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spacelatinoluvr · 1 month ago

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THE WOLF & THE DRAGON (1/?) - aemond targaryen

series masterlist, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6

summary: To dance with dragons is to play with wolves. After surviving her own assassination attempt, Alarra Stark endured a large scar across her face, slicing her face in half. For years after Alarra was now known as "Alarra The Fierce" due to her ferocity at the young age, defending herself valiantly at merely thirteen-years-old. After then, she spent years training with her older brother, Cregan Stark, so that one day she could avoid the pain and suffering of anyone in her family; including herself. But, after those years spent training with men much larger than her, she is sent away and betrothed to Joffrey Velaryon for alliance towards the rightful heir to the Iron Throne: Rhaenyra Targaryen. Accompanying the family to Kingslanding, Alarra realized maybe marrying the young Velaryon boy wasn't so awful. But that was until she met a peculiar "one-eyed" prince. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!OC word count: 5.3k tags: slow burn, forbidden love, canon Aemond, enemies to lovers, long fic, original characters, war, arranged marriage warnings: blood and gore, extreme violence rating: 18+, !MDNI!

LITTLE FLAME

Alarra Stark was truly the most elegant in all of the North.

As a girl, Alarra was known for her beauty. Even amongst the seven kingdoms, her beauty was spoken of in hushed whispers amongst all that witnessed her: as if she were a myth or story to be proven false. Those who encountered her never second guessed her alluring blue eyes, like staring into the deep blue of The Narrow Sea. Her long red hair, always braided away from her face, displaying her breathtaking features. Freckles adorned her youthful face, like a painter had splattered brown specs across her face. Even though Alarra’s beauty was now a fact, not a myth among the inhabitants of Westeros, the people of the North had always remained in awe at the princess’s beauty. And through the years, her hair was the thing they remembered the most. Her long, thick red curly hair, that always blew in the wind as if the God’s were doing it with purpose. And when winter came, Alarra’s beauty flourished.

In all her years, the Seven had only blessed her with one winter. It lasted two years of Alarra’s youth, and she always remembered the feeling of her nose turning into a frozen nub, her cheeks pink and rosy as the air grew colder and bit at her skin. She remembered her and her brother playing in the harsh winter cold, throwing snow and laughing as their father yelled at them to get inside before they caught a cold. She remembered the good.

Winter is coming, she remembered her father spewing as he drank the sweetest wine of the Arbor.

Winter is coming, she remembered Cregan saying as he groomed the horses with her.

Winter is coming, she would repeat, as she held her head high and proud. Like a true Stark.

When winter did come, and the days got longer, it was brutal. But, Alarra found it tranquil; she found the beauty in the most unearthly things.

And that would ensue to be her downfall.

“Give it back!” Eight-year-old Alarra screamed as her older brother, Cregan, stole her knife made of wood hanging it teasingly above her head.

“Do you even know how to hold one of these properly?” Cregan tilted his head to the side, the question hanging in the air.

Silence.

And that was all Cregan needed before he smirked and waved the knife around once more. Alarra resumed her jumping, unable to grab the knife from her brother. Cregan had freshly turned one and three, and was now much much taller than Alarra. He seemed to like flaunting it.

“Cregan!” Alarra yelled, stopping her continuous jumping. Cregan paused his waving to let out a laugh.

“Here, let me show you…” Cregan motioned for Alarra to get closer and she did, a sour expression still on her face. Cregan paused, crouching down on her level.

“Now this here is the blade… see?” Cregan traced the pointy part of the wooden knife. Alarra’s expression then changed from glum to one of immense interest.

“And this… is the handle, you put your hand here- and don't hold it like you're holding a firefly-” Cregan then held Alarra’s hands guiding her to how to properly hold a real dagger. Alarra held the wooden dagger, stealing it from Cregan’s hands with a triumphant hum.

“And now my prince I must defend myself…” Alarra said, holding her head high, the dagger above her head. She slowly let the dagger fall, reaching the heart of Cregan Stark, twisting and making squelching noises as she went. Cregan groaned, falling to the ground, a tongue out of his mouth for great measure. Alarra giggled lightly, still clutching the dagger in her hand. But, as Alarra looked at Cregan, he had stopped moving, his eyes closed in bliss as he laid on the ground.

