#bid long and prosper

[trek-tracks]

100% offended that nobody bought Bones' glitter space suit in the "Bid Long and Prosper" auction and 110% offended that nobody bought it for me. Did nobody have $50k to drop on my upcoming birthday??

[changbunnies]

Aurora (18+)

♡ Pairing: Prince!Felix x Duke's Daughter!Reader

♡ Genre: light angst, fluff, arranged marriage au, royalty au, historical au, one sided pining to eventual mutual pining, slow burn-ish ??, eventual smut

♡ Word Count: 21.8k

♡ Summary: Y/N, a duke’s daughter in the southern territories of Miroh, is promised to crown prince Felix in the north in the hopes that the dueling territories will reach peace. Yet, despite how much she initially loathes the idea of being married and away from her family, she can’t help but fall in love with the prince she was promised to.

♡ Warnings: outdated traditions and views on women to suit the setting, felix is nothing but sweet but it takes the reader time to trust him, attempted cheating (not from reader or felix, you'll see), 1 mention of having children, kind of possesive felix? but not too much, i think that's it but lmk if i missed something!

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): felix calls reader "my love" (yes this needs a warning), so much kissing!! so many "i love you's!!" (a changbunnies smut staple), reader and felix are virgins, nipple play, oral (f + m receiving), handjob, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, creampie

♡ Notes: you can also read the story on my ao3 where it is divded into chapters here, and if you're interested you can also check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

You knew well the day would come where you would be married off to a family looking to expand their power. You knew that you would have to leave behind all things you found familiar and comfortable to live in your husband’s estate.

You knew that your responsibilities as a nobleman’s daughter would catch up with you sooner rather than later. And despite knowing all these things in your mind, your heart had not felt prepared for the reality of your fate in the slightest. 

Your night was spent in a grand ceremony of music and laughter as two families, one yours and the other your now husband’s, as well as commoners from all over the bustling town you would now call home, celebrated your new union. You were now Lee Y/N, wife to the northern king’s one and only son, Felix.

And while there was high likelihood that Felix would not sit on the throne for decades, the choice of who would become his wife was still something that had to be decided with the utmost care in the event that an unexpected tragedy befell his father. 

Though you were not a princess, you were the eldest daughter of a grand duke. You were raised in elegance and novelty that most would never have the privilege of living in. You were also graceful, well mannered, and adored by your father’s people in the south, which was something the king valued when seeking out the ideal partner for his only heir. And with your union to the prince now solidified, the country was ever closer to a more unified and prosperous existence. 

The ceremony itself consisted of fake smiles you had long practiced from a young age; a mask of joy and grace to hide your inner tumultuous feelings. When the celebrations had come to a close, and the time came to bid your farewells to your family as they made the long journey back home to the south, you did your best to hold back the tears and see them off with a smile.

You played the role you had been taught by your elders well, giving polite words of parting to the commoners who made it the ceremony and maintaining an elegant air around the royal family that you were now a part of. Felix let out a relieved sigh when the last of the guests departed, turning to you, his now wife, with a gentle smile afterwards.

“Shall we retire for the night as well?” he asks as he holds out his arm, clearly offering it to be linked with yours. You accept the offer easily, deciding that if anyone saw you reject your husband on such an offer it would reflect badly on your family’s manners. The last thing you needed were rumors to circulate about your parents ‘not raising you right.’ 

“I hope you’re not too ill at ease,” he says as you exit the ballroom together, “meeting your betrothed on the same day as your ceremony is quite a shock.” He’s certainly not wrong about that; it was easily the greatest shock of your life. In fact, you spent much of your month-long journey to the northern lands in denial, utterly convinced it must be a falsehood, or some manner of prolonged bad dream you would surely wake from. 

Only on your arrival in the morning, when you had finally seen the royal castle with your own eyes and met your suitor and his family face to face, did your reality smack you squarely in the face. The truth of things could no longer be rejected; you were going to be married this evening whether you wished it so or not. You were left with no choice but to conform in that very moment, to accept your fate for what it is. 

“Yes, it took me no small measure of adjustment, but I am grateful that you and your family have spared no effort in accomodating me.” You offered a kind word– after all, it was no lie that his family were much kinder people than you had expected them to be.

Once you reached the age of maturity, your family received countless marital requests from various suitors, many of whom were vile men beneath a mask of sincerity. You had watched your cousins marry into many such families, and found yourself dreading the day it would happen to you as well. 

While it was undoubtedly unfortunate that you were forced into a marriage, the fact that Felix and his family seemed to hold genuine kindness in their hearts made you quite lucky. However, your luck being better than most did not mean you were happy about any of this.

Sure, the fact that you weren’t wed to a boorish man who felt the need to treat you like an object was a good thing, but that didn’t change that the freedom of choice was stripped away from you. You should feel relief that Felix seems to be a sweet person, or some sort of joy that your new family is seemingly considerate and caring, but you don’t.

What you feel instead is.. Well, you aren’t quite sure what name to put to the feeling, though dread felt the closest. Yes, you felt a looming dread over knowing that this was your life now, and you were never, and will never, be given a choice for something different. 

“If there is anything at all I can do to help you in this transition, I ask that you do not hesitate to tell me.” Felix’s voice, while still much deeper than you had anticipated it to be, was soft and kind as he made the offer.

You could feel a hint of guilt for not appreciating such a thing as much you knew you should– he’s obviously trying his hardest to be kind to you, and despite that you’re just.. Unhappy. There was no other way to put it. 

“I will, thank you,” you reply in your perfectly rehearsed well-mannered tone. You may hate the situation you’re in, but you won’t take it out on him. After all, he likely didn’t have a choice in this matter either, and he’s been nothing but sweet and accommodating to you thus far. As much as the rebellious part of your brain wishes to kick and scream and throw a tantrum, you don’t want to do anything that would hurt or reflect badly on your new husband. 

“This is my– well, our, room,” He says as you approach two large, ornate doors, decorated with a wood carving of the royal family’s emblem standing proudly in the center: two soldiers mirroring each other with swords raised skyward, and a beautiful, intricately drawn phoenix beholden in the center. “We can enter if you wish, but I do not intend to force you to lie with me when you are not yet comfortable being next to me.” 

“Truly? Is such a thing alright?” You nearly exclaim, unable to disguise the surprise in your voice at his statement. Felix smiles in the same sweet manner he has all night as he answers, “Of course! I know it’s.. Customary for newlyweds to lie together right away, but I have no desire to force you into an uncomfortable situation. And well.. I do hope that we’ll share a bed in the future, but I am more than willing to wait until you are ready.” 

You felt truly taken aback as you stared at him. Sad to say, you half expected his tune to change once the two of you were alone. You'd heard many awful tales of men who are sweet and doting in the eye of the public, but change the moment they are behind closed doors, their true natures and selfish desires exposing themselves once there is no one they have to impress or keep up appearances for.

And also sad to say, it wouldn't have surprised you if the crown prince was one of those awful men; men in positions of power love to flaunt and make use of it, flashing their wealth and their status and forcing those beneath them into submission. You were lucky that in your father's lands in the south, you had enough status to prevent those men from harming you explicitly. 

But here you were, in a forgein land, married to a man who was second only to his father, the king. A man who held substantial power over you in every regard now that you were wed, but was giving you the freedom of choice.

And then there was the statement that followed– he wants to lie with you, would likely be pleased if you did so this very night, but is willing to wait until you want to of your own regard. It's possible he is simply a smooth talker, years of diplomatic lessons and high social status turning him into a charasmatic liar, an effortless charmer. 

Was it in his true character to treat women with such consideration, or were you an exception until he got you where he wanted you? Did he sincerely view you are more than an object to be had, or was he going to play the long game, waiting until the moment you lower your guard and become comfortable to strike?

Regardless of the answer, you feel truly thankful in the moment. You've had a whirlwind of emotions today, and not needing to immediately lie with your new husband takes an immense weight of your weary shoulders. You're happy to have the space to decompress alone in your own private space offered to you. 

“The maid’s have prepared a room for you further down the hall. Shall I take you?” he asks, the sweet smile having not at all faded. You hesitate a moment before you nod, not wishing to offend him should you appear too eager or if this part of a game he wishes to play, using your vulnerability as a pawn. “Yes, please.”

“Very well,” he replies as he leads you further past the room that you are supposed to share together. The walk down the hall is rather quick, ending just a few yards away from your starting point. “I hope you don’t mind, I wanted your room to be in proximity to mine in case you have need of me,” he clarifies as you approach the door to what will be your bedroom for the foreseeable future. 

“Truthfully, it’s more than I was expecting. I appreciate it,” you smile your first genuine one of the night, truly relieved to not have to share a bed with a relative stranger right away, and to have the space you need to process what your life will be like from this night onward. Felix unlinks your joined arms and opens the door for you to enter, his apparant kindness unfaltering. 

The moment you step inside your new room, you are in awe. Even for what is likely a small guest room, it’s still much larger than your bedroom back at your family’s modest estate. The furniture is well crafted and beautifully adorned in gentle blue and white shades. In the corner of the room, you see that your belongings from home have been neatly placed, with essentials on top and personal comforts at the bottom.

This surprised you most of all; not only was he kind enough to prepare a separate room for you, but he had all your belongings brought here ahead of time, as if he already knew this would be your answer. 

Behind you, Felix stands in the doorway, having not followed you into the room. He wore an expression of anxious anticipation, waiting to hear what you thought of where you’d be sleeping. He was as patient as he possibly could be, hoping silently that whatever opinion you held would be positive. He truly wanted you to feel safe and comfortable here, so that one day you could grow to have a genuine connection with him. 

When you turned back towards him, your soft smile made the anxiety welling within his breast wash away in an instant. “It’s to your liking?” he asks, and you respond with a nod. “It’s lovely, thank you.”

Truthfully, you felt another tinge of guilt for doubting his pure intentions just moments prior. The way relief instantly washed over his face was a clear indicator that he was truly trying his best to make you comfortable. 

“Ah, I’m relieved to hear that!” Felix holds his hand over his heart, as if it had just been racing in his chest; and to be fair, perhaps it was– he did seem genuinely considerate in all his actions, and he must’ve been nervous up to this point. “Before I go, should I call some maids to help you remove your gown? It looks rather intricate, so..”

Felix’s observation wasn’t wrong; getting your wedding gown on early this afternoon required the help of your mother, sister, and many others, and you didn’t feel you’d be able to remove everything on your own. 

So, you gave your approval to receive the maid’s help, and Felix nods, “I’ll alert them quickly so you can get your rest soon. Knights will also be posted in front of your room at all times starting now, and maids will come to your room routinely, so please notify them if anything is needed urgently.”

He was about to turn to leave but stops, hesitantly meeting your eyes one last time before he departs. “Uhm– good night, I’ll see you tomorrow.” His smile was bashful, and you found his subtle, soft change in demeanor oddly endearing.

While you were still very much uneasy about being in this place, and had your issues with being married, it’d be a lie to say that Felix’s earnest efforts to make you happy and comfortable weren’t helpful, and that maybe with him as your husband, you could be happy someday. 

You groan as you are wrestled from sleep by a quick succession of knocks on your door; not urgent in any way, but loud enough to rouse you out of the pleasant dream you were having. Groggily, you stand from your bed, rubbing your eyes as you step toward the door.

You open it slowly, and come to see Felix standing before you with a tray of various foods in hand. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I brought you breakfast. May I come in?” You nod and step to the side to allow him entry, letting your assigned guards close the door behind him.

“The maids said they couldn’t wake you, so I decided to give it a try at my first available moment,” he explains as he sets the tray down on your bed. “I’m still unsure of your preferences, so I got a little of everything. I hope there’s something here you enjoy.” 

It has been just a few weeks since you officially became a member of the royal family and Felix’s wife, but you still often found yourself being taken aback by just how thoughtful and earnest he was towards you.

He seemed to have even the little things in mind when trying to accommodate you, and you often found yourself unsure on how to react to such kindness. In the end, you settle for a simple thank you as you climb back to your spot in bed to eat under the comfort of the blanket. 

“When you’re finished, I would like to take you on a tour of the castle if you’re not opposed. I believe getting familiar with your surroundings will aid in your adjustment,” he says, watching you carefully for any change in expression. It is true that since your arrival, you’ve spent most of your time holed up in your room, not coming out unless there was need for it. 

And though you were perfectly content to continue to do so, you could understand how it would become a problem, not just for Felix but for yourself as well. You can’t spend the rest of your days hiding away in your guest room, and you won’t adjust to your new life any easier if you don’t at least try to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. 

Besides all that, Felix has been incredibly sweet and patient thus far. You owe it to him to try, at the very least. His face lights up when you give your agreement, an earnest delight painting his face. You weren’t sure why he was so eager to offer you comfort, or why he always seemed so happy when you returned his smiles, but that pleasant quality of his was undeniably helpful in easing the ache in your heart. 

"I still have some things to take care of with my father before we begin, so take your time finishing your breakfast and getting ready. I'll be back later," he continues to smile as he stands, seemingly excited about what the afternoon will hold for you (and he is excited! There is so much to show you, and he hopes you love everything the castle has to offer.)

Your maids enter the room shortly after Felix departs, ready to help you with whatever you may need, and to begin tidying up once you've finished eating. You're not sure how long Felix will be, so you follow his advice to take your time, leisurely eating your breakfast and making small talk with the maids as you do.

You were nervous to speak with them your first few days here, unsure of what sort of dynamic they had with the royal family, but you all warmed up to eachother rather quickly. They were kind, playful but still professional, and the ones around your age were especially excitable when it came to the prospect of gossip and dressing up. 

Even when you weren't interjecting into conversation, you enjoyed listening to them talk about romance, what they think of the working men in town, what dresses they plan to buy with their savings and what they'll do when they have a free night to spend out. You especially liked to listen to them talk about Felix.

Some of them had been here for years, and they knew much about him that you hadn't come to learn yet. It seemed that he'd always been sweet and kind, gentle and shy as a boy, but grew more confident with age and experience. Despite that, according to them, there were still many times where you could catch him becoming pink in the face, shyness blooming over it the way it had when he was still small. 

It made you curious– what did Felix look like when he was shy? You were sure he must be beautiful; you're not blind after all, you can clearly see that the man you married is handsome beyond what words could describe. Being against an arranged marriage is completely seperate from recognizing that the man you were promised to looks like he was sculpted straight from God's own hands.

But it takes more than beauty for you to have feelings for someone, and that's why you liked hearing the tales of his youth, moments that reflected that the Felix you met is the genuine him, no tricks and no falsehoods. And maybe one day, you would see him be shy, and seeing it would spark feelings in your gut that you hadn't felt since the time you were a child with your first crush. 

“Are you ready to begin the tour?” Felix smiles brightly as he holds out his arm for you the same way he had on the night of your marriage. You had just finished taming your hair and tying half of it behind you with a ribbon when he arrived back at your room, free of whatever his duties were and ready to dedicate the rest of his afternoon to you.

When you first stepped out, Felix’s timid stare didn’t go unnoticed by the maids, who insisted on helping you despite being told you were capable of getting ready on your own. 

You chose a simple, muted yellow gown with white trim accents to wear from the clothes you brought with you from home. It was one of your favorite dresses to wear casually as it was light, airy, and easy to walk in. You had no plans to do anything extravagant, but your assigned maids insisted on you wearing at least some jewelry, so you let them place a pearl necklace on you with dainty earrings to match. 

And so, the maids secretly beamed with delight at Felix’s reaction to your appearance (though it wasn’t their added accessories that caught his attention in the first place; it was simply you.) “I’m ready, thank you,” you say as you accept his invitation to link your arms together.

Felix shifts his gaze from you to the maids, giving them instructions to finish tidying your room while the two of you are out. They bow politely, getting straight to work on cleaning as you step out of your room, and you can hear their soft, delighted giggles even as you are led down the hall. 

The tour started about as you expected, with Felix leading you from room to room and stating simple facts such as 'this is where my older sister and her husband sleep’ or ‘this is the hall where your family will stay when they next visit’ and so on.

Typically, daughters move out of their family homes upon being wed, their entire purpose to give their husband’s family a successful lineage and ideal heir, but you suppose a special exception is made when you’re part of the royal family. You wonder how different your life would be if the expectation to leave your family behind wasn’t placed upon you from birth. 

He has a younger sister as well, one who has yet to be wed and who you met only briefly, but you wonder if she’ll be allowed to live in the castle as well when her time comes, if her husband’s family will have guest rooms just as yours will, and if she’ll have the luxury to stay in the place she’s familiar and comfortable for her entire life.

You know his sisters aren’t much different from you, really. Women often don’t have freedom of choice, and you especially doubt the princesses ever get a say in what comes next for them (even if the king and queen are caring people), but at least they still have their home, and their family right there with them. 

You were envious of that; you missed your home and your family so much. Would there ever be a day where you could see the place you grew up in again? How much older would your family be the next time you saw them?

Your younger sister, who was still small and naive– how different would she be? How much taller, how much more mature? It saddened you to think about, and you had to consciously make an effort to not think about it any further, and focus instead on the things Felix was showing to you. 

He skips past the dining hall and ballroom since you’ve already become well acquainted with them from the wedding ceremony, and instead brings you to the royal library as your next stop. It was an understatement to say it was gorgeous, but you could find no words to do it justice.

It was the largest library you’d ever seen, equipped with grand staircases and beautiful handcrafted spandrels carved into the arches. The bookshelves reached up the ceilings and covered every wall, apart from the back section where large ornate windows filtered in sunlight from the gardens outside (which Felix assured you that you’d be seeing soon.) 

“This is incredible, I’ve never seen such an impressive library!” you practically beam, unable to hide your excitement at the impressive collection of books. You’ve always been a fan of literature, spending countless hours losing yourself in fantasy worlds and star-crossed romances.

“I could spend all my days here and still not read everything,” you muse with a smile as you wind your way through various bookshelves, taking note of every title that peaks your interest. 

“With such an extensive collection, there’s bound to be something that suits your tastes,” he says with a smile of his own as he follows you through the winding path of bookcases, “feel free to grab anything you’d like! You are allowed to take from the library as you please.”

Oh, you intend on doing just that. You suppose you should start with just a few for now though; the library isn’t going anywhere after all, and neither are you. 

It takes some time, but you eventually decide on a handful books to bring back to your room first, mostly fantasy romance titles (because how can you resist the call of your favorite genre?) Felix, who had been watching fondly as you made your selections, quickly instructs a nearby maid to bring your selections back to your room before asking if you’re ready for the tour of the castle to resume. 

In much higher spirits than when you began, you happily link your arms with Felix again, eager to see what else the castle has to offer you. There’s not much more for you to see on the inside; you’re briefly shown the knight’s barracks and the maid’s quarters, as well as the informal living space his family prefers to relax together in when they have the time. (It’s still extremely elegant and beautiful for an “informal” space, but you digress– they’re royalty, after all.) 

He leads you to the gardens next, which until now you had only seen briefly from the windows, and wow, is it more stunning when actually in front of you than you ever would have believed. All the flowers and hedges are well maintained and vibrant in color, a cobblestone path laid before you and winding around the garden carefully, lattice fence work protecting the flowers in the back and maintaining the border. 

There’s ponds littered about, the cleanest and bluest you’d ever seen, the fish inside clearly visible even at a distance. In the center lies a beautiful marble fountain, with large, meticulously detailed sculptures of what you assume to be a goddess to adorn the surroundings.

It’s all utterly breathtaking, beyond anything you’d ever seen at home in the south. As you reach the end of the cobblestone path, there lies an iron wrought gazebo with matching seating and a table beneath, right in the center. 

Felix unlinks your arms and steps up first, holding his hand out to you to accept as you proceed carefully up the few steps up to the gazebo. He pulls a chair out for you, smiling when you accept the seat and then takes his own seat directly across from you. There’s still a chill in the air, as spring has only just begun to set in the north, but the sunlight that filters through the iron keeps you sufficiently warm.

“Would you like some tea? You must be tired after all the walking we’ve done,” Felix asks after he’s gotten more comfortable in his seat, the iron cold at first but warming up quickly due to his own body heat.

“That’d be lovely,” you answer sincerely, and he smiles again, looking around quickly for any nearby attendants he can call to assist the two of you. Within minutes you are provided with fresh tea, as well as a handful of biscuit style cookies, and you thank the maids for their quick work as warmly as you can.

“It’s been so long since I last walked the entirety of the castle grounds, I’d forgotten how tiring it is,” Felix sighs after he takes a sip of his tea, seemingly unphased by the high temperature of it. You on the other hand are snacking on the cookies you’d been provided as you wait for the tea to cool, having no desire to scorch your tongue and potentially embarrass yourself in front of your husband. 

“Yes, I can’t imagine doing it daily. The maids certainly have their work cut out for them,” you empathize, truly hoping they feel appreciated for all the work they’ve done for you thus far, and have done for what you imagine to be decades for some of them. You didn’t have much help on your family’s estate back home, as it was much less grand in comparison to the splendor of the castle you now live in. 

The moments that follow are serene; you listen to Felix talk about various things pertaining to the castle as you sip your tea, including stories of how he used to get lost as a child and always needed someone's help to get back to where he needed to be. You laughed once, when he told you about a time he got stuck in a utility closet and cried until he was discovered by a maid, who had to spend several minutes calming him down before carrying him back to his room. 

It was a cute story, and you couldn’t help but giggle from how he dramatically explained the darkness that encompassed him, and how terrified 7 year old Felix was at that moment. You were worried for a moment after that it’d seem like you were laughing at him and not with him, but the way he smiled at you after he heard your laugh told you he was perfectly happy with your reaction. 

It was the first time he heard you laugh since you arrived– genuinely laugh, and he liked it. It made him feel warm, and gave him hope that you were finally starting to feel comfortable around him. He’d never hurt you, and he hoped that as you grew closer to him, you could genuinely love him one day. That’s all he wants really; to love the person he’s married to, and be loved in return. 

He’s seen it happen before; his parents, whose marriage was decided long before he was born but was the truest form of love he’d ever seen, and with his older sister, who was against her marriage at first but came to be truly in love with the man she was promised to. He wanted that to– to love and be loved with all his heart, to have something special and all his own with the woman he was promised to. And he'd work hard, do everything he could to show you that he was someone worthy to give your heart to. 

You stayed in the gardens for some time, simply talking and enjoying the scenery until the sun began to shift behind the trees. The shade brought a deeper chill with it, a slight shiver crawling over your skin each time the wind blew. “Let’s go back inside, there’s still something I want to show you,” Felix suggests upon seeing the way your body tensed from the chill creeping over you. You easily accept the offer, letting him lead you out of the gardens and back to the castle.