“Cregan?” Alarra got down on his level, sitting by his head, worry etched on her features. Cregan was always there for Alarra and she couldn't remember a time when they were not together. Being apart from him was like stealing the moon from the sun. She could not bear it. But, then all of a sudden, Cregan let out a roar, making Alarra squawk and jump backwards.

“Cregan! That’s not funny. I truly thought I had pierced your heart!” Cregan laughed loudly at this. How could his kind little sister hurt him?

“Oh.. with that?” Cregan questioned, still laughing. Alarra reached towards him, hitting him on the arm, making him let out a loud noise in protest.

“I'm telling father!” Alarra exclaimed, standing quickly and running out of the room. The large doors closed behind her as she ran out, through the garden outside and up the large stairs towards her fathers chambers. But, when she arrived, guards and servants were frantically running around, in and out of his chambers. A guard ran past Alarra almost running her over and she gasped, clutching her chest. A hand was then placed on her shoulder, making her turn around quickly.

“My lady…” Alarra’s handmaiden, Eyla, was staring at her with concern.

“You should not be here- where is your brother?” Alarra glanced behind the handmaiden to see Cregan, face grim and hard, approaching her.

“Cregan, what's going on?” Cregan ignored her, continuing his path towards their father’s chambers. Alarra followed closely behind, ignoring the protests of her handmaiden.

Two guards were posted outside of the chambers, frantically scanning Cregan, proud and tall and Alarra’s frame, meek and small. Cregan had said something to the guard but Alarra was not listening because only the worst scenarios had started to display in her mind. Then suddenly, Cregan barged past the two guards, opening the chamber doors with immense force. Alarra followed shortly behind him, her hands clutched tightly in front of her.

Cregan seemed to have a mind of his own, walking towards the large bed across the room. The maester stood by the bed, seeming to be speaking to their father. At the sight of that, Cregan’s shoulders visibly lowered tension leaving his back.

The room smelled old; like dusty books or an old library. Alarra paused her movements when she got to the edge of the bed, and Cregan walked towards the maester.

“What's happened, Maester?” Cregan asked, standing next to him. The maester’s expression dropped, turning to face Cregan.

“Please sit, my lord.” Cregan paused, looking behind his shoulder at Alarra.

“Leave us.”

“But, my lord-”

“I said: leave us.” Cregan bellowed, staring at his father lying on the bed, unmoving.

The maester bowed silently, shuffling out of the room, his quiet footsteps echoing around them.

A cough, sounding like the last gasp of a ghoul, carried through the room and Cregan instantly moved to sit beside their father. Alarra stayed at the edge of the bed, now able to see her fathers deathly pale face. Her father was an alabaster statue, as if he was frozen in time and breath. Another cough rang, and Alarra could visibly see the strain it left on her father.

“My boy…” He whispered, turning to Cregan.

“Father what-”

“No, Cregan you mustn't speak. Listen to me.”

Cregan stopped, like he was holding his breath waiting for father to speak.

“You are my heir. The Lord of Winterfell in a moon’s set-”

“Father-” Cregan protested, his voice cracking.

“Let me finish, please,” Their father started, breathing heavily. Cregan swallowed down his words, nodding.

“You are my boy. My heir, my only boy,” He paused to take a breath.

“You will be the Lord of Winterfell. You will be the King of the North, do you hear me?” Father said, more sternly this time. Cregan had become quiet and still before he spoke again.

“Yes, Father. I-”

“Protect her. Always. I will be right beside you.”

“Always.”

“You will see me again. Whether it’s in the wind whistling the trees before bed or under the dirt, you will see me again, my son.” Their father grasped Cregan’s hand, tightly holding it as best as he could in his weak grip.

“Alarra,” Cregan whispered, turning his head to meet her eyes.

Alarra was standing quietly at the edge of the bed still, her eyes red and she was gasping quietly as she cried. Her father put his hand out, calling her to him. Alarra ran to her father’s side of the bed, getting on her knees beside Cregan.

“Father…” She weeped, eyes wet and cheeks red.

“My firecracker…” Her father said, reaching a hand to her face, using his thumb to wipe a tear away. His hand shook as he rose it, using all of his remaining power. Alarra sniffled her nose running now as she let her tears flow. Cregan put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“Alarra Stark, you will always be a firecracker. Don’t you ever let anyone stop you. No boy, no prince, no scary spider wanting to bite you!” Her father smiled, as Alarra laughed through her sob. Her father started to cough again, this time into a white rag. The cough was more violent, and the lord’s eyes were red and bloodshot. But, it was not from crying.

“When you were still a babe, your mother would say you had not cried once when you came into this world. Into our arms. A babe, silent as the night sky but the stars could not compare to your beauty, my love.” Alarra smiled as best as she could manage through the tears.

“My flourishing flower,” He whispered, grasping her cheek. “You are a true vision of your mother.”

“But, promise me one thing,” He started to say, coughing as he spoke. Alarra’s eyes were glued to her father, as he smiled with love for his children.

“Promise me that you will be true.” He spoke in a hushed tone, eyes glossed over with endearment.

“I promise.” She said, her head held high, lip quivering. I promise that I will always remain a true Stark. And no one, not a boy, a man, or a creature will stop me.

Rickon Stark smiled, glancing at both of his children, a Stark’s visionary.

“You must shine bright my little flame…no matter how small you feel, always shine bright.”

And that is exactly what Alarra did.

On Alarra’s one and three name day, she had begun her path to womanhood. And that path to womanhood had skewed into a path of knighthood.

Alarra had awoken early that morning, before the birds were chirping and the sun began to stream into her room. She was ecstatic. Today she was to be a woman.

“Eyla?” Alarra was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting her dress. She was wearing something new, something that she wasn’t used to. She didn’t realize how much her…chest had seemed to grow overnight. Or at least it felt like that to her.

“Yes, my lady?” Eyla was bent down on the ground, fanning Alarra’s dark blue dress around her.

“How do you know you're truly a woman?” She asked meekly, as Eyla stood wiping her hands on her legs.

“Well that’s up to you, my lady. You choose what makes you feel like a woman.” Eyla stated.

“How did you know?” Alarra questioned, playing with her fingers. Eyla smiled, still looking at the ground.

“When I was ten, I bled in the night. And my mother threw me out, telling me I was a woman and I could fend for myself. But, I didn't feel like a woman. I was still a child. It wasn't until I was one and five that I knew that women have power. More than a man ever will.”

“I haven't bled yet and-”

“My lady, enjoy it. Bleeding is not a celebration.” Eyla wrapped an arm around Alarra, stroking her arm.

“Then why do people rejoice at the sight of it?”

“Because men’s heads are hollow, my lady.” Eyla clasped her hands together.

“Now, let me see your dress! How beautiful you look.” Eyla looked Alarra up and down, scanning her. Alarra’s cheeks turned red and she laughed, rolling her eyes.

“Thank you, Eyla.” Alarra whispered, smiling at the ground, putting her hands on her cheeks. Bashful as a rabbit.

“Since you are one and three, let me teach you a lesson.” Alarra groaned, dropping her hands from her face.

“A lesson. It’s my name day!”

“It’s fun, trust me my lady.” Eyla smirked at Alarra, and turned her so she was facing the mirror again, Eyla behind her.

“Women have something men don’t…” Elya started, stopping behind Alarra, looking at her through the mirror.

“We can speak with our very eyes.” She whispered, clutching Alarra between her hands, grasping at her shoulders.

“How so?” Alarra questioned, eyebrows furrowed into a line.

“Men cannot help but express their emotions,” Eyla said, her eyebrows furrowed in thought. “It is in their blood.”

Alarra’s eyes watched her handmaiden through the mirror, waiting for her to speak again. Eyla stepped next to Alarra, still looking at her through the mirror.

“Watch my eyes…” Alarra nodded quickly. Eyla’s eyes were wide and doe-like at first; like large brown deer pupils. But, just as fast her eyes darkened, a seductive look on her face. Eyla then returned her gaze back to a more tame and blissful look. Eyla smiled at Alarra through the mirror, moving to stand behind her again, before speaking.

“As women we must use our… assets to our advantage.” Eyla pushed her hand between Alarra’s shoulder blades, and Alarra subconsciously bound her chest out.

“Assets?” Alarra blurted out, uncertainty in her voice.

“Our bosoms of course!” Eyla then chuckled at Alarra’s red face.

“You know what a breast is-”

“Yes, I know,” Alarra huffed, slightly annoyed. “I'm not a child anymore. I am one and three!”