Warmth immediately spreads through you when you’re back inside the castle’s walls, body releasing its cold tension as you let Felix guide you to where he wants to go next, your arm linked in his as is coming to be your norm.

You come to a now familiar hall– the one with your bedrooms, and Felix stops in front of the doors to his room, the one you will one day share in the future. “Your room..?” you ask, looking at him inquisitively. 

“I’m not asking you to move in yet, just to see it, if that’s okay with you,” he explains his intentions, ensuring that he means you no harm by inviting you into the private space. Felix has given you no reason to mistrust him at all, and while there is some slight hesitancy due to your own fears, you agree easier than you expected yourself to.

He’s trustworthy, you think; he’s a gentleman through and through, and he’s shown you more than once how considerate and respectful he is, so.. Why not? The royal knights guarding his room open the doors for you at Felix’s signal, and the two of you step inside together, letting the guards close the door behind you to offer you privacy (not that you necessarily need it at the moment.)

His room is similar to yours, with much of the same features, but much larger in scale and with items you imagine are specific to Felix’s own tastes. His furniture holds the same blue and white tones as yours, but with the additions of a lovely yellow, reminiscent of the sun shining in an almost clear sky. 

He has a fireplace, only slightly larger than the one in your room, and you can tell even from a distance that his attached bath is very grand in both appearance and size. The biggest difference from your own room however has to be the piano sitting in the corner of his room, large and spectacular in its handcrafted design.

You cautiously step closer to it, carefully running your hand over the sleekly painted black wood, fingertips tracing over the gold leaf accents. “This is beautiful,” you say, turning back to look at him when you’re done admiring the beauty of what you can only assume is his personal piano, “do you play?”

“I learned as a boy,” he answers with a beaming smile full of pride as he takes a seat in front of the keys, “I haven’t had much time to play recently, but it’s one of my favorite things to do. I always feel the happiest when I’m playing.”

He motions for you to take a seat on the nearby chaise, so you do, sitting comfortably against the soft cushion. “Would you like to hear a song?” he asks, a bit nervous but eager to show you what he can do after years of diligent practice.

“I’d love that,” you reply, his infectious joy causing you to smile as well. You watch as he turns his attention to the keys in front of him, his face changing as he closes his eyes, the smile you had become accustomed to seeing fading as he prepared to focus. 

The song starts soft and slow, and while you didn’t recognize the melody, you found it entrancing and indescribably beautiful and serene. You watched and listened in awe as he continued, his eyes still closed and body swaying along with the melody he was playing. His ability to play without looking at the keys or sheet music amazed you, and attested to the fact that this is indeed something he loves to do. 

You clapped when he finished the song, and his expression immediately returned to the vibrant smile he often held. “That was beautiful Felix! You’re really talented,” you praise him earnestly, truly moved by his talent.

“Oh, no, anyone who has played as long as I have can do that,” he insists despite the light blush crawling on his features from your compliment. 

“You’re being modest,” you say, hoping he recognizes that you truly mean it, and aren’t just saying so to be kind or polite. You’ve seen a fair amount of people play the piano in your time attending balls and banquets, but saw no one as talented and clearly passionate as Prince Felix.

Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to being so openly complimented, or the fact that he had never played in front of anyone but his family, but he found that the praise affected him in a way he couldn’t have anticipated. 

No, it was because it was you specifically complimenting him that made his face flush and heart beat just the tiniest bit faster. Was it strange to hope to hear you compliment him more in the future? Maybe one day you’d compliment his appearance; tell him he was handsome, or beautiful, or cute even. He’d be happy with any of them, as long as they were from you. 

He'll tell you too– how beautiful you are when you smile, your excitement over your books cute, your very presence endearing. He knows it's too soon to call his feelings love, because how do you fall in love with a stranger in only a few weeks time? But he's certain that one day, maybe not too far off from today, it will be love, and the warmth and joy he feels whenever you look at him will expand tenfold, beyond anything he's ever experienced before now. 

Since the first time you’d entered Felix’s room and he’d played the piano for you, it had become routine for you to spend most of your days there with him, listening to him calmly play melodies while you silently read your books. It was nice listening to him play while you were reading; it felt like it added a special ambience, and helped you get even further lost in the tales written on the page. 

Sometimes you’d even notice him watching you read from your peripheral, smiling to himself for just a moment before he turned his attention back to the keys. When his fingers grew tired, you’d start to read aloud, oftentimes at his own request. Felix explained that he liked listening to you read, and you imagined that the feeling was similar to how you felt listening to him play piano.

Relaxing, comfortable, serene; that’s how the two of you felt listening to the other. Honestly, you were embarrassed to do so at first; after all, the book you were reading at the time had to do with with a woman in a magical fantasy land falling in love with an elf, and you would’ve been extremely embarrassed if he laughed at the concept or shamed you for your taste in literature. 

However, you found that he listened to you intently, like the tale you were reading from the pages was of the utmost importance for him to hear. He’d ask follow up questions when you were further in the book than he last heard, often asking what happened next and if the characters had overcome whatever trial they had been facing yet.  

Felix remembered all the details of what you read to him– the setting, the character’s names, what their thoughts and feelings were at the point you’d read them to him. It impressed you, as well made you feel warm and a little fuzzy. It showed how much he genuinely cared, that he listened to you and cared about the things you care about, that he wanted to know what you like beyond a superficial level. 

Whenever night came however, you retreated back to your own room, promising you’d return the next day. Maybe it was silly to not officially move into the bedroom you were meant to share when you had begun to spend most of your days there, but you simply weren’t ready to yet. You’d grown to trust Felix quite a bit, but sleeping next to him still seemed a step too far out of your comfort zone. 

You also worried it’d send him the wrong message– you didn’t want him to think anything would come of you sharing a bed just yet. You just found his presence comforting, and that was all. You knew, since the very day you first came here, that he hoped the two of you would share his room when you were ready, but you didn’t want to unintentionally give him something he thought was more than it was supposed to be. 

It seemed so.. Intimate, much more than you had ever been with someone. You liked him, and you trusted him, that much was true– but enough to share a bed? It was nerve wracking to think about, and while you knew it would happen someday, there was no need to rush it along; especially not when he was giving you the freedom and space to tackle your marriage on your own terms. 

But on nights like tonight, when your heart was heavy and tears pricked the corner of your eyes, you wondered if you should’ve just moved in with Felix already. It was only a matter of time before the warm weather brought rain with it, and alongside the downpour came thunderstorms. You weren’t sure what time of night it was when the crash of thunder woke you from your sleep, but as the grogginess faded and the sound sat with you, your heart ached terribly. 

You didn’t hate thunderstorms– in fact, you didn’t mind them at all, usually finding them quite pleasant to watch and listen to. It was your sister that hated them, who’d crawl into your bed every time one struck, trembling hands rousing you from your deep slumber and clinging to you the moment you awoke and offered her a place next to you. And each time a thunderstorm rolled through, you couldn't help but think about her, sadness encroaching over you without any means to stop it. 

What was the weather like back home, you wondered? Had spring's rain been gentle to her so far or were the storms as prevalant there as they were here? Would your sister suffer through it alone now that you weren’t there to comfort her? Your parents were kind, but you weren’t entirely sure they’d allow her to crawl into bed with them, or to hold her close as she cried the way you always had. 

How much of the remainder of her childhood would you come to miss? In just a few years time, she’ll be a woman the same as you, married into a new family and away from the last of her comforts. You don’t hate where you are now, nor do you hate Felix or the family you now call your own, but you miss the people you grew up with, and your little sister most of all. 

You miss holding her hand, hugging her when she’s scared, wiping away her tears when she’s sad or frightened. You miss guiding her through the lessons you once took, helping her to understand and offering the help you didn’t have then due to being the oldest. You miss giggling together when sharing stories, how cute she looked when happily accepting and showcasing your hand-me-down dresses that were now hers. 

Before you knew it, tears rolled down your cheeks, the ache in your chest unable to be ignored or pushed aside any longer. It was as if all the sadness you’d been harboring surfaced all at once, and the moment one tear fell, another followed, and another, until you were openly sobbing, unable to control or stop it from happening. 

You thought again of Felix, who was just a short trip down the hall from you. Would it be alright to go see him? You promised you’d go to him if you needed something, and well.. You could use some comfort, if you were being honest with yourself.

If you lit some candles and tried to read to distract your mind, all you’d effectively do is blur the pages and stain them with your tears, unable to focus on the words in front of you as your mind swirled and processed all your emotions. Felix, while still relatively new to you and finding his place in your life, is your family now.

Who else can you approach with your melancholy if not him? He’s sweet– he’ll comfort you, he’ll listen to you, he’ll be patient and considerate. In the nearly 2 months since you’d first arrived, he’s always shown you just how gentle of a person he is. And he always seemed genuine when expressing his desire to share his life with you, and be someone you could trust and rely on. 

You take a few deep breaths to steady yourself, wiping the tears from your face as you rise from your bed. Your night guards seem surprised when the doors to your room open and you emerge from them, but ultimately they say nothing, letting you walk down the hall without interruption and closing your doors for you. 

Felix’s guards, who recognize you even in the dim light of the candles on the walls as his wife, acknowledge you with a brief, professional nod when you stop in front of the doors. You hesitate there for a moment, wondering if this is really okay or if you should abandon this idea and turn back to your room.

But his guards, who mistake your hesitance as you waiting for them to open the doors, do so as quietly as they can, motioning for you to go ahead and step inside the room. Well, there’s no going back now that they’ve opened the doors for you, so you quietly step inside, thanking them softly and letting them pull the large doors shut behind you.

The room is dark, the light that would normally pour in from the moon being obscured by the dark rain clouds that hang in the sky. His candles are all responsibly blown out, but your eyes are adjusted to the darkness enough to find your way to his bed regardless. 

You swallow, hand trembling as you reach out to him, shaking him gently and mirroring the actions your sister used to take when she woke you up at night. He groans sleepily, voice deep and gravely as he stirs awake, eyes slowly drawing open, wearily looking for the source of what woke him. Felix sees you standing above him, but it takes his sleep-addled brain a moment to process the sight, half wondering if his weary eyes are playing a trick on him. 

But no, it really is you, looking at him with sad eyes and a quivering bottom lip, and he can feel the tremble in your hand that rests on his shoulder now that he’s fully conscious. He sits up quickly, concern painting his face as he gives you his undivided attention.

“Y/N, what’s the matter? Has something happened?” Your voice wavers as you try to tell him, I’m sad, I’m lonely, I miss everyone from home, but it doesn’t fully come out, the words dying in your throat as tears well in your eyes again. 

He opens his arms to you and you crumble into them, burying your head in his chest as you allow yourself to cry. He sympathetically whispers your name, careful as he wraps his arms around you in a hug, conscious of where he allows his hands to rest.

He doesn’t know what's wrong, what has brought you to such tears, but he’s glad you came to him with them. It would’ve saddened Felix to later learn that you suffered in your room alone when he would’ve gladly done whatever he could for you. 

And then he hears it– the crack of thunder, lightning illuminating the room for a brief moment before you’re sheathed again in darkness. Was that the problem? Were you frightened? You weren’t of course, but he didn’t know that, and he comforted you through your sobbing as if you were.

“It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m here with you,” he told you, his voice a deep whisper, holding you just a bit tighter whenever lightning struck, fully believing the problem was that you were afraid. Despite the misconception, you were comforted all the same. This was exactly what you were hoping for, what you needed to hear.

The storm eventually recedes, as does your sobbing, the room becoming ever so slightly more illuminated as the rain clouds pass onward. He can see your face more clearly now when you look at him again, can see how wet and shiny your cheeks have become from fallen tears, but you also appear calmer, your lip trembling much less and breaths more stable. 

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks softly, carefully, and it is now you become hyper aware of the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, of your head resting against his chest, of the sound of his heartbeat in your ears.

You relax your fingers, which you realize were clutching his sleep shirt quite hard, the fabric having become harshly wrinkled from your grasp. He loosens his arms to let you lift yourself away from him, watching silently as you wipe your face clean. 

You hesitate to meet his gaze– not because you feel embarrassed over your outpouring of your emotions, but conscious of how close you just were, and how natural it felt to have his arms around you. Maybe the fact that it felt so right is a testament of how close you’ve grown in the time you've been here, and how comfortable he makes you feel.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” you mutter quietly now that you’ve found your voice again; you know his duties leave him tired, so there’s a tinge of guilt you feel for interrupting his rest. “Don’t say that, I’m glad you woke me,” he assures you, and he’d reach out and hug you tight again if he knew he could.

You believe him– you know how earnest and sincere Felix is, and that he cares about you; maybe not in the way a husband cares about his wife, but cares nonetheless. You should be honest too, clarify why you were really crying so he doesn’t grow to think you’re genuinely afraid of thunderstorms. 

“I, uh– I’m not afraid of storms, that’s not why I was crying. Well, it was, but not because I was frightened,” you explain, and Felix looks a bit puzzled, but nods anyways, listening carefully to what you tell him. You tell him everything– how your sister was afraid of them, how you spent many dark nights easing her fears, and how your tears were born from how much you miss her, and your family as a whole. 

His heart breaks for you, truly, it does. He assumed you missed your family, he took notice of how close you were to them on the night of your ceremony, but there was no way he could’ve known how deep your pain was. And really, he can’t imagine what it’s like to be in your situation.

What if it was him who had to separate from his parents and siblings to live somewhere new? Would he be able to handle it with as much acceptance and grace as you have? You never complained about anything, even when you were saddened.

You treated everyone around you kindly, never spoke ill of anyone or about your circumstances, and that’s when he realizes you have much more inner strength than he’d known. There’s a small prick of guilt he feels for taking you away from your family, but even if it wasn’t him that you married, it still would’ve happened to you someday.

He wishes he knew what he could say or do to comfort you the best; there was nothing that could completely take the ache away, of that he was sure, but if he could make it better somehow then he’d do whatever he could. You can see the gears turning in his brain, can see him struggle with finding the words to say, unsure if what he’d done for you thus far was good enough. 

And there’s a new dilemma brewing in your mind– what do you do now that you’re calm? Do you just.. leave? Go back to your solitude and spend the rest of the night alone? If you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t entirely want to go back to your room.

Maybe it was time for you to finally move in with Felix, and share the room, share the bed, as you were meant to. It’s a strange feeling you don’t entirely recognize and know what to do with; you just know that you want to stay here, with him, and feel his arms around you again. 

Maybe it’s simply because he’s all you have here; which isn’t entirely true, but it is how you feel. Do you have a family here? Yes, the royal family is your family now too. Do you have friends here? Yes, you’ve grown quite close to your maids and other staff you interact with.

But are you comfortable enough to be vulnerable in front of them, or to share your feelings of loneliness and homesickness? No, and in that regard, Felix is all you have. 

Felix is your companion in this lonely place, the person who makes your days brighter and bearable through the melancholy, the one who ebbs away your sadness and replaces it with warmth. And you spend all your days with him, next to him, talking to him, sharing everything, including silence.

Would it be so bad to allow yourself this comfort? To finally take a step forward and move into the room you were meant to share? There’s a part of you that’s scared to take that step, afraid to confront what your desire to be close to him means, unsure how to unravel and make sense of the complexities of your thoughts.

But there is an undeniable truth– Felix is your husband, and that would likely never change. So even if you don’t love him, wasn’t it okay to be close to him regardless? He makes you smile, he makes you laugh with his stories and jokes, he plays the piano for you and listens to you so intently, he makes you feel warm and fuzzy; and he told you he wants you to be here.

Maybe he doesn’t love you yet, but he’s expressed that he wants to, that he hopes the two of you will look at each other fondly and live happily. And maybe you don’t love him yet, but that doesn’t mean that the day you do is far off.

You look at him, take in the compassion and concern he holds for you, allow the feeling of warmth to seep into your pores; you may not be in love with him, but you do still have love for him. Isn’t that enough? 

“Felix, if it’s alright.. Can I–” you pause a moment, shy apprehension prickling your skin, but you collect yourself enough to continue, “I want to stay. Here, with you.” You can see even in the low light how his eyes widen, though it’s hard to decipher whether or not his surprise is pleasant, but you hope it is given how he’s expressed his hopes for the future.

“A-Are you sure?” he asks, not at all against the idea, just surprised by your admission. “I don’t want to be alone again, at least not tonight,” you explain, hoping he understands, “And I don’t have to move in completely if you’re not ready for me to, but.. I spend all my days here with you anyways, so.. I want to, if that’s okay.”

Felix’s heart is racing, his face growing pinker by the second, and he feels lucky you’re making this confession in the darkness, where you can’t easily tell how obvious his blush is. “Of course you can stay,” he says, shifting more to the side to allow you the space you need to get comfortable under his thick blanket.

He’s stiff when he first lies down next to you, unsure of whether or not it was okay to touch you, whether or not you’d even like it if something as simple as his arm being pressed against yours, if it was alright with you. He already knew he was undeniably attracted to you, but he’d never do something if you were uncomfortable, or touch you without explicit permission, even if the touch was meant to be comforting as opposed to romantic.

But you reach out to him first, softly ask him to hug you again, and he’s more than happy to oblige your request. You can hear the rapid beat of his heart as you move in close, and you wonder if he’s nervous; you are too, to be fair.

You’ve never lied this close to a man before, or let one hold you in his arms the way you let Felix, never shared a bed with anyone but family. But you want this, and despite the nerves that come with doing something so new to you, you’re happy, comfortable. 

Felix’s heart begins to slow the longer you lie together, as does yours, and the exhaustion that comes with crying, as well as being woken in the middle of the night, takes hold over you. You fall asleep first, though Felix is not far behind you, the soft sound of your even breaths akin to a lullaby in his fatigued state.

You’re warm, comfortable, safe; you may not have all the things that were once familiar to you, but you have Felix, a person who radiates kindness and compassion, a person who despite everything, makes you happy. 

There’s part of you that wonders if sharing a room with Felix was a decision made too hastily; not because he did anything wrong, but because it came with unforeseen challenges. What was the challenge? Dressing, undressing, bathing to name a few.

He was always respectful, kept his back turned to you whilst you were changing or kept himself away from the attached bath if you were in it. And you likewise never peeked towards him when the opposite occurred. 

You certainly didn’t regret your decision– after all, you spent all your days with Felix, so it only made sense to spend your nights with him too now that you felt comfortable enough. But there was a certain timidness that came with undressing in the presence of a man, even if said man wasn’t looking and had his gaze fixed to the wall until you were finished. You wondered though, wouldn’t there come a day where he was allowed to look? 

The thought of Felix someday looking at your exposed, bare skin made an unfamiliar feeling well in your gut– one that was entirely foreign to you, but not at all unpleasant. Butterflies, perhaps? You’d read about the sensation in your novels, the characters often expressing how seeing the one they love made their stomach react in ways strange and new.

And as explained in the countless romances you read, your heart would race when he held your gaze after you emerged from the bath, your face would flush whenever his touch lingered for longer than what you would consider typical of a friendly relationship. 

It was no exaggeration to say that sharing a room with Felix brought you even closer than before. Once you got past your initial shyness, the weeks that followed were some of the most pleasant you’d had.

You settled into a nice routine, sharing breakfast before he had to depart to attend to his royal duties. You spent the rest of your morning and early afternoon perusing the library shelves for your next read or sitting out in the gardens, sometimes reading in the warm light of the sun, sometimes simply enjoying the scenery around you. 

You’d reunite at dinner time, sometimes sharing that time with family in the dining hall and other times eating in the privacy and comfort of your room. Felix would often insist that you bathe first, ever a gentleman to you, but on days he seemed particularly worn out and exhausted you would do your best to convince him he needed one more than you, encouraged him to relax and let the hot water soothe away any aches. 

No matter the order of the bath, your nights would end the same; you’d spend the last few hours of your day listening to Felix play the piano as you read, oftentimes reading your literature aloud once he grew tired and joined you where you sat, whether that be the chaise facing the piano, the sofa across from the fireplace, or simply the bed.

On the nights he was extra tired, his eyes would grow heavy and close as you read to him, and when you gently told him he was falling asleep, he’d mumble that he was still listening, urging you to continue.

It was endearing, and there was a certain joy you felt in lulling him to sleep with your softly spoken words, knowing that even as the comfort seeped into his bones and urged him to rest, all he wanted was to listen to you. You liked to think it even helped him, hoping that you brought him as much solace as he brought you, hoping that you alleviated and dispelled any troubles simply by being there for him the way he was for you. 

Tonight was another such day; the changing of the season brought with it longer, warmer days, and often the sun wouldn’t begin to sink until you were already well into your nightly routine. The moon had just begun to emerge when Felix settled down on the sofa next to you, making sure he lit the candles before he sat as darkness began to settle in.

It was a bit of a challenge at times to read in the dim, wavering light of the candles, but you’d grown used to it in your time as a novel enjoyer, and you welcomed the cozy atmosphere the candlelight brought. He listened to you intently at first, but the more you spoke the words from the pages, with your steady, soft and even pace, the more sleep called to him, and it became a struggle for his eyes to remain open.

His head rested against the back of the sofa, the cushion acting as a pillow for his weary body. Your softly spoken words, along with the low light the candles brought to the room, were enough to call him to sleep much faster than he’d otherwise expect. You pause when you notice his eyes have completely closed, not sure if he’s still listening with his eyes shut, or is indeed asleep as you suspect.

But when he makes no reaction to your pause, you are certain sleep has taken him, and you smile as you quietly close your book. You set it down on the nearby table, wondering if you should try and wake him, request him to move to the bed, or if it’d be better to bring over a blanket and let him be. 

You look at him, quietly taking in the sight of his sleeping form. Felix is beautiful, even whilst sleeping, and you wonder if he knows that. His eyelashes are long, his freckles a unique and expansive constellation, his parted lips and honeyed skin almost entracing to look at, begging to be admired by all who look.

And admire him you did, in quiet moments like this. Moments where everything was serene, in the space belonging only to the two of you, a space where you are the only ones who exist. 

Carefully, you reach out to him, gently tapping on his shoulder until he stirs. “Felix,” you call softly, and he barely opens his eyes, letting out a small, groggy ‘hmm?’ in response.

“You fell asleep,” you tell him quietly, voice almost a whisper, “let’s go to bed.” He hums his agreement, which due to his deep, sleepy voice sounds more like a grumble. You rise from the sofa first, offering a hand for stability if he needs it. 