“And what a special age that is, my lady.” Eyla grinned at Alarra through the mirror again, putting both her hands on her shoulders and squeezing.

“I trust the Gods will treat you well this year.” But, Eyla had been wrong. And the Gods’ had punished her that year.

Throughout the day, Alarra had been rained with compliments on her new attire. How grown she looked in blue. How her eyes popped, the blue more prominent, in this dress. Her brother had gotten her a gift, and sat with her in the garden, as the sun was starting to set.

Cregan pulled the gift from behind his back. It was long and pointy and covered in a white cloth.

“Open it.” He said handing it to her. Alarra slowly slid the cloth off to reveal a long slender dagger. Alarra gasped, feeling its hilt and tracing her fingers along the dull side of the blade.

“This is Valyrian steel- how did you-”

“The Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch gave it to me… I feel better acquainted with a sword than a tiny knife.” Cregan’s eyes had creased as he flashes Alarra a thin-lipped smile. He seemed nervous and he was visibly fidgeting with his hands; something Alarra regularly did when she was uncertain.

Then, Alarra jumped pulling Cregan into a tight hug. Cregan let out a groan at the harshness (his shoulders were sore from training maliciously), but wrapped his arms around her small frame regardless .

“Thank you.” She whispered, as he tightened his grip on his little sister, his arms almost engulfing her whole.

“I'll teach you how to use it properly, now that this one isn't wooden.” He said teasingly, as she pulled away from him her hands still on his shoulders.

“I promise not to pierce your heart.” She giggled after her statement, taking her hands away from Cregan’s broad frame.

“Now that is true Valyrian steel. Keep it wrapped in the cloth until tomorrow. I don’t want you to cut yourself.”

That night, while Alarra lay in bed, still awake deep into the Castle’s slumber, she laid next to her new friend: the dagger of Valyrian steel. The dagger was sitting next to her, on the thin white bed sheets and Alarra couldn't help but admire its craftsmanship-

Wind blew through the window, the white curtains waving in the soft breeze, and she held her breath. But Alarra had not left the window open. In fact, she specifically remembered closing them. Alarra briskly sat up, looking around the room, scanning for something out of place.

“You're supposed to be asleep.” A low, deep voice rang through her quiet room and Alarra jumped, opening her lips to scream. But, a hand wrapped around her mouth, shoveling her cries down her throat. She wept and wept, kicking and waving her hands above her head as a man, whose face she couldn't see masked by a black cloth, put a knife to her throat. She squirmed, but stopped when the cool metal of the dagger was at her throat.

“Stop. Moving.” He gritted out. Alarra could feel the shake of his hand, a sign he was either nervous or very close to slitting her throat. Alarra screamed loudly in his sweaty palm, as she slashed with her fingers at his face. Her fingers caught his skin, and he let out a groan, covering his left eye.

“You bitch-” He grumbled moving towards her again, but she put her arms out in front of her, speaking for the first time.

“You have about five seconds to kill me before the guards find you… 5, 4-” The man yelled as he slashed at her but she moved slightly, so he'd miss his dagger going into her feather pillow. Alarra rolled off the bed, grabbing her own dagger as she did, staring at the man across from her. Then, her vision got blurry and- red? Alarra groaned as she lifted her hand to her face, red blood covered her sight and hand, smelling the metallic. She laughed, looking up at the man that was now staring at her. His dagger tightly clutched in his hand.

“You nicked me…” Alarra huffed in disbelief, staring at the blood on her hand. Suddenly, the man launched forward across the bed, yelling as he crawled across the bed reaching her. Alarra gasped, dropping the dagger as he pushed her against the wall, choking her throat with his hand. Alarra coughed, hitting his hand, over and over again but he didn't budge. He was strong, stronger than a thirteen-year-old girl, but not skilled. He was messy, and seemed to be running on his anger and not his strategy. Alarra had noticed how he was still shaking, and he breathed heavily squeezing tightly on her throat. Now, Alarra could no longer breathe and she let out short gasps of air.

The man had made a mistake. He was facing her, his lower area facing her in the perfect position- and she kicked, hard, at his prized jewels. He released her, falling to his knees in agony, groaning and moaning. Alarra fell to the ground, coughing violently. She held her chest, looking around for the dagger- her dagger. The dagger was still on the ground and she grabbed it quickly.