He falls to the bed with a grunt, barely managing to pull the blankets up over his shoulders, and you can’t help but giggle at the display. You work your way around the room before you join him, blowing out the candles until the room’s only illumination comes from the moonlight peaking through the window curtains.

You’re not quite as tired as Felix, but you settle into bed regardless, knowing that once you’re under the blankets and comfortably next to him, sleep won’t be all that far behind. Felix has been working extra hard lately, preparing for an upcoming ball to celebrate the summer solstice.

Apparently they hold it annually, as well as one for the winter solstice, but you had arrived at winter’s end, after that celebration had already concluded. It keeps the spirits of the commoners high, gives them an event to look forward to, as well as a chance to mingle with those from other, father towns who come in to join the celebration of the season. 

That’s not its only purpose however; it also gives the royal family a chance to meet with other officials and people of high standing beyond that of just letters, and ensure that they continue to have a prosperous, mutually beneficial relationship. Dukes, barons, soldiers who have returned from war-torn fields– it’s important for the king, and by extension Felix, to know where they stand with all of them. 

Of course, you were no stranger to lessons in diplomacy, but you’re sure there is much more Felix has to keep in mind than simply being diplomatic. There’s a lot that goes into the politics of the kingdom, and you can’t imagine the weight that falls on his shoulders, knowing that one day he’ll inherit the responsibility of deciding the future of everyone within his territory.

It’s also possible that someday, your knowledge from growing up in the south will be a vital asset to him, and that he’ll seek your input on how to govern the farthest reaches of the kingdom. You sigh a little, moving in closer to Felix.

It’s best not to stress yourself out with thoughts about governing the kingdom, or about the upcoming ball; it’ll be your first ball as a married couple in the public eye, and there’s a separate set of nerves that come along with that. You wonder how much like a couple you should act; should you stay glued to his side, act lovey-dovey for the duration of the night, or would that be unseemly for royalty to do? 

It’s possible there’s no need for you to appear in love– after all, it’s no secret that arranged marriages can be loveless. But still, you think it’d be beneficial for the people to see you genuinely care for Felix– it could set a positive example, and show that the north and south have no need to fight against each other.

You think if you just act natural, and don’t put too much thought and effort into “proving” you love Felix, then the people will see your honest feelings come through.  And besides, you told yourself you wouldn't worry about such things now that you were in bed, so your only priority should be going to sleep. 

Felix’s arm rests around your waist, which is normal for you now. After the first night, when he hugged you until you fell asleep, it felt nice to wake up with his arm still there, holding you close. He apologized the next morning when you woke up, worried that he may have made you uncomfortable, though he didn’t have control of where his arm lied once he’d fallen deeply into sleep.

You assured him though that it was perfectly fine– in fact, it was comfortable, and you enjoyed the closeness after feeling so lonely. It became a natural part of how you slept, his arm always around you, sometimes loosely, and other times strongly keeping you close.

Now was one such time you were held loosely, his arm limp with sleep but you didn’t mind; it gives you the ability to easily adjust your position turning so that his hand was against your back and your head could rest close to his chest. Your movement rouses him slightly, and he instinctively holds you tighter.

You whisper an apology for unintentionally waking him with your movement, not entirely sure that he’s even alert enough to truly hear you, but you say it regardless. You guess he does hear you, because he mumbles a response, though it’s not entirely decipherable. “..ove you.”

“Hmm?” you hum in question, glancing up to look at him, but it’s no use– he’s back to sleep within seconds, as if he was never awoken at all.

Oh well, it likely wasn’t anything important, probably just dreamy ramblings of a tired mind, or an acceptance of your apology. Maybe tomorrow you can ask him if he dreamt anything pleasant, or if you appeared to him in your dreams the same way he had begun to in yours. 

You were well into the solstice ball, sighing as you stood off to the side of all the dancing, feeling exhausted from everything you were experiencing. You thought your wedding was tiring, but this was somehow even worse; when you got married to Felix, only locals to the town were welcome inside the castle to witness it and celebrate, otherwise chaos could ensue.

But with the solstice ball, any and everyone was welcome, and with that came a myriad of people for you to meet and communicate with. Most who attended were eager to see the prince’s wife, curious about what sort of woman he’d married, and you couldn’t help but be anxious about what opinion they’d hold of you after seeing you in the flesh.

Honestly, you wanted to make a good impression; you’d be saddened if you were unliked by those who would one day be your people alongside Felix. Your father was someone who governed with compassion, and the royal family were much the same, and you hoped they could see you held the same values. 

Still, it was tiring to portray your best self for hours without end, and you took the opportunity for a break at the first moment you could. You stayed at Felix’s side for the first hour of the evening before going your separate ways, him mingling with various men of high status while you traveled the ballroom floor, introducing yourself to as many people as you could.

There were still many people for you to meet and talk with, but hopefully they’d understand your need to take a moment for yourself. You sipped on some water, your throat thankful for the soothing liquid, having become quite parched from all the talking you’d done.

You also looked yourself over briefly in one of the ballroom’s mirrors, making sure everything about your appearance was still neatly in place. You had went out to town with Felix to get a new dress, and it arrived mere days before the ball, just in time. 

You expressed that you were worried about your appearance, the dresses you’d brought from home being expensive and beautiful, sure, but still falling short when compared to the lavish gowns his sisters and mother wore.

Felix, who didn’t entirely realize he was speaking his thoughts aloud, said you’d look beautiful in anything, and both of your faces went red, before he coughed awkwardly and quickly changed the subject, saying that they could simply buy you a new dress if you’d needed it. 

You did also consider borrowing a gown from his older sister, but he insisted that was nonsense when they were more than capable of buying something specifically for you, and so you’d agreed to go out to town with him, going to a seamstress well-respected and trusted by the royal family.

It was your first outing since your arrival, not because anything necessarily stopped you from leaving if you wanted to, but simply because it required the coordination and cooperation of the royal guard accompanying you, and really, you had no need to leave until then. 

After the seamstress’ daughter took your measurements, and you answered various questions pertaining to color and style, as well as looking over and feeling various samples of fabric, you were free to leave, with the promise that once your dress was ready, her daughter would bring it to the castle, along with an alteration kit if any adjustments were needed. Before returning to the castle, Felix brought you to a jeweler, and you also passed a bookstore, where you couldn’t help but notice your favorite novel was on display.

Felix asked about it when you noticed your subtle pause to look, asked if you wanted to go inside and look around, or buy the copy of your favorite novel that was on display, but you told him there was no need. After all, you still had your very well-loved copy at home (which, while beginning to fall apart, was still perfectly readable and sentimental to you), and countless books in the library you still had interest in before feeling the need to purchase any new ones. 

All that to say, your night on the town was well spent, and you were thankful how well your gown and jewelry came together, and you truly felt good about your appearance tonight. Your maids also dutifully perfected your hair and makeup, and even hours into the night, you found no imperfection with either.

Felix also went red in the face when he first saw your completed look, much to the delight of your maids, who had to suppress their gleeful giggles; it seemed they loved when Felix looked at you with awe. You allow an attending maid to take your water from your hands when you are finished with it, thanking them with sincere politeness.

You give yourself another moment to collect yourself before returning to the main ballroom floor, careful not to bump into those dancing as you make your way through the crowd of people. You hoped to locate Felix, and see whether or not he’s still caught up in whatever political talk he was having when you last brushed past him. 

Instead, you hear a familiar voice questioningly call your name, and you pause, stopping to look around for the source. It couldn’t be.. could it? “Christopher!” you gasp, met with the sight of a boy, now man, you hadn't seen in nearly 3 years, “What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t you know? My station is just a few towns over,” he explains with a smile. Honestly, you were completely shocked. Your fathers were close friends, and though Chris was a few years older than you, you’d spent a lot of time together due to the close relationship of your fathers, both personal and professional. 

While your father is a duke, Chris’ was a very well-respected knight, who earned the title of baron due to his unwavering loyalty and dedication to serving your father, having sworn his fealty to him many years ago, before you were even born. Chris had similar ambitions as his father, and dedicated himself to training from a young age, always expressing that one day he’d serve the royal family. Coincidentally, he was also your first, and only, childhood crush. 

And truly, you didn’t know that he lived in a relatively short proximity to the town you now called home. Upon meeting the requirements to join the royal guard, he was sent north to receive further orders, and you’d lost contact with him not long afterwards, with the only news you’d learned being that he married a year after moving from the town you both grew up in– an arranged marriage, same as you. 

His wife, as far as you were aware, was a local girl whose family offered a significant dowry to be married to such a well-respected and honorable family. You wondered more than once if he was happy, and if your father ever considered Chris as a potential husband to you, but in recent times you stopped lingering on such thoughts completely. Your situation was set in stone, and you didn’t bother entertaining thoughts on what-if’s and could-be’s now that you too were married. 

“I didn’t! But it’s nice to see you again, I didn’t expect to see a familiar face,” you tell him sincerely; disregarding the childhood feelings you once held for him, it truly is nice to see a friend from home again.

“I was surprised when I heard you were the one Prince Felix married, and so I had to take this chance to see you again, and see the truth of it for myself.” You giggle a little, imagine what Chris must’ve looked like when he learned his childhood friend had married someone so important. 

“I was surprised too, believe me. I never anticipated marrying into the royal family,” you say, smiling as you speak. Though there were hardships that came with being relocated and away from family, now that you were growing accustomed to your life here, you actually found it pleasant. And you really enjoyed Felix’s presence; while you were initially upset about your marriage, you had truly begun to view it as a good thing in the recent weeks. 

“Did your wife come too? It’d be lovely to meet her,” you ask as a follow up, hoping she was somewhere nearby. “Mm, she’s here somewhere,” he replies, much more dismissive about the topic than you’d expect him to be.

It makes you want to ask if his relationship with her is bad, but perhaps that’s not appropriate to ask given the circumstances. “Would you like to dance?” he asks, quickly shifting focus, and you hesitate, a slight frown forming on your face. 

Normally, you wouldn’t be opposed to sharing a dance with a friend, but the circumstances surrounding your lives have changed substantially since you were last in contact. You’re both married, and even if it meant nothing beyond friendship for either of you, there was an image that needed to be upheld at all times, especially in the eyes of the public.

And you couldn’t help but think about what his wife, or Felix, would think if they saw you dancing with each other. Felix knew Chris by name alone from times you talked about home, but there was no way for him to know what he looked like. And in turn, you don’t know if Chris’ wife knows who you even are, if you’d be crossing a boundary in your respective relationships without even knowing it.

Further still, the thought of Felix seeing you in the arms of another and being upset, or even jealous, is enough to deter you from making that decision. You’re trying to form something real with Felix despite the circumstances that brought you together, and you won’t do anything to hinder that.

You want him to know that you respect your marriage, and that you won’t put his feelings in jeopardy by entertaining the advances of other men. Not that you think Chris means anything by his request, but still– better to be safe about these things than sorry. 

It’s strange though; you already knew you like Felix quite a lot, and care about his feelings, but there’s something beyond that, that makes you want to abide by the sanctity of your marriage. Technically speaking, you only have to be a devoted wife in public. It’s no secret that those in arranged marriages have concubines and secret affairs. If you truly wanted to, you could do the same, but you have no wish to do so. 

Is it loyalty? Love? All you really understand is that you never want to do anything to break Felix’s heart. You also don’t know if he even has enough romantic interest in you to be jealous in the first place, but either way, that’s not an emotion you want to cause him to feel. Some may be happy to see their betrothed jealous, but you’re not that kind of woman; instead, you’d feel rather guilty and apologetic. 

You glance across the crowd, spotting Felix still mingling with his father and other men of high status, completely unaware of the situation you’ve found yourself in. Hopefully, you can return to his side soon, once you're done catching up with Chris. “I’m afraid I can’t,” you finally say, hoping he understands your need to politely turn him down.

“What a shame,” he sighs a bit, his hand reaching out to you and settling on your arm, near your shoulder, “You look beautiful tonight. I would’ve loved to share a dance with you, as adults.” 

“O-Oh, thank you,” you mutter, taken aback by the words that left him. The Chris you knew was never so forward, nor did he ever openly compliment you. If you’re being honest, you’re not entirely sure how to respond; this was a situation your younger self would have dreamed of, but now you just feel.. odd.

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful, even when we were kids. I never imagined this is where life would take us, but.. If it’s your public image that worries you, maybe I could seek you out later, and we could have some alone time?” he continues seamlessly, as if this is a sentence he’s practiced in his head over and over again. 

Again, this is something your younger self would’ve been ecstatic about, even prayed for, but now you just feel.. uncomfortable. You don’t feel flattered by his compliment, nor do you like the implication of his statement, and you recoil away from the hand that lingers uncomfortably on your arm.

“We can't do that,” you say firmly, doing your utmost to make it clear you have no desire to partake in a scandalous relationship with him. You liked him once, but you were a kid then, and what you feel now for Felix is much more grounded in reality than the puppy love you had for Chris. 

“Why not?” he asks, looking at you with eyes that would’ve once made you melt. And there is genuine hurt there, which you do feel sorry about, but you simply don’t return the sentiment he seems to have. “We're both married. Shouldn't you be loyal to your wife?” you counter; even if your marriage to Felix isn’t born of “real” love, you have no interest in infidelity, nor do you want to be the reason Chris is unfaithful in his marriage.

“I don't love her, I never have. And though I moved of my own volition, I always wondered what would’ve happened if I stayed behind, and expressed my desires to make you mine. But what of you? Do you love your husband?” His words, his question, make you swallow, unsure how best to respond. You liked him once, that much is true, but you like Felix more. What you have with him.. You value it, deeply. 

It’s easy for a 14 year old to say they’re in love with their crush when they’ve never experienced what real, adult love feels like. There are times, even now, when you’re unsure of what the beating of your heart truly means, but there is one thing that you know for certain– you love Felix, much, much more sincerely than you ever loved Christopher. The difference between loving him, and being in love with him, make little difference in this case. 

Though, the more you’ve thought about it, the more you’ve come to think that maybe you are really, actually in love with him. You wouldn’t desire him if you didn’t, wouldn’t be up at night wondering what it would feel like to kiss him, or what kind of father he’d be to the children you’d one day have. You wouldn’t feel a void in your chest at the thought of no longer being by his side, even deeper than the one you’d felt upon moving away from home. 

And if there is anything your time reading romance novels has taught you, it’s that love is more than temporary butterflies and racing of the heart. Love is more than excitement, than desire, than the heat of his touch on your body; love, real love, is the comfort you feel in his presence. The safety, the hours spent together talking or relaxing, even in the comfortable silence you share during a meal– that is love.  

When you can’t imagine your life without him in it, when even the mundane sounds fun as long as it’s with him, when you still feel warm and fuzzy in his presence even after the butterflies have passed, that is love. Now that you’ve come to know what life is like when Felix is next to you, holding you, sleeping with you, sharing his voice and his talents with you, you never want to know what the absence of him would feel like.

All of that is to say, you think you’ve had your answer all along; you don’t just love Felix. You’re in love with Felix. 

“If I must tell you.. I do. I love Felix, truly. He’s a wonderful man,” you answer honestly, and Chris holds a deep frown. It must feel unfair– that’s how you felt about your circumstances at first. There’s no way for you to know how long he had feelings for you, but you were able to move on, while he clearly hadn’t. And truthfully, you feel sorry for him; none of this is his fault, but still.. You can’t change how you feel. 

“Surely you don’t mean that,” Chris says, a bit desperate, and again, your heart twists. You do mean it, unfortunately for him. And you have no intention of letting him think he has a chance to change your mind, when quite frankly, he doesn’t. Unbeknownst to you, Felix would glance your way whenever he was able to, always wanting to make sure you were handling yourself well.

It was your first solstice ball after all, and he imagined it could be overwhelming and tiring for you to mingle with so many people you had never met before. He just wanted to keep an eye on you, make sure you weren’t getting burnt out from the countless interactions with others. And that’s when he sees it– a man he doesn’t know, his hand lingering on your arm, and you, looking up at him with a troubled expression on your face. 

The look of discomfort you hold as the man continues to speak, hand still on you despite how you recoil.. He can’t help but clench his fists, a foreign sort of distaste bubbling within his veins. He can see your expression change as you speak– still uncomfortable, but not quite distressed. Sad, maybe? Perhaps this guy was being forward with you, and you were trying your best to look sympathetic as you gently turn him down. 

“If you’ll excuse me, there’s something I must attend to,” Felix says politely as he bows towards his father and his peers, not lingering to answer questions, though he really should if he doesn’t want to appear rude. He approaches you with haste, though still careful to not appear in too much of a hurry or frantic– he doesn’t want those around him to suspect something is amiss.

The man’s hand is thankfully no longer on you, he realizes as he comes closer– it’d be terribly unbecoming of someone of his status to cause a scene. “There you are, my love! I was looking everywhere for you,” Felix says with a smile as he approaches you, wrapping you in his arms as if the other man doesn’t exist at all.

Your face reddens, heart picking up; my love, he called you my love! You’re aware this is likely only happening because he spotted you and was able to perceive how you felt, but still, your heart reacts to the words nonetheless. 

“Who’s this?” Felix asks as he turns his attention to the man in front of you, his hand resting on your waist in a motion that you’d easily be able to interpret as defensive, possessive.

“O-Oh, uhm– this is Christopher. Do you remember what I told you, about how we grew up together due to our fathers being good friends? We ran into each other, and were just catching up,” you explain, and Chris, not wanting to make a fool of himself, easily goes along with your words. 

“Oh, how lovely. It's a pleasure to meet an old friend of yours,” Felix smiles jovially, extending a hand out to Chris. He accepts it, and the two politely shake hands, with Chris feeling a degree of shame and embarrassment. This definitely isn’t his finest hour; but maybe now that you’ve firmly rejected him, he can try to find happiness in his own life, love in his own marriage. 

“My deepest apologies for interrupting your reunion, but I thought it was time my wife and I shared a dance,” he says to Chris before looking back at you with a smile, and it’s so utterly charming that you practically feel your legs turn to jelly, “Shall we, my love?”

God, your face must look so red right now. But after the few seconds it takes to finish processing, you gladly accept, offering a timid smile. Felix bows politely to Chris before he leads you away by the waist, your heart still racing as you follow his lead. Away from the crowd of people, he stops and turns to you, the natural charisma he held melting away the moment your eyes meet.

“Are you alright? I’m– I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all, I just..” You smile softly, and shake your head; I liked it, I want to hear you call me ‘my love’ again, I want you to keep wrapping your arms around me and holding me by the waist you want to say, but don't. Instead you carefully lean up, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you Felix.” 

His face grows red, his hand reaching up to his face, fingertips lingering over the spot you kissed him. He smiles cutely, shy and sweet, heart pounding even from something so small. He’s infatuated with you, after all, and any affection from you is enough to make his body react.

“Why don't we really go have that dance?” you ask with a smile, holding your hand out for him to take. You shared a dance when you first married of course, as is customary, but this one would be different; as opposed to a dance between newlyweds with no love between them, now you could say you were dancing with the only man you’d ever sincerely loved.

“Of course, my love,” he replies as he takes your hand in his, leading you to the center of the ballroom floor, both of you bashfully smiling and giddy with affection for the other. You do your best to ignore the stares of others around you, most of them just eager to see the display of love from the newest royal couple in front of them, and keep your focus entirely on Felix.

You can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger on his lips before he shifts his attention back to your eyes, his cheeks dusted a pretty shade of pink contrasted against his freckles. You really want him to kiss you, if you’re being honest, but you don’t think it’d be entirely wise to share your first kiss with the eyes of the entire ballroom on you.

Maybe, if either of you can conjure your bravery later on, you can kiss in the privacy of your shared room, free to indulge in the feeling of each other for as long as you wish too. Though, perhaps you should stop thinking such thoughts for the moment, lest Felix realizes you’re blushing way too hard. For now, you'll just enjoy the moment you're sharing with him, knowing now, with all your heart, that your love for him is true.

The remainder of your night continued without incident, sharing a few more dances with Felix before you separated again to continue mingling. You saw Christopher again briefly, where he apologized for his behavior and then brought you over to meet his wife.

She really seemed like a sweet girl, and you hoped that Chris would be more open to the idea of loving her now that there were no “what-ifs” keeping him held back. She also seemed quite genuinely infatuated with him, which you couldn’t blame her for– Chris was strikingly handsome, and you might have still held similar feelings for him if it wasn’t for Felix. 

When the ball came to a close, you were eager to get back to your room and get your aching feet out of the heels you’d worn to match your gown, as well as get the heavy, dangly earrings off your ears. You insist that Felix bathe first, as it will take you quite some time to remove all your accessories, get your hair down from the way it was styled, and out of your intricate gown (not as intricate as your wedding gown, of course, but still enough that you wouldn’t be able to remove it swiftly.) 

He didn’t take all that long in the bath, spending just enough time to wash up and effectively dry off, entering your room after he’s changed into his sleep clothes. He respectfully keeps his eyes away from you until he’s sat comfortably away from where you are at the vanity, your dress off and left only in your undergarments. You were brushing out your hair, making sure it was completely tamed and smoothed down to make washing easier before you enter the bath. 

You take a quick glance at Felix before you enter the attached bath, his back turned to you as he nervously fiddles with his thumbs. You soak in the tub for some time, letting the hot water soothe you until it turns cooler, now comfortably warm as you take time washing your hair and body.

Normally you wouldn’t take such a long time in the bath, but it was just so relaxing after the long day you’ve had, and you indulged in the comfort it offered you before you got out to dry off and slip on fresh clothes. 

You half expected for Felix to be in bed already, but when you step out you see that he was waiting up for you, sitting atop the blankets of your bed, back against the headboard. “Sorry I took so long, you didn’t have to wait for me,” you say as you step to your designated side of the bed, mirroring his position against the headboard.

“Well, I didn’t want to go straight to bed without having some down time with you,” he explains a bit timidly, and you smile, finding him endlessly sweet. 

The light in the room is low, the only candles lit now being the ones closest to your bed. He sits up straighter, turning to you with a nervous disposition, and you watch him curiously, wondering what’s on his mind to make him look at you in such a way. “Listen, before we go to bed, I, uh– I actually have something for you,” Felix says, meeting your gaze timidly. 

“Really? What is it?” you ask, having not expected to receive anything so suddenly. Well, sudden to you, but Felix had actually been planning this for quite some time. He steadies his nerves and turns to his nightstand, opening the drawer and digging through it until he finds what he needs– a book.

You recognize it instantly when it’s in front of you; it’s a new, almost pristine copy of the book you told him was your favorite, the one you insisted you didn’t need when you stopped to look at it the day you were out together. “When did you get this?” you ask in surprise, carefully taking it in your hands and ghosting your fingers over the cover.

“The same night you saw it, I asked a guard to discreetly purchase it for you,” he explains with a soft, sheepish smile, hoping you’re pleased. “There’s something else,” he says, and you glance up at him in even further surprise. Gently, he takes the book from your hands, opening it to a specific page. 

“I.. before giving it to you, I wanted to read it, understand for myself why it's your favorite. So.. I did, and there’s a part that really resonates with me, and.. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to read it to you,” he explains, and your heart stirs, thumping wildly in your chest.

How is he so considerate and perfect? You almost can’t believe it, and you don't even know how he found the time to read it without you knowing, but you can ask him about it later. For now, you're much more interested in the fact that he not only read your favorite novel, but wants to share a part he loved with you, a part that spoke to him, and wants you to listen to him read it in his beautiful, deep voice. 

He swallows, takes a breath, hands trembling a bit as he holds the book open and looks down at the page in front of him. You watch him with full attention, somehow feeling just as nervous; you don’t know what he intends to read, and as you yourself have read this story countless times, it’s hard to imagine which specific part he’d like the most– there were just so many possibilities and moments you loved to try and guess. But then he starts, and immediately, you feel your heart positively melt. 

"Taeryn stares at her, his fingertips ghosting her skin, his eyes transfixed in her stare, her gaze swallowing him whole. And he knows, as his fingers brush her hair softly out of her face, as her cheeks burn and breath hitches with his gentle touch, that he loves her. 

He loves her as naturally as he breathes air; to love her is effortless, as easy as it is to simply be. He loves her for as many reasons as there are stars in the sky– countless, never ending. She engulfs him, enraptures him, a moth unable to resist her bright, beckoning flame. 

And he knows, from the way every synapse in his brain fires when their lips meet, how his blood burns in his veins simply from her touch, that there is no greater feeling beyond this. To be lost in her is God's greatest gift, and he will thank Him for the rest of his days, because what else could compare to the pure bliss of loving with all that you are, and being loved in return?”

The words that you already found so beautiful sound even more so coming from him, and you can’t help but suck in a breath as you listen to him speak the words written on the page, as if he’s mirroring the character, feeling the very same emotion.

He closes the book slowly, and your heart races when his eyes meet yours again. What should you say? It was beautiful? Thank you? That doesn’t feel like nearly enough to describe how you feel or how much you appreciate this gesture. 

Felix carefully sets the book to the side, his palms beginning to clam up as he looks at you. He planned this for a specific reason, but now that he’s met with the most critical moment of all, his mouth feels dry, and his chest tightens as his heart accelerates.

He wants to tell you he loves you, and maybe he’s been reading the signs all wrong, but he thinks you love him too, he hopes you do. Maybe your affection for him doesn’t go past platonic, which he would learn to accept with time, but it would truly break his heart if you didn’t feel the same.

So he hopes, he prays, with all his heart, that when he tells you how he feels, you’ll reciprocate. You can tell what he wants to say, even with your lack of romantic experience, it’s obvious; no one commits to a gesture so thoughtful and romantic without the intent to become something greater. Given your time reading romance, that’s something you feel confident enough to say– Felix loves you. And you love him too. 

So you meet him halfway, inching ever so slightly closer to him, looking him in the eyes as you do. His eyes dart from your eyes to your lips and then back again, his breath beginning to go uneven. Felix looks at you, eyes full of love, awe, and wonder, and not wasting another breath, he kisses you, his hands reaching to your face, holding it in his hands. It’s chaste and careful, your eyes remaining closed for several seconds after he’s pulled away, your body buzzing with elation. 

“I– I didn’t get to tell you earlier, but you looked so beautiful today and I–” he swallows, nervous to continue, but pushing through it the best he could, “I wanted to tell you, wanted to kiss you, and I.. love you.” It feels as if a million butterflies are in your stomach, light and erratic in their movement, their excitement unable to be contained.

“I love you too,” you admit, breathy and soft, inching a bit closer, and he does the same, until your bodies are only centimeters apart. “Is it okay to– ..I want to kiss you again,” he asks, desperately awaiting your approval. You grant him it easily, and his lips are on you again within seconds. 

One of his hands remains on your face, cupping it gently, while the other moves to your waist, arm wrapping around carefully, keeping you close. The foreign feelings you’d never experienced that were in all the literature you read– you feel them now, intense and overwhelming, your senses knowing nothing other than Felix.

What is it that novels usually compare it to? Sparks flying? This was beyond simple sparks– it was like fireworks, bright, beautiful, bursting in your blood and filling you with warmth. 

The kisses you share are slow, measured and careful, and you never separate for long, your lips always finding each other again within seconds. Felix is breathless when he finally pulls away for longer than a few seconds, his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes looking straight into yours, countless emotions swimming in them.

“I want.. can I be honest?” he asks and you swallow, whispering a soft ‘yes’ that you hope doesn't sound too nervous. “I.. want you, really, really badly but.. truth be told, I'm nervous,” he expresses sincerely, his cheeks growing a deep shade of pink, traveling all the way up to the tips of his ears.

Your face, already flushed from kissing, grows impossibly hotter from his admission. He wants you.. Like wants you, wants you? You want him too, having spent multiple sleepless nights wondering what it would be like to have each other, body and soul. 

“It's alright, I am too,” you tell him honestly. “Are you?” he can't help but ask; not because he doubts you, but rather wanting the affirmation that he isn't the only one with a heart racing out of control. You nod, seeking out his hand and intertwining your fingers. “I am. But I want you too.”

God, he almost feels light headed; he can't believe the moment he's secretly dreamed of countless times is actually happening. His face is hot, his blood burns, his heart thumps loudly in his chest, and you want him, you want him, you want him.

He takes a breath, does his best to steel his nerves before he speaks again, “We'll go slow, so please tell me if it becomes too much.” You nod, giving his hand a squeeze, meant to convey that you understand and will do as he requested if you begin to feel overwhelmed.

“I love you,” Felix whispers against your lips before he captures them in another kiss, needier this time, more urgent and impassioned. You can't help but let out a noise of surprise at first, but you easily melt into the kiss, eyes closing as you meet his passion with fervor of your own. 

His kisses are slow, just as before, but they feel more purposeful, sensual, and when you feel his tongue against your lips, begging to be let in, you easily oblige the request, opening your mouth for him and allowing his tongue to run across yours. Your stomach flips, the feeling of his tongue curiously exploring and rubbing around yours making you dizzy; you never knew kissing could feel this good.

It's so intimate to share your breath with someone, and you feel your body react in ways entirely new, but pleasant. You spend several minutes just like this; kissing over and over, letting his tongue draw circles around yours, only pulling away when one of you desperately needs a breath. 

“Can I touch you?” Felix asks once he's pulled away again, and the question, along with the deep, breathy baritone of his voice, makes a shiver run down your spine as butterflies once again flutter in your stomach. “Yes,” you breathe, perhaps sounding a bit more eager than you would've wished, but really, you shouldn't feel embarrassed when he wants you just as bad as you want him. 

Again, his lips are on you, but this time he allows his hands to carefully roam your body, gentle and slow in their exploration. Even though he's simply touching you over your clothes, you react to his touch as if bare, whimpering into his mouth when he palms your breasts with both hands and gently squeezes. 

It's easy for his thumbs to find your hardened nipples through the fabric of your nightgown, and again you let a soft sound of pleasure pass your lips. Felix pulls away to look at you, flushed, breathless, and so, so pretty; he's never felt more blessed in his entire life than he does right now.

He watches you bite your lip when his thumbs pass over your nipples again, doing your best to suppress what you perceive to be an embarrassing noise. “Is it alright if I take this off you?” he asks, stilling the movement of his hands as he waits for your answer.

“O-Only if you take your clothes off too,” you answer shyly, and he smiles timidly, finding your request more than fair. “Of course, my love. Whatever you want.” Felix stands from the bed, slowly pulling his sleep shirt up and over his head, likely feeling that you'll be more comfortable if he's the one who's exposed first.

And God, you can't believe the physique he'd been hiding underneath all this time; his lean body much more toned than you could've even imagined. He feels shy under your attentive gaze, but he continues nonetheless, taking the waistband of his pants into his fingers and pulling them down his legs.

His erection, of course, doesn't go unnoticed by you, and you can't help but stare at the obvious tent it creates in his underwear. You've never seen one before, and you're infinitely curious what his looks like, but there's no need to rush to find out; you have all night together. 

Swallowing down the shyness your stare makes him feel, he returns to the bed, sitting directly in front of you. You start to lift up your gown, but he stops you, replacing your hands with his own– after all, he asked if he could be the one to take it off you. You allow him to lift it up to your shoulders before you help him take it all the way off, paying no mind to where on the floor it lands once it has been tossed aside. 

The shy part of you makes you want to cover your breasts and avoid his gaze, but the other part can't help but indulge in the mesmerized twinkle held in Felix’s eyes. “So beautiful,” you hear him say under his breath, his hands now making contact with your skin without a barrier. You look down, taking in the sight of his hands holding and squeezing your breasts. 

Your body shudders when his thumbs once again rub over you nipples, and he loves watching the way your face changes, how your brows furrow and you bite your lip. He loves the way you gasp when he takes your nipples between his fingers, how your eyes close and head falls back when he carefully rubs and pinches them. 

He kisses you when you lift your head again, but he doesn't linger there for nearly as long as before; instead, he begins to trail kisses down your jaw, to your neck. The kisses make you shiver, and you tilt your head to the side, allowing him easier access to your heated skin. He carefully guides you back as he kisses all over your skin, so that you fall back against the bed, head not quite making it to the pillows, but you don’t particularly care.

He takes his time, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses over the expanse of your neck, his slow descent to your collarbone and the top of your chest nearly driving you crazy with want. Your breath hitches when he kisses one of your nipples before letting his tongue come out to lick it, lips closing gently around it.

He gives your other nipple equal attention once he's satisfied with his stimulation of the first one he devoted his attention to, and then slowly trails kisses down your body, below your ribs and over your stomach. You feel almost delirious with anticipation, and you half wonder if he's only going slow to drive you crazy (he isn't, of course, but you're becoming much too needy to recognize that.)

Felix caresses your legs, placing kisses over your thighs, as well as just over your panties. There's an obvious wet spot, which you can't help but feel embarrassed by once you've seen that he's noticed. You can't help it– this is easily the most aroused you've been in your entire life.

“Want me to take them off?” he asks, and you nod eagerly, covering your face in embarrassment when he chuckles at you. “You're so cute when you're shy,” he says, and you let out a whine; why does he have to say it with such a sinfully attractive voice?

Your reactions boost his confidence, helping to alleviate some of the nerves he'd felt when you first began. And you really are so, so cute right now; it simultaneously further endears him to you and makes his cock throb. 

“I'm going to take them off now,” he warns since you aren't looking at him, and he wants you to be completely aware of what actions he takes. You peek through your fingers, nervously anticipating what his reaction to your exposed sex will be. He slowly pulls your underwear down your legs, and you take a deep breath before you part your legs for him to see you fully. 

Fuck, you're perfect. There is nothing in the world that could've prepared him for the sight of your glistening heat. He swallows and licks his lips, looking back at you before taking any further action. “Do you need to stop?” he asks, not wanting to push you too far if you aren't ready for this. Truthfully, you are overwhelmed– but in the best way possible, and you definitely don't want to stop here. 

“No, want more,” you admit, trying your best not to stutter or mumble so he hears you clearly. “Tell me if you change your mind?” he says, more like a question than a statement, and you nod, assuring him you will if you feel the need to. He lowers himself so his head is between your legs, and the sight of him there alone is positively dizzying. 

You hear him comment under his breath about how wet you are as his fingers rub through your folds, which does no favors for your racing heart. He then carefully spreads you apart with two fingers, and again, you see him swallow and lick his lips. Fuck, he has to taste you, needs to find out if you're just as sweet as he imagines you to be. 

Everything is so new to both of you, and Felix doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing, but instinct drives him forward. You gasp and shudder when his tongue makes contact with your dripping heat, slowly but greedily licking up all you offer him. When his tongue finds your clit (a pleasant accident on Felix’s part given his unfamiliarity with the female body), the pleasured noise that involuntarily escapes you tells him he should focus his attention there. 

“Feels good?” he asks before he licks again; he’s sure he knows the answer, but he still wants to hear you say it anyways. You nod quickly, another embarrassingly loud moan leaving your lips when his tongue swirls around your most sensitive spot. You’ve pleasured yourself before, in private moments with your own fingers, but nothing, absolutely nothing, compares to how Felix’s tongue feels. 

His lips wrap around your clit, as if kissing it, his tongue alternating between long, flat licks, quick flicks, and swirling around it, and you’re positively seeing stars, eyes rolling back as your head falls back against the mattress. You cover your mouth with your hand, your other hand desperately clutching at the sheets beneath you, legs trembling and thighs unconsciously closing around Felix’s head. 

You feel it, the familiar heat pooling deep in your stomach, your muffled moans quickly turning to desperate whines and whimpers as he drives you closer and closer to sweet release. You can tell however, that your orgasm will be much more intense than any you had ever given yourself, and it scares and excites you in equal measure. But fuck, even muffled, your noises sound so unbelievably sweet in his hears, and he wants to hear them louder, clearer. 

“Take your hand away, my love, I want to hear you,” he separates from your heat long enough to tell you, and you whine, this time in embarrassment, as you lift your head up to look at him. A mistake, in hindsight– the sight you’re met with being more erotic than your heart can handle. His mouth and chin glisten with your arousal, the sweat lingering on his brow making his hair stick to his forehead in a way that makes your heart want to give out– he’s just so.. alluring.

“But the guards,” you try, and he shakes his head, not at all deterred by the fact that they stand outside your bedroom doors. “Don’t care,” he says simply, and you can tell he’s completely serious. There aren’t many things Felix is selfish about in his life, but this, you– he’ll be as selfish as he pleases. “They’re just for me, right? So I don’t care if they hear them, because you’re mine, and they know that too. So please, let me hear you.” 

Oh, wow. How can you deny him after hearing that? With a shy nod, you agree to not cover your mouth anymore, and he smiles, pleased with your response, and quickly gets back to work between your legs. It’s insane how quickly your release builds back up, as if there was never a pause to begin with, and a curse leaves you between your loud, whiny moans and whimpers.

Felix has never heard you curse before, but he has to admit he likes how it sounds coming from you, and knowing he has caused you to become debauched enough to do so without being conscious of it. Before you know it, you’re seeing white, releasing all over his face as your body jolts and trembles, back arching from the bed as he continues to stimulate you through it.

You eventually whine and push his head away from you, becoming overstimulated from all the attention his tongue continued to give you after your orgasm. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before he moves up your body, connecting his lips with yours again, and the taste of yourself lingering on him and his tongue makes your head spin. 

Your hands reach for his underwear, trying to pull down the fabric and spring his cock free; it’s a much more forward and desperate act than you ever imagined yourself doing, but you’re so hungry for him that you can no longer think about being demure. You just want him, more than you’ve ever wanted anything in all your years on this earth. Felix takes the hint, not that it’s even subtle enough to be a ‘hint,’ and makes quick work of taking off his underwear. 

The sight of his cock leaves you speechless, breathless; do they all look so simultaneously hot and pretty, or is it just because it belongs to Felix? “Can I..?” you ask, not entirely sure what you’re asking to do– you just know you want to make him feel as good as he made you feel. God, yes, please, Felix thinks, but he just nods with a slightly shy smile, shifting his weight off you and laying on his side next to you. 

You lay on your side as well, pressing a kiss to his lips as your hand reaches for his cock, fingers curiously running along his length, feeling every vein and ridge. Felix releases a shuddery breath against your mouth, your fingers feeling so different from his own, small and soft, but so, so good. Your touch is intoxicating, and his body jolts when you rub your thumb over the tip, spreading his pre-cum all over it. 

A soft groan escapes him when you enclose your fingers around his length, fingers not quite able to wrap completely around and meet your thumb, but it’s more than enough to have Felix feeling good when you start slowly moving your fist up to the tip and then back down. Eventually, as your fingers spread more and more of his pre-cum, his length becomes slick, and it becomes easier for you to pick up your pace, swallowing all the low groans he emits with your mouth.

But you can’t help but think– it felt so good when Felix used his tongue on you, so wouldn’t the same be true for him? Isn’t it worth trying? He opens his eyes when you take your hand away, watching curiously and with bated breath as you gently push him back by the shoulder, having him lay flat on his back as you move to lie comfortably against his legs, his cock a mere inches away from your face. 

He lifts himself up to watch you, supporting his weight with his forearms, breath quickening as you take him in your hand again, sticking your tongue out to curiously lick the tip. The taste of his pre-cum is unlike anything you’ve ever had, and while you don’t think there is anything you could compare it to, it’s not unpleasant. You look up at Felix through your lashes, and God, the sight of you, so pretty and perfect, with his cock in your hand and tongue licking away at him, is enough to drive him crazy. 

Would he fit inside your mouth? How good would it make him feel? Driven by curiosity and desire, you open your mouth, your tongue caressing the underside of his cock as you start to sink your head down on him, and the shaky, breathy groan he lets out in response makes your heart skip a beat and core throb. You keep your eyes on him, watching as his head falls back, his adam’s apple bob up and down, the way his stomach contracts the more you pleasure him. 

The sounds that escape him encourage you to keep trying your best to take more of him in your mouth, retreating just a bit when you’ve taken enough of him to cause yourself to gag. Felix has to make a conscious effort to not buck his hips up and drive himself further down your throat, lest he hurt you or make you gag again, but fuck, it feels unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He knows for a fact he’s going to cum if he lets you keep going much longer, and so, with a shaky breath, he asks you to stop.

You pull off of him the moment he asks, looking at him curiously; you knew he was feeling good, so why did he want you to stop? He sits up completely, capturing your lips in a kiss lest you worry about how well you did for him; you were perfect, you’ll always be perfect, and even if he’s at times too shy to convey that with words, he’ll make sure you know with his actions.

“I want to be inside you,” he tells you, lips still close enough to yours to easily kiss you again, to feel your breath against your skin, “do you want that too? Do you want me?” 

God, yes, you want him so fucking bad. Are you nervous? Of course you are, you’ve never been so intimate with someone before, but there’s no one in this world you would rather give yourself to than Felix. You want to be connected to him, physically, mentally, in all ways conceivable. He’s the one for you, the love of your life, the most perfect man you’d ever known, so there’s not a single doubt in your mind, or your heart, that he’s the one you want to do this with, and that you want to do it now.

“Yes,” you kiss him, “I want you,” another kiss, “so bad,” and another. He’s elated to hear you say it, his relief and joy going beyond words. He would’ve waited for you, of course he would’ve, but he can’t deny how much he craves being inside you, making love to you, pouring all his love and affection into you.

He loves you so, so much, and it’s reflected even in his most carnal of desires. It’s more than sex, it’s more than simply wanting to feel good; to be with you intimately is the greatest display of love you could ever share.

He lies you down carefully, making sure your head actually makes it to the pillows this time, and he situates himself between your legs, hands rubbing over your hips and thighs as he leaves another lingering kiss to your reddened lips. His hand comes between your legs, and he finds your hole with his fingers, wanting to make sure he knew where to aim his cock. You’re still so wet and warm, and the fact that he’s this close to being inside you feels like a blissful dream. 

Taking his cock in his hand and lining it up, he looks at you, wanting to make sure one last time that you want him to keep going. “Are you ready?” he asks and you nod, completely, 100% positive you want him inside you.

“Yes, I'm ready, please put it in,” you practically beg, and that’s all Felix needs to hear to continue. He starts to push in slowly, watching your face carefully for any discomfort or pain, stopping when he hears you let out a small hiss. 

“Are you okay? Do you need to stop?” Felix asks, using all of his self control to make sure he takes good care of you, and makes your first times as comfortable as possible. “I-I’m okay, just keep going slow,” you tell him and he nods, seeking out one of your hands and intertwining your fingers.

“Squeeze if you need to, okay? I won’t do anything to hurt you, my love, tell me to stop and I will.” You smile, already knowing he’d do his utmost best to make you feel safe, loved, and comfortable. It stings a bit, but it doesn’t necessarily hurt– and Felix’s soothing words, touch, and kisses do wonders in lessening the discomfort you initially felt.

Felix clenches his teeth once he’s fully sheathed inside your heat, your warm, wet walls tightly enveloping him making him almost overwhelmed from how good it feels. He thought your mouth was amazing, but this– God, it’s better than anything he could’ve ever imagined. 

You can see how much effort he’s pouring into staying still until you're ready for him to move– clenched jaw, furrowed brows, sweat dripping from his brow from concentration. Contrary to what he expected, he’s the one squeezing your hand, trying desperately to ground himself and not lose control of his body, to succumb to his senses. He’s breathing heavily, forehead once again pressing against yours, but you don’t mind in the slightest. 

You love how close he is, how full of him you feel, how the sting and discomfort slowly dissolves away, leaving nothing but the desire to feel him move inside you. “You can move, I’m ready,” you whisper, and carefully, slowly, he pulls out to the tip before pressing back in one gentle, fluid motion.

“It’s okay? Doesn’t hurt?” he asks and you shake your head, timidly smiling at him. “Feels good, keep going,” you tell him, and he easily obliges, wanting nothing more than to lose himself in the feeling of you.

He can’t help but groan, even with the slow pace he’s setting he just feels so good, and the way you look up at him doesn’t do him any favors. Your pretty eyes, your flushed face, the way your hair has messily fallen around you, the way you clench with every sound that tumbles from his lips, letting him know how much you like hearing him– everything, literally everything about you, about this moment, is a blessing to him. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, causing him to push in deeper, and his eyes roll back, head falling forward into your shoulder as another groan leaves him. He gradually starts to pick up his pace, always making sure you’re comfortable and enjoying it before he goes faster, experimenting with angles to find what feels best for you, because everything is already good for him. 

He knows he’s found the right angle when you let out a loud gasp, followed by a moan when he thrusts again, and again, your hand tightly squeezing his, though he knows it’s purely because of the pleasure, and not at all because he’s hurting you or you need him to stop. You curse under your breath again, your nails starting to dig into the flesh under his knuckles, your other hand clutching once again at the sheets beneath you. 

“Feels good? Tell me, tell me it feels good,” Felix practically begs in your ear, his deep voice growing higher in pitch as he drives himself closer to release, his groans turning into desperate sounding whines. “So good, fuck, love you so much, feels so good,” you babble, and Felix whines louder, hips stuttering as he continues fucking into you.