“Cunt!” He screamed, and he opened his mouth again to yell but before he could, a dagger positioned itself between his eyes, and blood curdled slowly, covering both his eyes like tears. He was crying blood. She pulled the dagger out, letting a sob fall out from her pink lips. Alarra screamed as she let the dagger hit his skull again, cracking through skin and bone. And she slashed down again and again and again until his body was limp against the bed frame. Alarra straddled his unmoving waist, letting her dagger fall on his face again until his eyes were red holes and his face was spotted in cuts. And now, it wasn't only her own blood that covered her but one of the armed man.

I will always remain a true Stark. And no one, not a boy, a man, or a creature will stop me.

And she kept hitting until hands reached around hers, and she screamed, fighting the person behind her. Her brother had to pull her off of the man, his face now mutilated and unrecognizable.

“It’s me, Alarra.” Her brother whispered, and she dropped to her knees on the ground as he swept her into a hug. Alarra let out a cry of relief as she smelled the musk of her older brother. And she was safe. Cregan held her that night, until morning came, as she cried and the guards took away the disfigured body of the unknown man.

The next day, Alarra bathed until her fingers turned to prunes and the water was ice cold. Her handmaid told her that the water would leave her with a runny nose but she never felt clean. She scrubbed herself until she was raw, like a newborn babe. But she still saw the blood; the way his face felt soft and slick after stabbing it so many times, the way she felt him die beneath her, the way she had almost died, the way she had beat the clutches of death. She escaped the hands of the Seven.

Alarra demanded that her brother teach her how to protect herself, for there would be a time when he would not be there to keep her safe. Alarra was already learning hand-by-hand combat and archery, but decided to focus solely on her swordsmanship. Soon enough, Alarra was a growing prodigy. Courtesy of her older brother of course, but a prodigy nonetheless. Death from the Mother above taught Alarra how to preserve, how to push herself. After beating death, Alarra became a beautiful yet valiant knight with no title to claim.

The first time Alarra looked at her face she wept. She wept for hours. Her face was ruined. A princess with a scar. And it wasn't minuscule. It wasn't a small scar, it was a ginormous line running from the top of her forehead, to the bottom of her chin. Instead of whispers of her heavenly beauty or her hair, they were now filled with whispers of the girl that defeated death. Whispers of the princess with a slash. Whispers of a killer: a savage. Whispers now contained a new nickname, one Alarra was proud to coin.

They called her, Alarra the Fierce.

“Alarra you must not attack your opponent with your sword- lead with your legs- yes just like that!”

Alarra was now freshly one and five, and through two years her swordsmanship had increased and her level of fighting was, as Cregan liked to put it, incredible. The sound of their swords clashing against the other echoed through the training room, and the castle’s staff walked in and out and about the halls but not before glancing at the pair. Both were breathing heavily before Cregan laughed, losing his balance a little at Alarra’s push. Alarra let her guard down before she eventually fell backwards, the tip of Cregan’s sword at her neck.

“You lost focus. And when your life's on the line, will you lose focus then?” Alarra scoffed from the ground as Cregan held his hand out to her. She took it, begrudgingly, and stood next to him. Alarra bit her lip, taking her gloves off before throwing them harshly on the ground.

“I thought you were going to fall-”

“Excuses.” Alarra let out a loud sigh, shaking her head. Both of the siblings removed their armor, before exiting the training hall. One thing about Alarra was that she was stubborn. Whenever she messed up she vowed to never make the same mistake twice. They walked in silence, comfortable silence, until two servants passed them, whispering to each other, their heads low. Alarra caught the last bits of their conversation and realized they were talking about her.

“They whisper as I pass them, brother.”

“Let them. It means they are fearful. And fear will only take you far in this world.” Cregan’s strides were wide but Alarra was able to keep up with him, walking next to his now manly body.

“And what if I don't want people to fear me?”

“Would you rather them love you? Admire you?”

“Yes! I very much would.” Cregan stopped walking, and turned his head to look at Alarra. Her hair was loosely tied into a braid that had been falling out due to their training.

“I want people to love me like they did father. I want them to admire me not… “ Cregan stared at her as she looked beyond him at another passing servant, who hurriedly walked past them. “The first thing they see is this.” Alarra pointed at her scar.