He intended for this moment to be sweet and sensual until the end, but he really didn’t anticipate how your walls around his cock would drain him of his composure. You don’t seem to mind in the slightest however– in fact, you seem to be enjoying the moment just as much as him, your legs starting to tremble as your second orgasm looms closer and your moans and whines grow in volume.

He crashes his lips into yours, your kisses turning much less romantic than before, having devolved into a messy, desperate display of tongue and teeth. It’s a different sort of display of passion, but it is passion all the same, and you couldn’t ask for anything better than this; Felix is perfect in everything he does, and this is no exception. 

You can feel his cock twitching and throbbing, and you know he must be close; so you keep your legs tightly wrapped around him, making sure that when his cum shoots inside you, it’ll be as deep as it can get. Feeling close yourself, and wanting to cum with him, you bring your free hand to your clit, rubbing it in the quick circles you know feels best for you. Within seconds, you’re cumming around his cock, and the way you squeeze and clench around him is enough to send him straight into his, his cum shooting out in long spurts, filling you to the brim. 

You’re both breathless, hearts racing and bodies hot, and after collecting his breath, Felix kisses you again, not messy or desperate as just moment priors, but full of love, truly the happiest he has ever been. He doesn’t pull out of you until he feels himself start to soften, and he mutters for you to wait there for a moment and stay still as he rushes to the attached bathroom for a tissue to clean you up.

You wince a little, a bit tender and sensitive from all the attention you received, but Felix is gentle and careful, as he is with everything when it comes to you. When he’s done, you make your way under the blankets, shifting over to your side of the bed, waiting for him to blow out the candles and settle in next to you.

Should you both get dressed? Maybe, but neither of you particularly want to– there’s something special and intimate in staying just as you are now, bare in each other's arms. He holds you close, as he always does, kissing the top of your head, and smiling when you look up at him from where your head lies against his chest.

“I love you so much,” he tells you and you smile too, pecking him on the lips and hugging him tight. “I love you too,” you whisper as you close your eyes, exhaustion quickly settling over you. You never imagined how happy you would one day become the day you became Felix’s wife, and now you know that it was actually a blessing in disguise, something you didn’t know you needed. 

From the moment he first saw you, Felix knew you were the one, instantly enamored with you. He hoped with all his heart his marriage was one he could be happy in, that his wife would be someone he could truly love, and you answered his prayers from the very moment you entered his life. He doesn’t want to say it was love at first sight, but somehow, he just knew– you were perfect, the one he was destined to be with and love with all his heart, his soulmate. 

It sounds like a cliche he’d find in one of your romance novels, but it’s genuinely how he feels. No one in this world would ever compare to you, and he’d forever be grateful to his parents, your parents, and even God himself, for putting you on this earth at the same time as him, and allowing you to be his wife.

He wishes he had words stronger than “I love you,” or that he knew how to articulate himself in a way that would explain the depths of how he feels, but he supposes those simple words will have to do. He loves you, and there has never been anything he's been more certain of than that. 

[arcane-vagabond]

The Yawning Grave: Prologue

The Yawning Grave: Prologue

Pairing: Isaac Lahey x Reader

Summary: A trip to Scotland during the summer after your senior year of college was supposed to be filled with adventure and your weight in whiskey. However, after a night of chatting with a handsome stranger at a local pub, you're whisked away to a land filled with creatures your grandfather had warned you about long ago. Trapped in this world, you'll have to call upon that knowledge your grandfather imparted upon you, all while dealing with the same handsome stranger from that last night.

Content Warning: Mythology, Folktales, Fairytales, Mentions of absent parents, Fae mentions, Traveling. I think that's it, but please let me know if I've missed something!

Word Count: 1.3k

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Grimms fairytales, the true versions, the ones with blood and magic and death taught lessons about the wicked ways of mankind. That’s what your father had always told you when he read them to you before bed. He taught you that there was always a lesson to be gained from the fantastic tales of goblins, giants, and evil witches. Don’t be too greedy. Don’t covet. Do unto others. You found comfort in these stories, knowing that the monsters in them were ones that every person faced, that every person strived to work against. More often than not, the heroes of the story prevailed by some means, earning a life of wealth and prosperity because of their actions.

It was your grandfather’s stories, however, that left you with a sickening feeling. Fairies were not small, dainty little people who made flowers bloom and troubles disappear. No, they were mischievous at best, causing problems for the common, hardworking people for their enjoyment. At their worst, they were malicious, vindictive creatures who sought retribution for perceived wrongs.

They were warnings.

“Never make a deal with the cunning folk,” your grandfather had warned you, his normally twinkling eyes solemn as they stared down at where you were tucked under the warm blankets. “Never give them your name. Once they have it, it’s theirs forever, and you can never get it back.”

“Why do they want my name, Grampa?” You asked, voice soft and eyes wide as you stared up at him, clutching the blankets tighter.

“Because, Puck,” he murmured, placing a gentle hand to the top of your head as he leaned in, as if to tell a secret, “having the name of something gives you power over it. Never give them your full name, but a nickname will do just fine. The wee folk can’t tell lies, you see, and they expect the same from you or me. Don’t give them your real name, but don’t give them a fake one either, or they’ll grow angry. A nickname should do just fine.”

“I thought fairies were supposed to be good?” You questioned, wrinkling your nose in confusion. The old man let out a chuckle, smiling at you warmly as the kindness returned to him.

“They can be, little Puck,” he amended, patting your head gently. “But best not to take the chance, agreed?”

Then he had placed a kiss to the top of your head and bid you a goodnight, leaving you to ponder his words as you drifted off to sleep, thoughts of dancing figures and jingling laughter flitting through your head.

Years passed from that moment, and you were now a young adult on the cusp of starting your official adult life. Exams had finished, and you had earned your degree, actively on the hunt for a job with several prospects. You toyed with the idea of taking a few months off to allow yourself time to breathe before undertaking the task of real adult responsibilities, which your parents assured you were much more demanding than the responsibilities you’d had in college.

“Finding a job is important,” your mother had said, “but you should take some time to enjoy being young. Take the summer, honey. There’ll be jobs waiting for you when you’re ready.”

The issue was further pressed when your friends Caroline and Brianna had invited you on a summer trip to Scotland.

“Oh, please, Puck?” Caroline begged, blue eyes wide and pleading as she grabbed your hands from across the table. “It won’t be as much fun without you there.”

“She’s right,” Brianna nodded, leaning into the blonde sitting across from you. “It’s all or nothing.”

“Are you two paying for my ticket?” You snorted, gazing between your two best friends. Caroline’s eyes lit up in a familiar twinkle that immediately had you shaking your head. “Nuh uh. No way. I’m not going to take advantage of you like that.”

“Oh, please,” she scoffed, flipping her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. “You know my parents won’t care. They’re too busy vacationing in Switzerland this summer to care what I’m doing with their money.”

You grimaced. You loved Caroline dearly, and you wonder every day how she didn’t end up as an out of touch rich kid, especially with how absent her parents seemed to be.

“If you’re taking advantage of her, then so am I, Puck,” Brianna smiled, wagging her brows at you. Brianna was a spunky brunette with an eye for numbers, having graduated alongside you and Caroline with a degree in engineering. “Besides, this’ll be our last chance to spend some time together before you move overseas and then we’ll never get to see you.”

That was also true. You had been accepted into the Medieval and Renaissance Studies program at the University College London and would be moving before the start of the new term. You chewed on your bottom lip, peering up to look between your two best friends. Caroline wore her pleading expression again while Brianna looked at you expectantly. You let out a sigh, watching as the two of them grinned at you, knowing they had won.

“Alright, fine.”

“I knew you wouldn’t turn down a free trip!” Caroline exclaimed, earning half-hearted glares from the other patrons in the small cafe. Paying them no mind, she pulled out her phone to start making plans.

“Alright, where do we want to go?”

Two weeks later, you stood on the platform in the highland town of Inverness, waiting for your friends to catch up with you with their luggage in hand. You were excited to see the rich history of the highlands with your own eyes, having convinced Caroline and Brianna almost immediately with their love for the show “Outlander,” and while you adored the show just as much, it was the history and the folklore you were after. The air was cool, but not cold as you stepped out into the square, taking in the stone buildings and the overcast sky. Above, seagulls cried out, eyeing the ground below for their next easy meal.

“Do you have the address for the hotel?” Asked Caroline as she rummaged through her bag beside you.

“Sure do,” you chirped, watching the different people walk along the streets as you waited for your app to load. Brianna let out a loud yawn beside you, rubbing at her eyes.

“How long have we been awake?” She grumbled, checking her phone with a weary blink of her eyes.

“Doesn’t matter,” you replied, bouncing from one foot to the other in excitement. “We can’t go to sleep until later or we’ll be jetlagged the whole trip.”

Brianna mumbled something under her breath, but you paid her no mind, knowing how cranky she got when sleep deprived.

“I say we drop our stuff off at the hotel, get something to eat, and then pick a pub to spend the rest of the night in,” Caroline grinned from beside you. Brianna wrinkled her nose at the idea, but you bumped her shoulder with yours as you smiled.

“Come on, Bri,” you chuckled. “How often are we going to get to do this after this trip?”

She didn’t look convinced as the three of you made your way in the direction of the hotel, your suitcases clacking against the cobblestone beneath you.

“What if we let you sleep in as long as you want tomorrow?” Caroline suggested, earning a thoughtful look from the brunette. You sighed, wincing internally at Caroline’s suggestion. Brianna was known to sleep long and hard, and the three of you had reservations to go to.

“As long as you want without missing anything,” you amended, shooting a look at Caroline. Knowing she was outvoted, Brianna let out a heavy sigh.

“Alright, fine,” she relented. “But I get to pick where we get food.”

A/N: And we're off! I realize that this is an incredibly niche character from a fandom long past, but I'm excited for this! This will definitely be my little pet project to keep me writing, and I hope you guys stick around for the journey because this is another story that started out as an original fiction. If you've been around long enough, you'll know I love taking my original fiction ideas and turning them into fanfic to see how people receive them. But we're back in my Teen Wolf era, folks!

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[divinesolas]

Flowers | The Series | Chapter Fourteen | The Calm Before The Storm

Summary | it is the aftermath of the tourney and the surprises that come with it

Pairing | Jacaerys Velaryon × Fem!Reader

Warnings | fluff, a lot of banter between you and the prince, relationship development, not proofread, eating food

Word Count | 3.4k

a/n | sorry for the wait on this one was a little stuck in the direction i wanted to take,, hope you enjoy !! <333

series masterlist

Peonies, though they have many meanings, luck, prosperity, good fortune, the most common meaning is romance. The heat hasn't been able to leave your face ever since the flower crown was tossed into your lap. 

You run your fingers along the petal of the crown. They look very bright meaning they had been picked recently. You hold them up closer to your face and smell them. They are fragrant but you can smell a hint of dirt and if you look at them closely you can see that they are quite crushed from being gripped by leather covered hands.

You are definitely not keeping your attention on the flower crown to distract yourself from the fact almost every single person that walked by or was ever standing near the two of you was staring at you as you briskly tried to walk away and find a place where no one else was so you could gather your thoughts. you ignore trisk rambling your ear off about the prince and how charming he was. Your parents had wandered off with trisk’s parents to catch up, but not before your mother gave you a warning look and your father dragged her away giving you a reassuring look. It had given you chills but you ignored it for now, making a mental note to come back to it later. 

You are so lost within the throbbing of your own heart that you barely register the call of your name until trisk rapidly shakes your shoulder, “joffrey, you fought well-” 

“There is no need for flattery, my lady. I need to speak with you.”

Trisk perks up and lets go of your arm eyeing around the different stands, “that is no problem i will go walk-”

“You may stay, I shall be quick.” 

His eyes have never left your face as he grabs your hands, “I have enjoyed our time together and you have become a dear friend to me but I don't see a future for us.”

Your eyes widen as trisk gasps beside you. “Joffrey, but what about-” 

He laughs and shakes his head, a look of sadness in his eyes as he lifts your hands and kisses the back of them. “I made a promise to a friend. I must go.”

Your mind can barely conjure a thought as he pulls away from you and laughs again, a sad smile on his face as he looks over your shoulder. You turn and see jacaerys who was seemingly making his way towards you three but had been stopped by a lord who was loudly talking about how brilliant the fight was. As if he felt eyes on him his gaze drifts over to you and he smiles before seemingly bidding farewell to the lord and continues to make his way over to you.

“You shall always have a friend in the eyrie. Please come visit me sometime.” 

You nod and smile at him. “Of course I shall, I would be more than happy to.”  

In a weird way a sense of relief flows over you. As he bows and turns his back to you but before he had left he spared you some final words, “I hope he shall make you happy.” then not sparing a single glance. Even after the conversation with your parents and how they reaffirmed the fact that they were happy despite the fact they were not in love the queens had plagued your thoughts, if even a queen who has everything how can you be? Your parents must just be a rare case, especially knowing most marriages are not happy ones anyways. 

Maybe you could have been happy, maybe the two of you could have ended up like your parents thought now that would never be a reality. You barely even grasp how long you've been staring at where Joffrey was standing until you feel a hand on your shoulder. You jump and whip your head. “I'm so sorry my lady i hadnt meant to startle you.” 

The prince. The sun hit him so perfectly it was as if he was glowing, light bouncing off his eyes as if they were mirrors. You had never even noticed how soft his hair looks, curls that run down to his shoulder. You wonder if he did anything with them, if the maids put oils in his hair like they do yours or maybe he does it himself. Oh how nice it would be to run your fingers through it.

You snap out of whatever trance he had put you on once you hear him chuckle and gasp as you dip into a low bow with one of your hands flying up to cover your mouth with the other gripping the flower crown tightly in its grasp. . “I am so sorry, my prince.” mortified is not even enough to describe how you were feeling. You had been eyeing the prince… right in front of him! You imagine him to look angry or even disgusted at you once you stand straight up but if anything he looks the happiest you've ever seen him. A wide grin on his face and a twinkle in his eyes you haven't seen before. “Feel free to gawk at me as you like.”

“I was not gawking.” you turn to look at trisk for comfort but she must have run off leaving you alone. you could not even bear the humiliation you felt right now as he takes another step towards you and you take a step back. One of his hands reaches to grab the hand that had still been covering your face and removes it, pulling it all the way down until it was at your side but his hand stayed firm around your wrist. “That's a shame, I rather liked you looking at me like that.” When did the prince become so forward? He seemed to have this new rush of confidence about him, maybe it has come from winning the tournament, maybe he got a little in his head and felt as though he could do and say anything. “You must feel rather bold after winning the tourney my prince.” 

His smile only grows as he reaches down to your other hand and takes the flower crown from you and places it on your head. “I have won a much bigger prize today my lady.” he must not be referring to you. Is he mad? A part of you wants to ask what it is and by the look on his face he wants you to as well but you do not dare as a part of you fears his answer. “A bigger prize than winning the tourney, i am doubtful that is possible.” His smile is so large his eyes begin to crinkle forming crescents on his face as he shakes his head, “I would rather have this prize than any others in the whole realm.” you stand in silence unable to give any answer to him not that he is even looking for one. His hand that is wrapped around your wrist begins to burn as if his skin is lighting up a fire inside of you. A part of you wants to push him away, knowing that despite all the attention he has shown you not only privately but publicly as well the two of you standing here together could cause quite a scene. 

As if he could read your mind he lets go of your disappointment and instead offers you his arm. “I must insist you join me in walking around the stands my lady.” if you were rational you would refuse him, run away and hide under your sheets like a child. But you are a fool who takes his arm and lets him guide you towards the busy market place area.

Stands line the street as if you were walking around outside of the keep. Merchants from all over selling different sorts of items and foods. Despite the wonder of the market place around you your mind cannot help but stray off into thought as you had been all day. You must have tensed up or had an odd look on your face causing jacaerys to question you, “are you alright my lady?”

“Is this not inappropriate, my prince?” you cannot stop yourself from asking as your mind trails back to trisks earlier comment. He was in a courtship. Sure this whole event had been set up for him to be able to choose a wife but it felt like you were overstepping walking around with him as you were right now. “What is inappropriate, my lady?”

“Well, are you not in a courtship with lady baratheon?” He stiffens up at the mere mention of cassandra and rolls his neck as if he were irradiated before sighing. “We are nothing more than mere acquaintances my lady.” 

You feel a twitch of irritation flood your head at his dismissal, “People in courtships can be mere acquaintances, my prince.” “Rest assured I can promise you that is all we are.” his words come out hushed and rushed and you can feel his growing annoyance at this topic you immediately stiffen up. Maybe he truly is just stringing you along and truly is in a courtship with Cassandra and doesnt like that you've called him. You are oddly reminded of the power imbalance between the two of you and let go of his arm causing him to stop in his steps. “I am sorry my prince, I have overstepped.” 

You fold your hands in front of you as he turns away from you for a moment clearly running his hands down his face in frustration before turning back to you. “I didn't mean it like that. I am sorry the situation with her is merely,, frustrating. She is a rather insistent woman and has been incessantly always around me to an overwhelming degree. My anger is not targeted towards you. I must ask for your forgiveness.” 

He looks at you as if he were a young boy that accidentally knocked off his mother's vase asking for her forgiveness, a kicked puppy even. You feel a sense of relief as you are doubtful the prince would like you about such matters and nod at him, unsure of what to say. He lets out what you believe to be a breath of relief and once again offers you his arm. “Allow me to try this again my lady.”

You smile and grab his arm once more, “promise you shall not get angry at me.” you had been teasing him but he seems to take you rather seriously as he nods at you, “of course my lady i shall never.” 

“I was teasing you, my prince.”

“Jacaerys.”

You hum in confusion as the two of you continue to walk side by side, “call me jacaerys, jace if you so wish.” 

“I certainly cannot do such a thing.” you are horrified he would even ask you. “Why not? You called Ser Joffrey by his name, why not me?” if you had been paying attention closer you would have heard a sense of venom in his voice that many would interpret as jealousy. “He is a lord and you are a prince. It is very different.” “I do not find it all that different.” “That is because you are a prince, you do not see the difference.” “then your prince demands you to.” 

You turn your head towards him and he is already looking at you with a teasing grin on his face, “whatever do you mean?” “If you shall not do it when i ask then i demand you must do it for i am the prince.” 

You huff at his childlike actions, unable to hide the smile on your face as you knock into him as you walk. “You are ridiculous.” he looks at you expectantly, eyebrows raised and his head tilted much like a dog waiting for his food. “Fine you win, jacaerys.” as much as you wish you could say you find the word stuck in your mouth his name rolls off your tongue so seamlessly it is as if you were always meant to say it. You check the look on his face and he has a soft smile on his face and what many would say is a lovesick look in his eyes as he finally hears you say it. “I like the way you say my face.” It is soft and quiet as if you were not even meant to hear him speak and you quickly turn away from him, your face growing more and more hot by the second. 

You do not turn back to look at him for a few more moments and once you do you see he has changed his gaze back in front of him but that smile is still on his face. 

A couple quiet moments pass between the two of you, simply enjoying each other's presence and for the first time that day you feel as though your mind is free of the thoughts that had been plaguing you for hours. Simply finding comfort in the time you spent with the prince. “Are you hungry my lady?” you almost tell him not but suddenly your stomach rumbles and you are hit with the realization it was now midday and you had barely even eaten your breakfast this morning. “I could eat, my-” his eyebrows raise at you and you sign, “jacaerys.” he smiles once more and looks around at the stands before spotting one and eagerly rushing you towards it. “Everytime there is a tourney this man sets up shop here,” it was a skewer stand, with a wide variety of meats and veggies you could barely believe a stand like this could run out of this tiny shack. A man, seemingly the owner, has a wide grin on his face as he greets jacaerys. “My prince, I was hoping to see you.” “do not act as if you didn't know i would come.” The man laughs alreadying moving to give him a skewer of what you must assume to be what jacaerys always gets, “ a pork stick for you.” “thank you ser.” “And what would this fine lady like today?” you eye down the many options in front of you before pointing to one and in seconds it's in your hands. “Thank you kind ser.” you didn't even notice jacaerys paying and the two of you move to stand off to the side. You notice he always already ate some of his and you eagerly take a bite of yours, humming you look at jacaerys in shock. “This is wonderful.” “he is the best i know, everything he makes is good though i've never gotten the one you have my lady.” 

You offer it to him, holding the stick towards him to grab out of your hand. “Then you must try this one it is so good.” he looks shocked and eyes the skewer in your hands before nodding. You had expected him to grab it from your hand but instead he leaned his head down and took a bit of it right from your hand. One of his hands wrapping around yours to hold it still enough to bite. 

It feels intimate as if he was truly eating out of the palm of your hand and you can do nothing else but watch him as he stands fully back up and uses his free hand to cover his mouth while nodding. “This one might be better than my usual.” you don't make a move, not even a comment as he licks his stick clean and looks at you confused. “Is something the matter my lady?” you certainly cannot tell him the true reason as to why you had been frozen and lick your lips before quickly coming up with a lie.”you call me my lady.” he tilts his head, licks one of his fingers which you are choosing to ignore for your sanity. “And what of it?” “if i am to call you jacaerys you should also call me by my name.” you stress eat what little is left of your skewer to which he takes it out of your hands and tosses them away before turning back to you. “I am more than happy to do so, y/n”

A part of you regrets your decision as you are far too happy to hear your name from his lips but attempt to hide this fact from him as the two of you link arms once more and continue to walk down the market area. “This market is rather large, my prince.” “Well this is truly the main event of these sorts of things, tourneys do not last that long and they must come up with something else to fill the time.” 

The two of you continue to make mundane conversation until you spot what had to be the most beautiful necklace you had ever seen. You were far too blinded to even notice you had stopped walking, catching the attention of the prince who turned to see what you were looking at. “Its gorgeous.” you walk closer and smile at the shopkeeper who greeted the two of you. “Eyes stuck on the necklace huh?” She takes it from the case and allows you to hold it, admiring it closer. “Are you interested?” you shake your head and place it back down. “I could never afford such a thing.” Despite how beautiful the necklace was you could tell by the huge gem in the middle of it the necklace had to cost a fortune. “How much is it?” jacaerys voice cuts in behind you stepping close to the stand with his sack of coins in his hands. “Jacaerys you cannot be serious.”  The shopkeeper is more than happy to take the gold off his hands and hand the necklace to him. The two of you step away though you do not tackle his arm when it is not offered to you. Finally stopping once you feel as though the two of you are not in the public eye “Turn around.” “Jacaerys I cannot accept this.” “turn around and allow me to put it on you y/n.’ 

In defeat you turn away from him and his hands glide easily around your neck, lingerie touches on your collarbone and exposed skins feels more intimate than anything you've ever felt as you can feel his breath on the side of your neck. “You should not have just bought it.” your words are quiet as you can finally find it in you to speak and he lays his head on your shoulder and takes a deep breath. “It is nothing. I will give you anything you wish.” you selfishly allow yourself to stand there with him for a moment with your eyes closed. His hands had fallen down to your forearms and held you and you could feel the cold metal of your new necklace against your burning skin. 

You frown as he steps away from you and you turn back towards him. His eyes were not staring directly into yours but instead were locked onto your lips. He takes a step closer to you and you let him. You let him lean down and even close your eyes eagerly awaiting him-

“My prince.!” he freezes and sharply pulls away from you and whips around to the guard who had come over. “What is it?” if you had thought he sounded irritated earlier that would be nothing compared to the venom that laced his voice now. What you don't see is the angry look on his face and his eye twitching from how quickly annoyed he had become. “The hunt my prince,,” the guard trails off and his eyes quickly land onto you which you promptly turn away from him and stare at the ground as you kick the dirt beneath you. “I am so sorry my prince but the hunt is about to start.” You can hear the prince tsk before he shoos the guard away saying he will be there shortly. He grabs your arm and spins you to look at him, “i wouldn't want to keep you jacaerys,,,” he smiles and shakes his head at you. “You should want to keep me y/n.” you turn your head away from him causing him to laugh. “I shall see you, I promise.” as you watch him leave you bring your hands up to your cheeks and feel them burning against your skin. The prince had certainly charmed you.

--

Taglist <3 (feel free to ask to be added !!)

@alexa554 @demedidnothingwrong @blurpleuni-squid

[n0tamused]

Heyyyy so im feeling evil and thinking of some sort of reader x blade x jingyuan where blade and reader like each other but jingyuan likes reader and it's this sad painful dramatic thing where jingyuan has to let reader be happy because happiness for her is with blade not with him

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. A Haunted House‧₊˚𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ

A/n: I hope you like this you... youu!! (pointed finger at you emoji) Tbh I wish I could write concrete chapters for these things, but I don't hav the time.. Maybe one day I'll something long/multi-chapter. I love long angst and build up aaa

Content: Angst, Jing Yuan reminiscing about you, how he watched you and Blade grow closer together, remembering how he could never bring himself to stand between you and the person your heart called out for; unrequited love, no comfort

Words: 1490

Ko-Fi

Ages have come and gone with the turns of every amber era, each one feeling slower than the last and bringing by joys and sorrows uncounted. Jing Yuan had read too many words, tested his tongue with various titles and courtesies, yet the words he was attempting to read now tasted like ashes and looked like broken ripples. He found himself losing focus as of late, much more frequently and he could not blame the habit onto his usual sleepiness or the duty of a General that weighed across his shoulders. The papers before him were the reports of his fellow subordinates, Cloud Knights, about their recent investigation. He had read the same paragraph multiple times and found himself more disappointed than the last when the words did not seem to be written in his language. 

His thoughts were plagued by you. To anyone else in his shoes such a notion would bring shame to the General - this wise and old figure who has blooded his weapon and led his ship to prosperity, but he breaks at the notion of a missing warmth and imagined what-could-have-beens. But that small world of memories and dreams is all that was able to comfort him these days, it helped him wake up in the morning when it stabbed through his chest and prevented him from further sleep, all with a sad smile on his lip. What it could have been, if you had your heart for him and not Blade.

It was the late evening when he left the confines of the Seat of Divine Foresight, fresh air filling his lungs. The new assistant that was hired to tend his office greeted him on his way out and he bid her farewell with a gentle smile, although he could hardly call her new at this point, she had been around for almost a century, yet it made little difference to him. Little things meant little, they made him sad and made him lose sleep. Ever since the stellaron had been sealed away he could not stop thinking about the disaster. His mind’s eye drifted to the image of your face when he told you the news, always preferring to tell you these kinds of things in person. He told you to keep your guard up and remain close to your residence if you had no other pressing matters in terms of your work - but the image that floated forward more often than not was the way you left.

His easy smile traded places on his face for a look much more solemn when the roof of his residence loomed over his head, heavy and cold. 

“Hello, Mimi..” he bent down and extended his hand to the white feline as it came up to him, pushing its head against his hand in a strong greeting before making figure eights around and through his legs. At times like these, Jing Yuan felt as if this little creature alone harbored love towards him or took him into consideration, be it when she licked his face to wake him in the mornings or when she didn’t mind when he scratched her ears when she brought him a dead mouse as a trophy for him. A show off, this little one is. Sighing, he carefully stepped from her and took off his boots, placing them back into place.

Moving further inside he glimpsed the darkening sky outside, for a moment wondering if some of his more sensitive plants could use some more watering. He spots the low hanging leaves of the more dramatic sort of his plants. It was watered more than any other plant in his care, yet it curled its leaves and blooms in on itself, drooping from its clay pot, asking for another gallon of water.  

There are letters on the table, he had received them and read them that same morning. The letters themselves looked like they had gone through the disaster, with crumbled paper and torn edges, but Jing Yuan could recognize your handwriting anywhere, even in its most unshapely of forms. The envelopes are open neatly, yet torn at the edges where he couldn’t keep himself from ripping it open, his patience bending in the way of his gut-wrenching curiosity. Every step he takes towards the low table makes his feet feel heavy as lead, agonizing, slow, too heavy to bear, but the General has been through many trials, and none felt as painfully rewarding as this one.

In the corners of his eye he sees a different image than the dull walls of his empty home, he sees fragmented images of better days.

You’re sitting next to him and there are drinks on the table instead of letters. Blade- no, Yingxing is sitting across from you, lifting his cup of rice wine up into the air and towards yours. Baiheng is there too, exclaiming how they were going on with the toasts without her. There is one other, but Jing Yuan wishes not to remember. All hands join together making the porcelain cups clink and sing. 

Yingxing looked less gloomy, less reserved, he looked a century younger with the smile he wore on his face and the faint flush on his cheeks which he styled to perfection after a few drinks had settled in his gut, his eyes fixed on you. Your hands suddenly slap Jing Yuan on the shoulder, a playful act, it barely hurt but he swayed as if the impact had him reeling - you scolded him for not paying attention to you when you asked him something. What was it that you asked? A blessing? For what? Why his? There is a ring hanging on a necklace around that pretty neck of yours - only it wasn’t something he gifted you. Yingxing ,for once, used his skill for something other than weapons. He remembers your squeals of joy when you came over to show it to him. 

It was fine steel, an elegant band of rippling black across it, a red crystal on the top embraced by thorny ivy. It was a bold ring, a rather big ring, and the work of it showed that its master did not specialize in jewelry making - but that did not make it any less special or any less beautiful.

He remembers your joy more than the ring, your flushed cheeks and how you were nearly out of breath by the end of the conversation. Your face is fading, he realizes.

Yingxing is what he sees next in his mind’s eye in his later years, wrinkles decorating the corners of his eyes and the corners of his mouth, leaving permanent reminders of his joyous life. He asks Jing Yuan to relay something to you, a velvet box with a metal handle to clasp it shut through a loop. He wonders why he can’t give it to you himself, why task him with such a thing? But he doesn’t refuse. The memory doesn’t end there, but Jing Yuan can’t make himself remember more of it. The doubt, the hurt, the betrayal..

The mirage slips by like indents in the sand which the waves lap away. Another memory takes place. It is just you and him. There are words unspoken. You look older with the weariness in your eyes, and lean forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder, but you don’t seem to dare to press yourself any closer to him. This one is not a recent memory, and in hindsight Jing  Yuan wonders if you were trying to apologize to him then, in advance. Did you know things would turn out this way? Did you know he’d let you slip from his grasp like nothing ever existed between the two of you? He let you go, knowing you wouldn’t return to him, yet it hurt. You weren’t his. 

He deserved to know you were alright, he deserved to know the truth of it, deserved to be told not to hope - that’s what all those letters told him, what you said in woven careful words, and he can swear there are dried tear stains on the paper. Were those from you or from him?

“Keep her safe”, he whispered, frowning as the house around him grew gray. Lan, keep her safe. Blade - don’t you dare hurt her. It wasn’t a threat, it was a plea. 

He thought of sending you a response back, it was what kept him occupied the entire day besides his ghosts and your fading scent. Perhaps he shouldn’t - the letters would not reach you, and even if they did they would consist of his words telling you how he wished you all the best, wishing you safe travels through the stars - he could never will himself to hurt you, by words or actions. Sorrowful words would do him nothing, and they wouldn’t return you to him either. 

Jing Yuan decides to not write anything back. 

“(Y/n).. Stay safe. Stay happy..”

Dividers at the top: heavenlayt

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[floorbe]

"oh. oh" w Raphael

Raphael x GN!Reader (implied Tav/Durge but eh)

ya idk this is just raphael (bg3) realizing that his feelings for u aren't as objective as he thought they were. also how r yall getting fancy fonts on here

The first time he saw you, he knew exactly the type of person you were.

Another mindlessly optimistic “hero”, hellsbent on helping everyone around you, even at the cost of yourself.

It was perfect, really. He’d seen your type before— centuries of heroes had come to his door, his House of Hope, in a desperate bid to save those around themselves. Every hero that had come flocking to his door (hells, even those who didn't) were all the same: desperate, a comical attempt at a sliver of the hope he knew would never prosper. Heroes were born to die just as the world was made to spin.

Had Raphael not seen the Hells themselves and the souls within it he would certainly muse on reincarnation- surely not that many souls were that idiotic? Throwing themselves into the flames at the barest hint of someone in danger?

But he'd seen more of your type than he could imagine at his age. The chances of you turning up successful were slim to none- even with that damned prism shielding you.

He knew you. Your fierce hope that seemed to blind everyone around you- you turned hearts, and if he didn't have Hope chained in his damned basement, he'd question whether you had taken up the mantle. Still, you were the same as everyone else- centuries of life told Raphael this. So when you passed on his deal the first time around, he knew you’d be back. They always came back, it just took a bit of time.

He just had to wait. And if Raphael was anything, it was patient. He’d been waiting for centuries, what’s a few more mortal weeks? Months? A blink of the eye.

~

The first stirring that concerned him was when he was with Mol, sat comfortably across from each other. When you and your team had sauntered up, he'd felt eager at the chance to poke at you and your companions- rile you all up.

The words died in his mouth as he glanced up at you with practiced nonchalance only to catch your expression. The corner of your mouth quirked up- twitching in your attempt to hide it lest it reveal the less than innocent gleam in your eyes.

This was your plotting face, one you commonly had before causing some sort of mischief- minuscule as cheating at a game or large as attempting to pickpocket a telepathic God. Truly, you were so amusing to-

Pause.

His brows furrow as he absently follows your movement to whisper in Mol's ear.

When had he started to notice how your smile looked? Not only looked, but how it specifically twitched with each different scenario?

He brushes it off as being thorough. He's a Devil, certainly he's going to be able to read expressions. It's tactic. Manipulation. Nothing more.

He ignores the pull at the corner of his lip tempting him into an amused smirk when Mol eagerly makes the next move- reversing the game. How clever of you.

Not as clever as him, but clever nonetheless.

~

Next he found himself lingering around the entrance to the mausoleum long before he knew you'd get there. He was always early, of course, but you were still dealing with the tollhouse, for gods sake! No, he reasons, he's just a bit impatient is all. He's so close to getting you to agree to his deal, especially with your painfully weeping heart for Astarion's need for information. This will be a good way to soften you up for the real deal, he thinks.

Yes, certainly, that's why he's been rehearsing his poem for the last hour. Certainly. He has to be perfect after all- for you to... accept his deal.

~

Haarlep has been giving him that insufferable smirk all week long.

("You do realize it's technically your smirk-?" Haarlep is always quickly silenced by a glare and a dim flame blooming in Raphael's palm.)

He admits, he's been a bit more wound up than usual, but he doesn't see what that has to do with the incubus.

"You've been distracted," Haarlep purrs into Raphael's ear, trailing a pointed claw down Raphael's outfit, "You don't seem very interested in... well, yourself."

Raphael is quiet. His scribbling slows to a halt in his journal, and it's only with this pause that he realizes how messy his handwriting had become. Haarlep seems to realize the same, for he leans over Raphael's shoulder in sudden intrigue at the sprawled thoughts.

Raphael slams the book shut as soon as he realizes, with a stab of anger into his chest, that most of his pages recently have involved you in some way. How you faced off that shadow, how you're faring within the more darkly cursed lands, how you're faring against his enemy trapped deep within that mausoleum...

"...My, my. The fox has left its hiding place," Haarlep murmurs, resting their chin on Raphael's shoulder. Raphael can practically feel the smug grin coming off his mirror form- frustration boiling in his gut as he shoves Haarlep off.

Haarlep lets out a delighted laugh as they back up, "My, the fox really is invested in his prey this time, isn't he?"

Raphael tenses at the words, already feeling his temper flare at the rare vulnerability that's been forced from him. But of course, it's never quite enough for Haarlep. They always have to push.

"I wonder..." Haarlep begins, a discernible pout revealed in their tone as they drape themselves over Raphael's back, "I wonder what that little mouse tastes like, don't you?"

The comment snaps something in Raphael, flinging Haarlep back with a flurry of his arm, engulfed in flame. Haarlep lets out a yell as they stumble back, only for their expression to twist back into that smug grin as they retreat from the room.

"Let's hope little mouse makes it back from your mousetrap, then," Haarlep's voice echoes before they blip out of the room.

Raphael takes a long moment, chest pushing out in his attempt at a deep breath. His knuckles are blanched from gripping his pen so tightly, and he releases it with a growl. He doesn't care for you, he just wants you back alive to convince you into his deal! For his benefit! Hells, all of his journal entries regarding you are about how to manipulate you and those idiotic companions of yours, not-...!

He lets out an angered groan, nearly tearing the paper from his notebook to flip back a few pages. He can't believe he's actually checking, but the image of Haarlep's smug tone has him itching to prove the incubus wrong.

However, as he skims back over his writings, he detects the unfathomable tone of... is that worry seeping through his words? He combs through the page again and again, the furrow of his eyebrows deepening with each word he hisses under his breath.

Raphael had always been able to count on his words, if nothing else. Splendid liar as he is, lies go nowhere when not presented properly. Stories need to be twisted, hearts swayed, tears summoned- his strength lays in his wordplay and it's something he takes an immense amount of pride in.

So why do his entries seem more focused on the prospect of you returning to him rather than scripting out what he'll say when you do? When had his mind shifted from tossing you aside to wondering when you'll be back? If you'll be back?

That thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth. If you'll be back. The foe he sent you after isn't known for his mercy. What if you didn't make it? Didn't come crawling back to Raphael with that infuriating smug look you get when you know you're right-

For a split second, he feels regret at tasking you to kill such a powerful enemy. As soon as the feeling prickles in his gut it's replaced by a searing irritation. He banishes the thought from his mind in an instant, disgust curling up his abdomen and making his head spin. He didn't care, he didn't. He was worried from a business standpoint... he saw how fun you made manipulating you, curiosity on how you'll end, nothing more.

Still.

When was the last time he’s felt anything akin to concern for anyone but himself? Even in his clients he only saw opportunity: to punish them for failure, to get what he wants, to sate his curiosity to where this adventure will go... To suddenly feel a prick of care for anything beyond his own amusement was jarring. Even Haarlep wasn’t granted a modicum of his worry, and he shared his damned face— why you?

He’s met countless heroes, adventurers, nobles, and nigh none warrant his concern. His attention. No one warrants the quiver in his quill. You aren’t special.

Mm, but how you are.

That thought concerns him almost as much as you do.

[aboutdragons]

Marq's Guide to [ttad's] Valyrian Fourteen

DISCLAIMER START

This depiction of the Fourteen Flames of Valyria has been tailored exclusively for my fanfiction, the thing about dragons, and it represents them as they appear in that story as characters with speaking roles. It is by no mean a canonical or a mainstream version of them.

This is a work of fiction. The clothing of the characters is vaguely inspired by a wide array of traditional fashions of East Asia Continent, but it is not them, nor meant to represent them. Creative liberties have been taken, and inaccuracies and embellishments will follow. I’m no expert, no historical reconstructor, just a person with a tablet and an idea; I saw pretty things and became inspired by them, and that is as far as it goes.

Additionally; these are fictional lizard people. They're not even mammals, and they're in no way supposed to represent any human ethnic group.

A Song of Ice and Fire and all associated published works, including the concept of the Valyrian Pantheon, belong to GRRM.

The concept of the appearances of the Valyrian Pantheon showcased below belongs to me. Nobody but me is allowed to use it without permission. 

Contains spoilers for the thing about dragons and its worldbuilding.

(You may ask for permission to use my version of them if it compels you.)

(You may not use or repost my art without explicit permission.)

DISCLAIMER END

[a little legend, full arts, and domains under the cut]

They Of Many Names

The Fourteen Blasphemers

Devourers of Divinity

Ancient Relics of a Bygone Era

Once upon a time, long long ago when the lands were one and mountains were seas and seas were mountains, there lived a race of people under the protective purview of their serpent-god so massive and unfathomable it could wrap twice around the world and bite its own tail. The people were wise and prosperous in their cities of shining black stone, commanding magic and science with equal skill in equal measure.

And then a star fell, and shattered killing their serpent-god and its divine body fell from the sky onto the cities of the black stone along the shattered star. The catastrophic impact killed millions; the aftermath killed more as the sun was blacked out by the smoke and ash and the vegetation and animals and people began their great dying.

And then the star awoke, shattered but alive and wicked and incomprehensible, and its only goal was to consume all semblance of life.

The people, desperate and dying and acutely aware of the impending totality of their doom, turned to the gravest heresy, the foulest blasphemy in one last bid of survival; they imbibed the fallen flesh of their serpent-god, took what power festered in its divine corpse.

It changed them.

Most who committed this sin died; few lived, and soon they were the very last of their kind. Dozens, of what was once billions, extinct in a blink.

And they fought that star that fell, shattered by their serpent-god into a thousand-and-one shards, and made mortal with it. And they fell, but so did it, until only the mightiest on each side were left. And the shattered star, that wicked, hungry interloper--it ran. And it burrowed deep, deep into the ground, underneath the mountains and seas where none could reach. And there it slumbered, awaiting its chance to once more wake and mindlessly devour.

There were fourteen of them left, those sinners. Battered and lost and all alone, their species extinct, their god dead, their world gone. And they, too, slumbered and recovered for years and centuries and millennia and eons; and the continents shifted, and land recovered, and new life grew like the mountains around them, and the world they knew was truly forever gone.

And in time they were found, by accident or providence, and the sinners became gods, their past ignored and forgotten in favour of worship of their heretical power.

None remember the scalefolk anymore. Gone is their wisdom and the world could never recover its magic enough to match their mundane use of it. Their black cities lost under mountains and in the darkest crevices of the world, the great lizards they tamed and commanded gone with them.

There’s a new people now. They inherited this planet bereft of it’s protector serpent-god and most its magic, and all of its impending doom. But they’re hardy, determined folk, and the ancient relics of a long-forgotten sin never quite left. They lay in wait, dormant yet aware, gathering power for the one final hunt.

And then they, too, will go, for even gods die. For the sake of these new people and their future, marred by the catastrophe of the past who grew bereft of divine protection, orphaned in the vastness of space, yet hardy enough to rekindle the magicks most ancient and make them their own.

Balerion

God of Death

Also: Souls, Afterlife, Decay, Funerary Rites

Younger brother of Vhagar, older brother of Morghul, godson of Meleys. A somber yet gentle heart hides under his corpselike visage, for he is Death; foe to some, friend to others, yet inevitable to all.

Vhagar

Goddess of War

Also: Violence, Conquest, Tactics, Peace, Martial Arts

Older sister of Balerion and Morghul, goddaughter of Meleys, wife of Vermithor. The mightiest of gods, unyielding and stubborn, slow to anger and wise in the face of it.

Morghul

God of Darkness

Also: Shadows, Secrecy, Eclipse, Politics, Assassins

Younger brother to Vhagar and Balerion, he who treads in shadows and trades in whispers. Forever content to remain overlooked as he continues trading in secrets and conspiracies.

Meleys

Goddess of Blood

Also: Childbirth, Pregnancy, Motherhood, Life, Magic

Godmother of Vhagar, Balerion, and Morghul, the queen of the gods; the witch of blood, the mother of all. It's easy to forget the visceral horror of her power in the face of her nurturing kindness.

Vermithor

God of Prosperity

Also: Earth, Precious Gems and Metals, Commerce, Trade, Eloquence

Husband of Vhagar, lover of luxuries, trader of goods. With a silver tongue and a golden touch he is said to bring prosperity to anyone he bestows the tiniest morsel of attention on.

Vermax

God of Justice

Also: Law, Order, Wisdom, Oaths

Both fluid and inflexible, they are a god of contradictions. Of justice without law and wisdom without oaths; for they understand the order of things, that one may make the other, but never in reverse.

Arrax

God of Knowledge

Also: Medicine, Diseases, Poisons, Learning

The Pale Serpent bereft of the crown of horns of his kin, the last true scion of the serpent-god. He before whom no illness nor poison may retain its mystical secrecy.

Tyraxes

Goddess of Flowers

Also: Spring, Nature, Growth, Rebirth, Chaos, Visions, Madness

The willing sacrifice, imbibing a piece of the Waytree and paying with her very mind for a chance of tomorrow; and though the fairest flower became corrupted, her wish was nonetheless granted.

Tessarion

God of the Sky

Also: Art, Music, Wind, Birds, Freedom, Revolution

A creature of freedom of beauty, both flighty and incredibly steadfast in their convictions. A lover of all beauty, intolerant of oppression, an inspiring force for the deepest of desires.

Shrykos

God of Journeys

Also: Doors, Keys, Travels, Adventures, Transitions, Change

Change is necessary, stagnation, no matter how comfortable, brings doom. And they are willing to take any risk necessary to push the causality ever so slightly off its trajectory in hope of something better.

Meraxes

Goddess of the Moon

Also: Tides, Seafoam, Fish Migrations

Older twin sister of Caraxes, wife of Syrax. The calm before the storm and the pragmatic face of the moon and sea both, who leads sailors forward with calm seas and the grace of her cold light.

Caraxes

God of the Sea

Also: Salt, Reefs, Seastorms, Sealife

Younger twin brother of Meraxes, the storm after the calm, the violent unpredictability of the sea and its unbridled beauty. One thing is known; he shall not suffer any who'd limit him.