“The first thing they see is your face.” Cregan smirked, crossing his arms.

“No I mean- I only mean that they think I'm some savage.”

“You are Alarra the Fierce, are you not?”

“Yes, but-”

“That name was given to you. You earned it. Don’t let the opinions of others dictate how you carry that name. Embrace it. You are Alarra the Fierce. You are The Princess that Lived. People respect you because of that, and fear is just the outcome of deep honor,” Cregan paused to gather his thoughts.

“Respect is something to be earned, and you earned it the day you were born. You have always been Alarra the Fierce…it was just a matter of when you would realize it.” Cregan then pulled Alarra into a deep hug, smelling like sweat and dirt. Alarra scrunched her nose, as Cregan pushed away from her.

“And Alarra the Fierce smells like she needs a bath.”

The raven had arrived in the morning, calling upon Cregan Stark to visit Dragonstone. The letter had no details that Alarra knew of, and she had remained curious until the day of his departure.

“Can I please come? I hear Jacaerys Velaryon is one of the most handsome in the realm.” Alarra started biting her lip, knowing she'd get a rise out of her older brother. Cregan stopped walking to turn to her, a piece of hair over his right eye.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

Alarra sighed, kicking at the grass on the ground.

“And why not?” She asked quietly, still walking closely behind him.

“Because I said so, Alarra.” Cregan said sternly this time and Alarra huffed, rolling her blue eyes that contrasted from her brothers hazel ones. “You are not coming to Dragonstone with me. Have I made myself clear?”

“I am not a child.”

“Yet you act like one, no?”

Alarra bit her cheek, staring at the ground. She was now one and six, slightly annoyed that her older brother always teased her of her age.

“I have never left the North-.”

“Alarra you know why-”

“Yes, yes you vowed to protect me. But, you know damn well I can protect myself.” Alarra spat, walking towards Cregan.

“If I have the ability to protect you, I would do it over again if it means you are safe. I do not care how angry you are at me, as long as you are breathing.” Cregan stepped towards her, as much as he was annoyed, and left a kiss on the top of her head whilst pulling her into a half-hug.

“Cregan-” Cregan stepped away from her and started walking backwards.

“I will see you in two moons. Ser Wildrow will be with you when I am not.”

“Cregan-!”

And Cregan turned, stomping towards a carriage and disappearing beyond the wall.

Prick.

Two moons had come and gone, and all Alarra had done was train with Ser Wildrow. As much as Ser Wildrow didn't want to admit- he knew Alarra was just as skilled as her older brother. But, there was something different. Something in her eyes that shined. Everytime she had the upper hand her eyes gleamed, a frightening look overtaking her soft feminine features.

“I yield!” Ser Wildrow shouted, breathing heavily as his knees buckled under Alarra’s push.

“Your age is showing, Ser.” Alarra smirked as she started to take off her armor. Though Ser Wildrow wasn’t very old, not much older than her father would've been, she still enjoyed teasing the man.

Ser Wildrow was still on the ground, gradually standing.

“And you just seem to be getting better by the moon, Alarra the Fierce.” Alarra flinched at the nickname. Her alias had come from a night she wanted to forget. She lightly traced the scar with her hand, turning to face Ser Wildrow again.

“Will you bring me to the Wall?”

“Absolutely not, my lady.”

“But, I am Alarra the Fierce. And Alarra the Fierce should be able to visit the wall if she pleases.” Alarra declared, her nose pointed upwards.

Ser Wildrow stared at her for a moment, before he sighed.

“It’s as if you wish for my head on a stick, my lady.”

Ser Wildrow and Alarra were now thousands of feet in the air staring down at the deep, deep snowy landscape beneath her. Her breath fanned around her and she shivered at the cold, having not felt it since she was a child.

“Tis cold.” She murmured, shoving her hands beneath her fur coat.

Ser Wildrow laughed.

“I warned you, did I not my lady?” He smiled at her, burrowing further into his own fur coat.

“Mhm…” She grumbled, whispering profanities under her breath.

“Cregan will have your head if he finds out.”

“You worry too much.”

Silence ensued and the only sound was the wind blowing harshly against them.

“We are very high.”