Syrax

Goddess of the Sun

Also: Rituals, Festivities, Celebrations, Alcohol, Daytime

Wife of Meraxes. The warmth of the sun, the safety of the daylight, the joy of celebration, yet she is who brings the warning, and the holy reverence of all rites and bonds forged in flame.

Gaelithox

God of Fire

Also: Heat, Volcanoes, Metallurgy, Forging, Smithing, Glass

The second mightiest of all gods; the dragonmaker who found a way to bestow the most ancient magicks of living fire and blood unto mortals by forging flesh and magic into living shape that became known as dragons.

Which one do you like the most? If you have any questions/thoughts don't hesitate to share them.

(I'll post it on other platforms soon enough)

[theroyalhouseofwindenburg]

A Realm Divided

In the months following Margaery’s passing, the winds of change swept through the realm. A ship from Tartosa arrived, sent to retrieve Empress Mary and Princess Augusta and bring them back to their homeland. As the day of departure drew near, the quay of Windenburg Harbor became a hub of activity, with crowds of people gathering to bid farewell. Servants bustled about, preparing the cargo for the voyage, while the air was thick with a mix of melancholy and anticipation.

Augusta, poised on the brink of departure, offered a soft smile, her eyes reflecting a hint of nostalgia. “Windenburg will always be a part of me. But my path leads elsewhere now,” she said, her voice laced with both resolve and a touch of sadness.

King Edward, his gaze burdened with concern, responded, “I worry about what lies ahead. This kingdom, this land, is ever on the brink of something unexpected.”

Augusta met his eyes, her tone gentle but firm. “You’ve always been cautious, Edward. It’s why you’re a good king. But remember, you can’t control everything. Sometimes, you have to let the tide carry you where it will.”

Edward nodded thoughtfully, the weight of her words sinking in. “I know. It’s just that with you gone, it feels like one more anchor is being lifted. Mary… she will need you in Tartosa. But I’ll miss having you near.”

Augusta reached out, her voice filled with affection. “And I will miss you, brother. But you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. Windenburg is in good hands.”

As the final words hung in the air, King Edward and Augusta embraced, the weight of their shared past and uncertain futures pressing close. Edward felt a pang of longing, but he was comforted by the warmth of his sister’s presence.

“We’ll meet again one day, won’t we?” Edward whispered, his voice tinged with both hope and reluctance.

Augusta smiled against his shoulder, holding him just a bit tighter. “Of course we will,” she replied softly, her words a quiet promise. “Nothing will keep us apart for long.”

In that moment, the world outside their embrace faded away, leaving only the solace they found in each other’s presence. As Augusta held her brother close, her smile lingered, a small yet unwavering beacon of the bond they would always share, no matter the distance.

Edward, Cordelia, and Prince Alvin stood on the beach, watching as the ship bearing Augusta and Mary slipped further from the shore. The vessel’s departure was more than just a farewell; it was a stark reminder of Edward’s pressing need to marry. With Augusta and Mary departing for Tartosa and Margaery now resting under Westsimster Abbey, his household had shrunk dramatically. The emptiness of the beach mirrored the hollow space left in his life, and Edward's thoughts turned grimly to the future. The necessity of finding a new companion to fill the void left by those he had lost weighed heavily on his mind.

As the years moved forward, Windenburg flourished under King Edward’s reign. The kingdom enjoyed a rare period of peace and prosperity, bolstered by strong alliances with Tartosa and Bagley. Edward’s reign saw a golden age of construction and growth. The city's skyline, once sparse, now boasted a profusion of buildings, homes, and churches, thanks to the kingdom’s immense wealth. Taxes were lowered, bringing contentment to the populace, who reveled in the stability and progress of their land.

The alliance with Bagley was fortified by mutual interests, and when Bagley Castle burned down in 1353, Edward generously supported the construction of Bagley Hall. The new royal residence was a marvel of architecture, surpassing its predecessor in grandeur and functionality. Within its walls, King Edward and King Henry of Bagley sealed their alliance with a treaty, their handshake marking the pact with both ceremony and finality.

Yet, as prosperity reigned throughout most of Windenburg, shadows loomed over Britechester Castle. In the spring of 1356, the death of Benedict, Duke of Britechester, cast a pall over the court. Princess Jane, now widowed for the second time, mourned her loss while preparing to face a new chapter. As the Chaplain’s prayers echoed through the halls, Benedict and Jane’s eldest son Richard, at just sixteen, grappled with the daunting responsibilities of his new title. The weight of leadership fell heavily on his young shoulders.

In the wake of Benedict’s death, Princess Jane and her youngest son, Robert, were conveyed to Windenburg Castle. Jane, enveloped in mourning black, felt as if the hand of fate was unrelenting in its cruelty. Her return to court was marked by a deep sense of foreboding Not long after, the court welcomed the Arnold family, returning after years of controversy surrounding Lady Dorthea’s death. Her younger brother, Philip, was bestowed the title of Count of Westfield in a grand public ceremony. Amid the festivities, Edward’s gaze was drawn to Adelaide, Philip’s eighteen year old granddaughter. Her striking beauty and spirited demeanor captivated him instantly.

As summer unfolded, Edward and Adelaide’s connection deepened. Their days were spent exploring the lush gardens of Windenburg Castle and riding horseback along moonlit shores. Their bond grew as they discovered shared passions and a profound emotional connection. For Edward, Adelaide became a beacon of joy and light, a match to his own soul in a world that had seen its share of darkness.

However, tranquility was soon shattered by turmoil in Bagley. In 1358, Lord Roderic Henford, once a trusted advisor to King Henry, ignited a rebellion against his sovereign. The insurrection, swift and brutal, caught Henry’s forces off guard, plunging the realm into chaos. Henford’s army executed surprise attacks on key positions, leaving widespread devastation in their wake.

Bagley's countryside became a relentless battleground, with Henford’s forces encircling the land and laying siege with ferocious determination. The once thriving kingdom was thrown into a state of upheaval, as Henford’s rebellion not only threatened the stability of Bagley but also jeopardized the broader alliances that had ensured peace for Windenburg. The conflict raged on, with heavy casualties on both sides, and the outcome teetered precariously.

At Windenburg Castle, King Edward convened an urgent council to address the crisis. King Henry sat beside him, visibly at a loss and burdened by the weight of his faltering kingdom. Edward, his brow furrowed with concern, offered his counsel, "You must fortify your defenses and seek out potential allies who can shift the balance of power. Strength and unity are your greatest weapons now."

Despite his attempts to provide guidance and support, Edward's words seemed to barely touch the depth of Henry's despair. The rebellion underscored how quickly peace could unravel, casting a long shadow over their hard-won stability. As the council session continued, Henry's silence became a palpable presence in the room, his eyes distant and lost in the weight of the crisis.

As the discussion wound down, Edward glanced at Henry, hoping for some sign of resolution or hope. Instead, he was met with the sight of him staring blankly at the council table, his grief so profound that it seemed to drown out any possibility of immediate action. The weight of their shared predicament pressed heavily on both of them.

[sunspearesque]

‘Tis You, My Great Love

Summary: I've been betrothed to fear since the mists of memory, “the bride of despair,” they named me. And there, by the shore, you found me… sorrow veiling my face, and wounds blooming like tulips in my hands. But lo, you, my great love, now stand, lifting the veil and bidding my fears depart with each tender kiss. “Stay,” I say, “stay for all eternity.”

A/N: hello hello beautiful friends!!! i wrote this piece while feeling extremely sentimental and sappy after a conversation about motherhood with my best friend.. i was contemplating motherhood, marriage, and intimacy in general, but then tried to imagine how that would translate to Nala's and Oberyn's relationship.. so, this fic is mainly fluff with a sprinkle of smut :3 and lots of poetic dreams… hope you enjoy it! <3

Pairing: Oberyn Martell × OFC from WoV

Rating: E (18+ only)

Content: established relationship (marriage); talks of motherhood; fear of loss and abandonment; fear of motherhood; talks of dreams; pregnancy; childbirth; fluff on steroids with a sprinkle of smut; dad!oberyn (my favorite oberyn to write); brief p in v sex; oral (m!receiving); breeding kink

WC: 2.6K

Read on AO3 • moodboard

“Love me so strongly that the echoes come to me here, at night, in the hours of insomnia, where I am waiting for you. I kiss you, I kiss you madly.” — Albert Camus to Maria Casares, Correspondence, January 9, 1950

His breath, slow and warm, caressed her neck as he nestled closer. His arms, like bands of fire, encircled her soft belly. With a grip as tight as the grasp of a man fearing the loss of paradise slipping through his fingers, he held her close, as if she might vanish like the elusive dream of Eden he chased in his sleep. Just when he thought he could taste its waters, they turned to fire, scorching his throat and consuming him in flames, jolting him awake from his slumber. Yet now, she mused, he sleeps peacefully.

She traced her finger over the scar adorning his shoulder, much like the marks she bore on her own body from bearing their son—for when love leaves its mark upon us, not even the shadow of fear can erase it.

Her fingers deftly threaded through his raven locks, prompting a soft hum from him as she pressed a tender kiss upon his brow. Never before had she known such serenity, as sleep gently stole her away in his arms.

—

The sun, basking in its warm and inviting glow, reached its luminous tendrils into the chambers of their castle. The soft sounds of nature at dawn whispered promises of new beginnings. These beginnings ushered in healing and prosperity to souls who had yearned for the clasp of death for so long, forgetting how to revel in life's joys and surrender to its tender embrace.

Life in Dorne, akin to a nurturing mother, a goddess, a woman… the dunes of sand beneath their calloused feet, and the blazing sun in the sky, stood as an impregnable fortress of strength akin to Nymeria, their burning star. She was the mother of both land and people, her warmth forging indomitable resolve within her children. She is the sun—their sun blazing fiercely, instilling in them an unyielding grit against any rival, yet within their hearts lay a gentle warmth that embraced love as steadfastly as a sacred oath.

And like the sun and the earth and Nymeria, Nala harbored the urges of motherhood within her, which was a concept that she held in reverence, yet it also stirred a deep sense of dread within her. She longed for the life burgeoning deep inside of her, for a part of herself to wander this realm and embrace life under her vigilant care and unwavering devotion. However, she couldn't shake the haunting memory of how motherhood had claimed her own mother's life, how she harbored guilt for the tragic fate her mother endured.

If only I hadn't been, she might have fled the castle and escaped her dire end...

This lingering wound within her soul was the sole reason she had shunned the idea of bearing children until she met him.

He, adorned in all his splendor, tended to her wounded soul the very instant he professed his love to her, at a time when he himself was most in need of solace. This bastion of a man, generous, gracious, and gallant, freely bestowed his love, protection, and tenderness, even amidst the shadows of his wrath and vengeance.

For you, my great love, I ache with an unbearable keenness, feeling the wounds within me slowly mend, sewn shut with the thread of your love—a needle of devotion stitching together my injured being. Though painful, it is an insatiable need, a piercing sting I have yearned for throughout the passing years. It closes the chasm within me, that gaping void where the winds of despair and sorrow once freely roamed, leaving me as naught but a specter, undeserving of love, joy, or autonomy.

Your love, my great love, is what ignited within me a hunger for life after an endless fast of fear—fear of loss and abandonment. Your love bestowed upon me the strength to embrace love once more, despite the inevitable sacrifices. Did you know that you visited me in my dreams? You kissed me with such tenderness and held me close. “I was adrift,” I told you, my voice laden with fear, “take me..” I whispered, “Take me with you.”

When she pledged herself to him in marriage, she knew she needed to fear no one beneath the gaze of Gods and men. With him by her side, no rivals could breach her defenses; even in death, his spirit would haunt any who dared to harm her through all Seven Hells and beyond.

You told me once, do you recall? As we strolled the shores, my steps were heavy with dread or joy, or perhaps it was the dread of the joy that awaited me. I struggle to remember the last time genuine happiness graced my soul before that day. When the sweet taste of happiness touched my sorrow-laden lips, I froze in place, wary that this cruel existence might snatch it away, as it so often does.

You whispered to me, my great love, your love with such fervor, you told me how it frightened you, unable to resist the pull of our inevitable fate. “How could I?” you pondered, “You are inescapable.” You told me that sorrow is the price of love; to shun one is to forsake the other. Yet, you vowed not to evade me, you kissed me and swore to me that you would not allow my love to elude your grasp.

You told me how I melt into your dreams, whisking you away in my embrace mere seconds before the phantom hands could encircle your throat. Those same hands, which once tormented you each night, wrenching you from slumber, now find themselves impotent against your newfound peace. You impute to me your salvation, though I doubted my own. You rekindled a dormant tenderness within me, long thought doused by the harshness of life. ‘tis you, my great love, who rescued me… It was not I who saved you, but you who saved me.

She recalled a day they spent amidst the Water Gardens, a few moons past:

Reclining upon the grass, the soothing melody of a nearby water fountain lulled her into a serene state of repose. The laughter of Dorea and Loreza filled her ears, joyfully engaged in play with their father. Nala shut her eyes, savoring this heartening moment with those she holds most dear.

“W–Wait, papa, wait,” Dorea uttered between pants, attempting to conceal her sweet giggles. “I heard Arianne say that you engage in battles,” she inquired, her small hand resting on her waist as she sought to extract the truth from him.

“Yes, I do,” Oberyn replied, seated on the grass, attempting to catch his breath after chasing them all morning. “Why would Arianne tell you that?” He narrowed his eyes at his daughter, intrigued by the smirk that widened before Loreza jumped on his back, encircling his neck and hanging from it, ambushing him. “Papa, fight!”

Nala opened her eyes to witness the victorious father, besieged by little hands and tiny feet, playfully striking his stomach and chest, surrounded by laughter that compelled him to yield, lying flat on his back.

Dorea brandished a stick of wood, pointing it at his face, and murmured, “Surrender!” with a broad, toothy grin. Loreza, seizing the opportunity, delivered a playful punch to his soft middle. “I surrender, my lady, I surrender!” he exclaimed with feigned fear and defeat, eliciting more giggles from Loreza. “Have mercy on this old man, my lady, please!” he continued, jesting while maintaining his scared demeanor.

“Loreza,” Dorea commanded with a stern expression, feigning seriousness, “this soldier will join our army,” attempting a deep, authoritative voice. At that moment, Oberyn stealthily swept them both from their feet and hoisted them onto his shoulders, prompting a chorus of screams and laughter. “You shall never trust your enemy, girls,” he declared, his voice playfully admonishing.

Her faith in his paternal prowess never wavered, evidenced by his eight resilient daughters. He showered them with love and fierceness to such an extent that Nala's own heart ached with longing to bear his child—a primal yearning that twisted within her.

Each time he lay with her, she offered fervent prayers to the Gods, beseeching them, “Grant this union fruitfulness, let it take, let life flourish abundantly within me.”

When the soft stirrings of life within her ignited a radiant glow from deep within, his love grew even more tender, gentle, and expansive; even greater than the swell of her stomach. She marveled at the dichotomy of this fierce and dreaded man seeping such tenderness. How could hands, once stained with the blood of his foes and weathered by battle, now caress her with such delicate care, as if she were the most delicate of petals?

“Tell me,” he panted as he thrust into her, “Tell me how much you love me, Nala.”

“I do,” she said, her words strained with pleasure, melding into a moan, “I do, my viper, I adore you.”

As she entered the throes of labor, he sat steadfastly behind her, his legs parted to rest on her sides supporting her back against his chest, his words of praise gently murmured into her ear. Amidst his curses at the Gods, he avidly wished to shoulder her pain, to bear it in her stead. 

When they were greeted by the piercing cries of the fruit of their love—a child, glorious and perfect in every way, red and squealing, a reflection of his father in demeanor, soul, and visage—she cradled him in her arms, while Oberyn enveloped them both in his protective embrace.

Their eyes locked upon the tiny, fragile form before them, and as a rare tear escaped his forbearing facade, she reached out to brush it from his cheek. With a tender whisper, she said, “Look, my love, he bears your likeness.”

She reclined upon her side, nursing their son at her breast, nestled between herself and Oberyn. His gaze lingered upon the tender scene, his eyes laden with unspoken emotions that he dared not voice, lest tears betray him.

Do you remember, my great love? Do you remember how the fear wilted, its head bowed in shame? The fear that once gripped me, releasing my hand as it gazed upon you with eyes filled with dread.

“Fret not,” you whispered to me while I sat in sorrow by your side. Though you lay in a deep slumber for days, your voice broke through the darkness just when I feared I might never hear it again. When all semblance of peace metamorphosed into a looming specter, jeering at me, taunting my joy and desperation. “Oh, you naive child,” it sneered with a voice steeped in bitterness. “I am no child,” I retorted, yet I felt the weight of my old fears returning. “You never learn,” it spat, before your voice shielded me from impending despair. You whispered, “Fret not,” and I believed you, my great love, as I always do.

And now look... Look at him... How can one lay bare their heart to the world, a heart with little hands and tiny feet, and not fret?

—

Gently opening her eyes, she sensed the chill of the empty space beside her—a void she cursed and despised. Rising slowly from her slumber, she beheld him: bare-chested, glorious, as beautiful as a man can be, cradling their son in his arms.

Their embrace enveloped them in warmth, their skins melding as one, while the soft cooing of their child resonated faintly in the chamber's silence. Amidst the peaceful atmosphere, punctuated only by the hushed footsteps of her husband and the tender sounds of their boy, her heart pounded within her chest like a Sand Steed galloping across the Dornish plains, threatening to burst forth. The love she felt surged within her, surpassing all expectations, growing fiercer, more profound—unbearable. It was a love that dissolved her fears like the northern snows beneath the scorching sun.

In the treasured instants shared with his children, Oberyn found solace in moments where the chaos of the world faded into oblivion. Each time they gathered around him, their youthful spirits ignited a spark of joy within him, particularly in those tender early years when they sought refuge in their father's arms. Yet, amidst this warmth, a pang of sorrow lingered as he gazed upon his son, his thoughts drifting to memories of his nephew Aegon, the son of his sweet sister Elia.

He couldn't help but imagine how Aegon might have flourished had fate been kinder to him or his sister or their mother. A gentle touch from Nala drew him back from his sorrowful reverie, and as he turned to meet her tender smile, he leaned in to press a soft kiss upon her lips, mindful not to disturb the slumbering child cradled in his embrace.

“Why did you not awaken me, my love?” Nala murmured, her gaze tenderly fixed upon their son.

“I wished for you to rest,” he replied softly, his eyes warm as they met hers, before he moved to lay their child gently in his crib, nestling him into the plush bedding.

Returning to their bed, he settled himself against the sturdy wooden frame, patting the mattress beside him, inviting her to join him. She approached, crawling between his legs, prompting a raised brow and a smirk from him. “And what might you be doing?” he inquired.

“I long to savor you,” she declared simply, positioned between his spread legs and deftly undoing his breeches.

“And your wounds, my love?” he gently reminded her. “You are not fully healed yet.”

“This will be my remedy,” she replied, her voice hoarse and tinged with sleep and yearning, almost on the edge of a whine.

She felt his cock swell and throb in her grasp, searing and already slick with desire. With gentle strokes of her hand, she evoked muffled groans from him, meeting his gaze as she whispered, “I love you beyond reckoning…”

Lowering her head to his glistening tip, she teased the slit with tiny licks, relishing every drop of his precum. His head fell back, a deep moan escaping his lips before she buried him in her mouth.

She swallowed him deeper and deeper until he was fully sheathed within her throat, his leg jerked beside her as she moved him in and out of her wet and wanting mouth. A low hum accompanied her fervent ministrations, her hand tenderly caressing his soft belly, a part of him she had adored over the years.

Pulling him from her drooling mouth to catch her breath, she panted between words, “If not for my wounds, I would not have wasted your seed anywhere but deep within my cunt,” she licked his sensitive tip, and he whimpered quietly, “taking me day and night… today and tomorrow and the day after, and spilling your seed within me over and over ‘til it takes,” she confessed before taking him again, squeezing him within her tight throat, his primal groans filling the air and filling her with an immense sense of pride at her actions.

She swallowed around him once, then twice, until she felt his warm, salty cum spurt into her eager throat, eliciting a guttural growl from him as he filled her up and came down from his climax. She withdrew his softened cock from her mouth, gathering the seeping cum from the corners of her lips before eagerly sucking her digit clean. Crawling up to lie atop him, she rested her head upon his heaving chest, pressing kisses to his golden skin. He enveloped her in his arms, holding her tightly, yearning to merge with her until they became one.

You, my great love, ‘tis you who will always reign until the end of times, in every lifetime, in every plane of existence.

[marinahavik]

a second version of Yumi for the fairy tale AU by @cheerleaderman

(first and second version of the drawing, I still need to scan the second drawing)

This second version of Yumi is based on a Japanese fairy tale called THE MAIDEN WITH THE WOODEN HELMET, I read this story for the first time when I was a child, and I really liked it.

Instead of drawing Yumi wearing a bowl or a helmet, I decided to draw her with an iron mask, inspired by the masks of the Amazons of Athena from the anime Saint Seiya.

the original story from this fairy tale is

In a little village in the country of Japan there lived long, long ago a man and his wife. For many years they were happy and prosperous, but bad times came, and at last nothing was left them but their daughter, who was as beautiful as the morning. The neighbours were very kind, and would have done anything they could to help their poor friends, but the old couple felt that since everything had changed they would rather go elsewhere, so one day they set off to bury themselves in the country, taking their daughter with them.

Now the mother and daughter had plenty to do in keeping the house clean and looking after the garden, but the man would sit for hours together gazing straight in front of him, and thinking of the riches that once were his. Each day he grew more and more wretched, till at length he took to his bed and never got up again.

His wife and daughter wept bitterly for his loss, and it was many months before they could take pleasure in anything. Then one morning the mother suddenly looked at the girl, and found that she had grown still more lovely than before. Once her heart would have been glad at the sight, but now that they two were alone in the world she feared some harm might come of it. So, like a good mother, she tried to teach her daughter all she knew, and to bring her up to be always busy, so that she would never have time to think about herself. And the girl was a good girl, and listened to all her mother’s lessons, and so the years passed away.

At last one wet spring the mother caught cold, and though in the beginning she did not pay much attention to it, she gradually grew more and more ill, and knew that she had not long to live. Then she called her daughter and told her that very soon she would be alone in the world; that she must take care of herself, as there would be no one to take care of her. And because it was more difficult for beautiful women to pass unheeded than for others, she bade her fetch a wooden helmet out of the next room, and put it on her head, and pull it low down over her brows, so that nearly the whole of her face should lie in its shadow. The girl did as she was bid, and her beauty was so hidden beneath the wooden cap, which covered up all her hair, that she might have gone through any crowd, and no one would have looked twice at her. And when she saw this the heart of the mother was at rest, and she lay back in her bed and died.