“Exactly seven hundred feet that spans across three hundred miles from the Ban of Seals to the Gorge, my lady.”

Alarra stared at the fire next to them.

“Why has my brother gone to Dragonstone?”

“It is not my place to say.”

“The Heir to the Iron Throne must have a reason to summon my brother.”

Ser Wildrow remained silent, gazing at the sky that was darkening.

“It is getting dark, my lady-” Ser Wildrow started, looking back up at Alarra from the fire.

“- and your brother will be back in the morrow.”

Cregan stepped out of the carriage, his feet meeting the thick grass of Winterfell. Cregan’s eyes first met his sister’s. She encompassed a wide smile as she ran towards him, giving him a large hug. She pulled away, grinning widely.

“So, is Prince Jacaerys as handsome as they say?” She asked, laughing as her brother rolled his eyes pushing her away lightly.

“You will have to make that decision yourself.”

“Mhm… and you'll let me beyond these walls when I am merely dust and bone.”

Cregan remained silent, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. He’s hiding something.

“Alarra-” A smile graced Alarra’s face and her eyes widened, almost popping out of her skull.

“You’re letting me leave? I get to leave the North? After all these years?” Alarra stepped towards Cregan surveying his face, but he sighed putting two fingers on his temple.

“Alarra, let’s go inside-” Cregan reached a hand to pull her arm with him, towards the hall but Alarra shoved his arm away.

“No. Tell me now.” She ordered, tipping her chin upwards. A confident gesture. But, the next words that escaped his mouth were not something the Princess of the North were thinking she’d hear. She was hoping she could be free. Travel the country of Westeros with her elder brother by her side. Hence never leaving his side or the city of Winterfell, she yearned to escape. To leave. To see what lies beyond the clutches of an eerie landscape with nothing but trees and people like herself. But, she was now to be locked away in another castle, far away from her brother.

“I have given your hand to Joffrey Velaryon.”

A/N: Hi! Thank you so so much for reading! This is my first time ever posting or writing a fanfiction so please leave me some feedback. LMK if theres any corrections to be made or grammatical/spelling errors! This chapter is mainly to introduce you to the FMC (Alarra Stark, my OC) and to give you a glimpse into her past and future. Her and Aemond wont meet for two more chapters, so stay tuned!

PS I am NOT finished with Game of Thrones but I AM finished with House of the Dragon so let me know if i made any canon mistakes and if not it is now fanon! Lol and no spoilers please

#aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #cregan stark #hotd #house of the dragon #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #prince aemond #aemond x you #aemond smut

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the-iron-shoulder · 3 months ago

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2020 cross stitch of Rubicant

[image description: a cross stitch on white aida cloth of a sprite of Rubicant, from Final Fantasy 4. He is a red, demonic figure wrapped in a bright red cloak with blue splotches. The text on it says “was it glam? I will show you how!” The word “glam” is significantly larger and fancier than the surrounding text. The photo is taken in sunlight, showing off how much of the floss used is metallic and/or glossy. End description.]

made this in 2020 for my cousin! It’s a riff on a line from Final Fantasy IV, specifically the SNES translation (which, as we all know, was not exactly a modern translation). In the game, the party is up against Rubicant, the Fiend of Fire. Rubicant reveals that he was responsible for some Bad Stuff involving a party member’s family; that party member gets furious and (on the spot) learns a fire spell because of that anger, which he immediately casts at Rubicant. Since Rubicant is immune to fire, he just shrugs it off, tossing out a (maybe not perfectly translated) line that I absolutely love: “Was it Flame? I will show you how!”

(I think a more modern translation would be something like “you call that fire magic? Let me show you how it’s done!” but that doesn’t resonate with me the way the original does.)

Anyway, Rubicant’s sprite changes over the course of the battle, and in one of his two poses he’s sticking this weirdly muscular leg out of his cloak like he’s Louis XIV of France making sure that his portrait painter shows off his exquisite calves. Long story short, that inspired the text on this piece. Was it glam? I will show you how!

The photo kind of shows off the fact that this piece is SHINY. I used a lot of satin floss and a lot of metallic floss for different parts of it, so this thing straight up gleams in the right light. I think that’s appropriate for the vibe I was aiming for!