The girl wept for many days, but by-and-by she felt that, being alone in the world, she must go and get work, for she had only herself to depend upon. There was none to be got by staying where she was, so she made her clothes into a bundle, and walked over the hills till she reached the house of the man who owned the fields in that part of the country. And she took service with him and laboured for him early and late, and every night when she went to bed she was at peace, for she had not forgotten one thing that she had promised her mother; and, however hot the sun might be, she always kept the wooden helmet on her head, and the people gave her the nickname of Hatschihime.

In spite, however, of all her care the fame of her beauty spread abroad: many of the impudent young men that are always to be found in the world stole softly up behind her while she was at work, and tried to lift off the wooden helmet. But the girl would have nothing to say to them, and only bade them be off; then they began to talk to her, but she never answered them, and went on with what she was doing, though her wages were low and food not very plentiful. Still she could manage to live, and that was enough.

One day her master happened to pass through the field where she was working, and was struck by her industry and stopped to watch her. After a while he put one or two questions to her, and then led her into his house, and told her that henceforward her only duty should be to tend his sick wife. From this time the girl felt as if all her troubles were ended, but the worst of them was yet to come.

Not very long after Hatschihime had become maid to the sick woman, the eldest son of the house returned home from Kioto, where he had been studying all sorts of things. He was tired of the splendours of the town and its pleasures, and was glad enough to be back in the green country, among the peach-blossoms and sweet flowers. Strolling about in the early morning, he caught sight of the girl with the odd wooden helmet on her head, and immediately he went to his mother to ask who she was, and where she came from, and why she wore that strange thing over her face. His mother answered that it was a whim, and nobody could persuade her to lay it aside; whereat the young man laughed, but kept his thoughts to himself.

One hot day, however, he happened to be going towards home when he caught sight of his mother’s waiting maid kneeling by a little stream that flowed through the garden, splashing some water over her face. The helmet was pushed on one side, and as the youth stood watching from behind a tree he had a glimpse of the girl’s great beauty; and he determined that no one else should be his wife. But when he told his family of his resolve to marry her they were very angry, and made up all sorts of wicked stories about her. However, they might have spared themselves the trouble, as he knew it was only idle talk. ‘I have merely to remain firm,’ thought he, ‘and they will have to give in.’ It was such a good match for the girl that it never occurred to anyone that she would refuse the young man, but so it was. It would not be right, she felt, to make a quarrel in the house, and though in secret she wept bitterly, for a long while, nothing would make her change her mind. At length one night her mother appeared to her in a dream, and bade her marry the young man. So the next time he asked her—as he did nearly every day—to his surprise and joy she consented. The parents then saw they had better make the best of a bad business, and set about making the grand preparations suitable to the occasion. Of course the neighbours said a great many ill-natured things about the wooden helmet, but the bridegroom was too happy to care, and only laughed at them.

When everything was ready for the feast, and the bride was dressed in the most beautiful embroidered dress to be found in Japan, the maids took hold of the helmet to lift it off her head, so that they might do her hair in the latest fashion. But the helmet would not come, and the harder they pulled, the faster it seemed to be, till the poor girl yelled with pain. Hearing her cries the bridegroom ran in and soothed her, and declared that she should be married in the helmet, as she could not be married without. Then the ceremonies began, and the bridal pair sat together, and the cup of wine was brought them, out of which they had to drink. And when they had drunk it all, and the cup was empty, a wonderful thing happened. The helmet suddenly burst with a loud noise, and fell in pieces on the ground; and as they all turned to look they found the floor covered with precious stones which had fallen out of it. But the guests were less astonished at the brilliancy of the diamonds than at the beauty of the bride, which was beyond anything they had ever seen or heard of. The night was passed in singing and dancing, and then the bride and bridegroom went to their own house, where they lived till they died, and had many children, who were famous throughout Japan for their goodness and beauty.

In my version of the story, Yumi's family suffered an attack, in order to survive and take revenge, they separated and went into hiding, Yumi, along with her twin brothers, Seiji and Akemi, disguised themselves as servants and hid as new employees of a rich family, Yumi to hide her face began to wear an iron mask

Yumi ended up becoming friends with the young master of the mansion (Kalim) who decided that she and his best friend could be great friends and so introduced Jamil to Yumi.

The beginning was complicated (because of Jamil) but as time went by they both fell in love even though Jamil has never seen Yumi's face

One day Yumi's brothers completed their revenge and Yumi disappeared from the Al-Asim residence, Jamil was heartbroken, and felt betrayed and deceived, only for a few days later Yumi to return to the residence asking Jamil to go with her, since they were in love, she explained that she had to hide in the Al-Asim residence pretending to be a servant until her brothers completed their revenge, and now that she was done, she could return to her home, and wanted Jamil to go with her, it was at that moment that Yumi finally took off her mask, and asked Jamil to marry her, Jamil ended up accepting and they had their happy ending.

this was just a summary of my version of this story for the fairy tale AU, maybe I'll make a fanfic of it at some point

I hope you enjoyed it and see you next time

[hresvelged]

— as i cut through the moon and gaze at the sun.

"Turn to the next page. Page.. three."

"Alright, El. Just a few more for today," the sister says. "It's getting late. We can continue tomorrow, okay?" Her index finger hovers over the text as little El follows. She sits cross-legged on the warm ground. Flowers bloom of wonder and hope; prosperous futures and colorful paths. If she isn't careful, she will ruin one with her quick steps. That wouldn't do. Her legs sink into the soft grass below them, leaning into the other girl as she reads.

The moon says goodnight.

One.

Where did the moon go? She can't see it. Its sharp halt freezes time. She loses track of what day it is. Gray, cold walls seep isolation and fear. Every time she shuffles, silver clanks in her ears. No matter how tired she is, she cannot sleep. No matter how many sounds envelope her, she is always lonely.

The Goddess hides the moon.

Two.

"Did you hear? Lady Edelgard of the Adrestian Empire will be enrolling!"

She's heard it spoken that it is the goddess's blessing that allows many aspiring faces to study under the same roof. Edelgard von Hresvelg disagrees. 'The Goddess is not so kind as that.' She sits at the front of the Black Eagles classroom, head held high and focus forward. Edelgard listens intently as professors speak, absorbing all of their words as much as she can.

"Turn to page three," the professor says. She draws her eyes to the words, inching her finger towards the nearest quill and sheet of note paper.

Class concludes. She is the last one in the room as she holds her books up towards her chest. She oft wonders how others found their days— She hopes for their success and ever-growing skillsets. Edelgard observes both in and out of the classroom. A strong throw of the sword or vast, integral pursuits of magic all prove knowledge obtained with their own hands.

The sun says hello. It kisses her cheeks; hugs her scarred shoulders. Taps her head and touches her arms warmer than any flame nestled in the girl's cold body. For every moon that bids her farewell, there are rays greeting her in kind. Is it so selfish to hold onto it for a moment longer? To bathe her hand in friendship's waters than the burning ire of enemies? The road she treks is coated in crimson and sullies black boots in favor of footsteps never to be erased. Stars grant her solace but searing eyes in the darkness lurk under its light.

Never forget who gave you those flames. Never forget what you must do, no matter how much time passes.

She scoffs and shakes her head, squinting into the bright sky. Her path has been carved long ago. The road may have one clear ending but its means of getting there are hers alone to decide.

One more, perhaps. One more.

The moon waits for the sun.

Three.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Igor Bobic at HuffPost:

MILWAUKEE ― After the attempt on former President Donald Trump’s life over the weekend, Republicans and Democrats alike called on the country to turn down the political rhetoric and unite as Americans. It didn’t last long. On Monday morning, Trump railed against his criminal indictments, called the Jan. 6 insurrection a “hoax,” and accused Democrats of orchestrating all his legal troubles in a post on his social media site, Truth Social.

[...] And although speakers at the Republican National Convention in Milwaukee were more subdued than usual during the evening prime-time hours, calling for unity after the shooting, there were still notable attacks on Democrats and their policies. Sen. Ron Johnson (R-Wis.), for example, opened the slate of GOP speeches by attacking the “radical far-left agenda,” which he defined as a “fringe … that includes biological males competing against girls and the sexualization and indoctrination of our children.” He went on to call Democratic policies “a clear and present danger to our institutions, our values and our people,” drawing cheers from the audience. [...] “The current president is not capable of turning things around,” Sen. Katie Britt (R-Ala.) said on Monday. “His weakness is costing us our opportunity, our prosperity, our safety. Each diminshed. All in decline. Just like the man in the Oval Office.”

Attendees at the convention also saw a video montage displayed on TV screens showing Biden walking up the steps of Air Force One, the presidential plane, with a narrator concluding, “He can’t even walk up steps or put on his coat.” Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-Ga.), who posted on social media that “Democrats wanted this to happen” in regard to the Trump rally shooting by a 20-year-old registered Republican whose motive is not yet known, similarly gave a more toned-down speech at the GOP convention. But she, too, couldn’t hold entirely back, railing against “globalists,” attacking transgender people and immigrants, and decrying U.S. support for Ukraine in the face of Russian aggression. Republicans also gave North Carolina Lt. Gov. Mark Robinson a speaking slot at their convention, an eyebrow-raising decision given his long list of incendiary comments in recent years, including calling for making abortion illegal “for any reason,” mocking school shooting survivors, calling LGBTQ people “filth,” and appearing to endorse political violence in a speech last month.

The bid for unity at the RNC in the wake of the assassination attempt against Donald Trump went out the door the first night on the floor, as several speakers-- most notably Ron Johnson and MTG-- used their speeches to push for divisive culture war issues such as mocking President Biden’s cognitive decline and bashing trans people and Ukrainian aid.

[dasha-through-the-snow]

A big rant about the Russian opposition

Well, you said you wanted it, so here it is.

Be warned: this will be long, rambly and unfocused. But I will try to split it into several parts.

Where it all began. The 90s.

Following the collapse of the USSR, Russian opposition was left in a weird state. Big Soviet-era opposition figures like Yeltsin now held all the power, yet, at the same time, the government was full of ex-Soviet party members. See, ol' Boris didn't want to do a lustration. I don't have his exact motivations, but, if I was put at a gunpoint and forced to guess, it was because Russia, even without all the states that left was a BIGHUGE country and needed people who knew how it all worked. And all of them happened to be party apparatchicks.

Yeltsin also left the KGB eseentially untouched. This is not well-known, but KGB were actually supportive of the fall of the USSR. Now, late-Gorby KGB is not the same as KGB during Stalin or even Khruschev. They were de-fanged and forced under too much supervision. Which they didn't like. So they were allowed to change their name, had some reshuffling and re-emerged as FSB. Ostensibly, just there to fight crime and protect the state, no disappearing people allowed anymore.

This is important to understand as we go forward.

90s were, overall, a time of terrible, terrible poverty and unimaginably, unprecedented freedom in Russia. If you knew what to do and was willing to do it, you could become a millionaire overnight. If you didn't have a particuarly marketable set of skills or was just unwilling to adapt, you'd be on the brink of starvation. And that's me not even touching the organized and disorganized crime which was absolutely rampant.

Then there was the privatization. Essentially, Yegor Gaidar, the prime minister during Yeltsin's first term decided that the best course of action was to take this lumbering 70-yo communist system and crash it head-first into capitalism. It was even called "shock therapy".

Now, in hindisght, we can say that his policies very much saved Russia and lead to economic prosperity later on. But man, shit was HARD for regular people. Especially hordes of state workers.

His most infamous project, however, was the privatization. Essentially, since EVERYTHING in USSR was state-owned and we were moving towards a capitalist system, someone needed to become the owner of all this state property. Privatize it, so to say. Of course, regular people could privatize their cars and apartments, which most everyone did. But the big bucks were in all the factories and natural resource mines. And this was done in the most ass-backwards way possible. People with connections got to bid on very lucrative property in the dead of the night with only one announcement in the local newspaper nobody read. Shit like that.

Everyone disliked that.

This is how Russia became saddled with it's giant oligarchy class.

I promise all of this is relevant.

Another really important thing happened in the 90s: the 1996 election. Yeltsin wanted a second term and he REALLY didn't want commies, his main opposition, to win. So he played dirty. Unlike what many later said, he didn't outright steal the elections. He did, however, do everything in his power as a prez to ensure a victory.

Everyone disliked that. Which is how we got Putin.

But 90s also saw the rise of several important opposition figures. And there really was actual freedom of speech and very little crackdown on opposition and protests. It still happened, don't get me wrong, but it was so minor compared to what's happening today, that it's barely worth mentioning. Anyway, back to opposition figures.

I will note three main one. Boris Nemtsov was the biggest - he was a favorite of Yeltsin's, was even a Deputy Prime Minister at one point and was considered as Yeltsin's heir at the same point. Things didn't work out. But he was the big face of liberals and democrats of the era. A guy who's "against everything bad and for everything good".

Then there was Mikhail Khodorkovsky. An oligarch and a philantropist, he was genuinely interested in the future of Russia and making it a big important country on the world stage through education and commerce.

Lastly, Gennady Kasparov. Yeah, the chess guy who lost to a computer. He wasn't really political in the 90s, but I still consider him part of the "old guard".

Part 2 in a reblog, because this is getting unreadable.

[breelandwalker]

Worm Moon - March 7 2023

The world is thawing and spring will soon be sprung. Dust off your garden tools and get ready for the Worm Moon!

Worm Moon

The Worm Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs in the month of March in the Northern Hemisphere. The name is taken from the renewed visible presence of earthworms, which begin to bubble up in gardens and on sidewalks as the spring thaw approaches and increased temperatures and rainfall loosen the soil enough for them to emerge. And of course, this is accompanied by the presence of spring harbingers like robins and local songbirds, who are very happy to see this renewed bounty.

The March moon, if it occurs prior to the spring equinox, is also the Lenten Moon, named for the Christian holiday of Lent. Indigenous names for this moon include Goose Moon (Algonquin and Cree), Sugar Moon (Ojibwe), Sap Moon (Shawnee), and Crow Comes Back Moon (Northern Ojibwe).

What Does It Mean For Witches?

Full moons are both the beginning and end of the lunar cycle. With the Worm Moon, we can look forward to the beginning of spring and the yearly harvest cycle. So now is the perfect time for seasonal divination, plans for the coming months, and the setting of goals for the future, both short-term and long-term. You can also check in with goals you may have set back in January and record your progress. (Remember - even a little progress is still progress!)

If you're an observer of astrology, you might be interested to know that Saturn and several other planets are experiencing transitions this month, some of them for the first time in several years. For those who work in celestial spheres, this may herald a long-awaited breath of fresh air and (hopefully) positive changes to come.

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

The Worm Moon heralds the imminent start of the planting season. If you've got green fingers, now is the time to begin planning your garden for the season. Prepare your sprouting trays and browse your favorite seed catalog for inspiration.

As the Spring Equinox approaches (March 20th), this is a good time to start putting together any seasonal observances you'd like to make. It's also time for that all-important spring cleaning, so open up those windows on a warm day and air out all the staleness from winter. As you scrub and dust and declutter, you can also magically cleanse your space of stagnant, disruptive, or unwanted things, replacing them with your own energy and your good wishes and goals for the upcoming season.

Consider also how you can change or begin new routines and habits to improve your life, make better choices, streamline your schedule, or just give yourself a much-needed break. If there's something hanging around that no longer serves you, now is the time to consider bidding it adieu and moving forward to a new path.

This is also an excellent time for spells focused on fertility, optimism, and new growth. It's important to remember that fertility spells don't just have to focus on procreation. They can also be geared toward planting, creating, opportunity, inspiration, motivation, prosperity, abundance, and anything that requires nurturing and productivity.

The season of growth and renewal is upon us, so it's time to Ready, Set, GROW!

Happy Worm Moon, witches! 🌕🌱

Further Reading:

Worm Moon: Full Moon for March 2023, The Old Farmer's Almanac

Worm Moon: The Stunning Full Moon of March 2023, The Peculiar Brunette

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison

(If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

[marshmallowprotection]

Mystictober Day 12

Mystictober 2024 | Day 12: Best VNM/Saddest Moment

"Hey, how come you get the final word in?"

"Force of habit," Saeyoung beamed ear to ear as Saeran gave him a soft thwack to the harm. "You can't blame me. I want to make sure I never forget this day. We're recording it for future prosperity. I want to make sure I never forget how happy I was today. I don't want you to forget it, either, Saeran."

"Ugh, you're sappier than I remember," Saeran grumbled. The twins laughed at their lame attempts at pulling each other's leg, and there was nothing you could do but laugh along with it. It felt like you were finally at the end of a long journey, but the road wasn't over yet. You were about to start on a new journey, one filled with happiness, and hopefully less strife, because today was the day you would find your new home.

It took a lot of time and effort to figure out where you wanted to live, but after putting your heads together and working out the details, you found the right place to call home! It was a bit of a fixer upper, but the thought of working together to build your home made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It wouldn't be something someone else made, it would be something that you made together, working hard to figure out what suited you the best.

From the floor paneling to the curtains you used in the showers, you were going to make it yours!

"I don't think we'll forget today as long as we live," you said, propping up your head against Saeran's shoulder. "Saeyoung put down a huge bid on that nice little cottage for us, and he'll get to build the cabin of his dreams in the backyard to fish as much as he wants to. This is the start of our happily ever after, you know? It's the moment written on a piece of paper that makes people feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

"I couldn't have said it better myself, my love," he kissed the top of your head. "We'll have a nice home for our family for the rest of our lives."

"I do feel bad we haven't told the others about our plans just yet, they still think I'm on a fishing trip in the country," Saeyoung said.

"As if," you retorted with a huff. "You were the one who said that we should keep them on an information diet for now. They don't know we're back in the country, and they definitely don't know that we've been house shopping for the past month and a half. You thought it would be funny to surprise them with a house warming!"

"I do think the confetti cannons you installed by the front door were a little too much," Saeran added.

"You haven't lived until you've made them jump out of their socks! Yoosung's face is soooo precious when he gets scared, c'mon!"

Playfully, you ignored your future brother-in-law, "Saeran, are you sure we should let him build his cabin in the backyard? What if he adds water blasters to his canoe and tries to go rafting on the newly planted grass?"

"Oh, he knows better than to kill my grass."

"What'll you do if he does?"

He joked, "I'll make sure the grass eats good that night."

Saeyoung groaned. But, it was nice to see the brothers laughing together without any tension between them. Even though it wasn't perfect, it was on track to get better, and that's how you knew that happiness would always return no matter how tough things could become. You made a promise to see a return of happiness, and you found it with Saeran.

[notwiselybuttoowell]

The meeting was always going to be difficult given that it requires reaching decisions by consensus among nearly 200 governments, a process described by energy secretary Ed Miliband as playing “198-dimensional chess”. And in focusing on this issue of finance, the first Cop to do so, it was addressing the thorniest issue of all.

But this was made worse by incompetent leadership from fossil-fuel-rich Azerbaijan, which opened proceedings by calling oil and gas a “gift of God”. And it was bedevilled by obstructionist tactics from Saudi Arabia and weakening political will in industrialised countries, even as evidence builds that the climate crisis could be escalating out of control.

Records for soaring air and ocean temperatures, and for vanishing sea ice at both poles, are being broken by enormous margins. Last month a group of the world’s most respected climate scientists concluded that the world is “stepping into a critical and unpredictable new phase of the climate crisis”, putting it “on the brink of an irreversible climate disaster”.

It is hurtling towards permanently exceeding the internationally agreed 1.5C guardrail against catastrophe. Five tipping points that threaten to plunge the world into a more hostile climate will be triggered at that point, said the scientists – and 11 more lie beyond it.

Yet emissions continue to increase while government engagement withers. Even before Trump’s victory, EU countries had been scaling back environmental action. And Germany, France, Australia and Canada may soon elect more climate-sceptic governments too.

Britain, increasingly a climate leader, is an exception, announcing a pioneering new emissions target at Cop29, where both Miliband and Keir Starmer made a big impact. But longstanding political consensus is fracturing, with Kemi Badenoch calling herself a “net zero sceptic” even though more than three-quarters of Tory voters support a net zero target.

At Baku, as in countries around the world, the politics largely trumped the science. Take climate finance. It is authoritatively estimated that developing countries will need some $2.4tn (£1.84tn) a year. They are expected to meet nearly half of that themselves, leaving $1.3tn to come from the rich world. Most of that is expected to flow from business and “innovative sources” such as taxes on aviation and shipping, leaving a core to be provided by more prosperous country governments.

There is more disappointment over failure to endorse a landmark agreement at last year’s Cop to “transition away from fossil fuels”. After a determined Saudi bid to kill it, the final text only refers to it in a roundabout way, and the issue has effectively been shelved for a year. But Baku did agree on long-controversial rules for carbon trading that finally complete the implementation of the Paris agreement.

As in previous Cops, the most constructive developments occurred outside the formal negotiations. Britain announced £239m of new funding to help countries preserve forests. Mexico U-turned on its position as the last holdout against net zero in the G20. And Indonesia, the world’s eighth biggest CO2 polluter, unexpectedly pledged to phase out fossil-fuel power generation.

More significantly still, a coalition of more than 30 nations – including the UK and the EU – jointly promised to adopt tougher measures consistent with meeting the 1.5C target. They were inspired by a new report by the international Rhodium Group which concluded that such steps could reduce the temperature rise from the expected 2.7C to 1.4C by 2100.

This is important as, under the Paris agreement, all countries must make new commitments next year, when the coalition hopes others will follow its lead. The US was expected to join them but ducked out after Trump’s election – a sign of things to come.

The US president-elect will not shut down climate negotiations despite his intentions to leave the Paris agreement. Nor might he make much difference to US decarbonisation. Most of the Biden adminstration’s clean energy investments are in Republican-voting areas, which don’t want to lose them. And despite Trump’s pledge to “drill, baby, drill”, fossil fuel companies already have excess capacity and don’t plan to increase it. But his stance will make it harder to accelerate action that is needed to avoid disaster.

Everything depends on how the rest of the world responds, both at next year’s Cop in Brazil and in pursuing other ways of combatting climate crisis, the most effective of which would be to agree a mandatory treaty to slash emissions of methane, now seen as the fastest way to reduce global warming. If political will continues to wane, we will regret it bitterly – not just for our children, but for ourselves.