#Cross stitch #cross-stitch #My cross stitch #i made this #shitpost as interior decoration #Ff4 #ffiv #final fantasy 4 #final fantasy iv #rubicant #rubicante

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odyssean-flower · 1 year ago

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The Chief Justice and the Worst Painter in Fontaine Chapter 4 - The Chief Justice, the Painter, and the Lovely Picnic

Summary: It was supposed to be your time to relax and get in touch with your (extremely) buried creative side…but then your boss showed up. A/N: 4th and final chapter! tbh i feel like that title doesn't apply to the work that well, but i like the sound of it so i'm not changing it! Word count: 6.3k Masterpost here

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 (Bonus Scenes) || Chapter 4

The hot and sultry summer changed into a cool and crisp autumn. Unlike the seasons, your relationship with Neuvillette didn't change so drastically, but it did change.

For one thing, you two finally stopped apologizing to each other every other sentence. After your friendship was "officially" decided, the tense and polite formality between you two had dissipated. Of course, you weren't hugging him or anything like that, but you felt at ease enough to put your hand on his shoulder or touch his arm. Although, you noticed that he would only reciprocate if you touched him first.

And another thing-you two were conversing more. Well, it was mostly you talking and him listening. Neuvillette seemed to be the type who didn't mind staying silent for long periods of time until someone talked to him, and he was a good listener. You talked to him about trivial things like what you've been reading lately, or a new dessert you've tried. You tried to avoid talking about your personal life or work-related things. He was still your boss, after all, and your friendship with him was so delicate and fragile, like a glass orb, that sharing too much felt like it would strain it.

With the cost of buying canvas and paints hurting your wallet, you decided to switch to a more affordable art-related hobby: sketching. Now you no longer had to lug around your easel and canvas. With just a sketchpad and pencil, you had more freedom to move around than before. You took to it like a fish in water, sketching little animals, flowers, and buildings. You didn't want to brag, but you felt like you were much better at this than at painting. Or maybe you improved your art skills in general through painting?

When he heard about your money troubles, Neuvillette offered to buy the supplies for you, but you adamantly refused. You didn't want him to spend money on you when he had already done so much, and painting was always just a means to an end anyway.

Neuvillette still took you around to various scenic places. He would tell you about the historical events that occurred there like he had been there in person (though he never talked about his own past), and point out all the interesting but unseen things about them. But more than learning, you loved listening to him talk and watching his face as he did so. The elusive, nearly imperceptible curving of his lips or the way his eyes would soften whenever they landed on a water creature was fascinating to study. How can anyone think he's cold and unfeeling? You wondered.

But sometimes you felt a painful tug on your heart, though you didn't know why. You felt it when you looked at his tall, broad back as he walked in front of you, or in the silences that followed after you finished chattering about something. You had an inkling as to the source of these feelings, but the fear of exactly what you would find there made you deliberately not think about it.

However, it was easy to push such things to the back of your mind when you walked with Neuvillette under the warm sun or sketched something that caught your eye while he waited patiently for you. It was your secret, fervent wish that such golden days would last forever.

On a certain autumn day, you and Neuvillette were on the slopes of Mont Automnequi, admiring the changing colors of the leaves. From a distance, it looked as though the slopes were covered in flickering red and orange flames. You had brought colored pencils for the occasion and couldn't wait to use them.

The two of you settled down in a spot that had a good view of the trees but was also within a short distance of the water. It was almost an instinctual thing by now, how you two would always gravitate to the sea.

As you were getting out your sketchpad, a cool breeze suddenly blew through you, causing you to shiver. You were wearing a sweater, but it seemed that it wasn't thick enough.

"You should be dressing warmer for the weather. You'd catch a terrible cold," Neuvillette scolded you.

"Yeah," you agreed. "But it's fine. I don't get sick easily."

It was true. You could count on one hand the number of times you've ever gotten sick.

But Neuvillette didn't seem convinced. To your amazement, he took off his outer jacket-or rather, jackets, you didn't even know he was wearing two-and placed them over your shoulders. They were voluminous and heavy, practically drowning you in their fine fabrics.

"Y-You can't, sir!" you spluttered. Without his two coats, Neuvillette was only in his vest and white shirt. "What if you get cold?"

"I am made of much sturdier stuff than that. There's no need to worry about me. Humans are such fragile creatures, you must take good care of yourself."

You tried to protest some more, but he wasn't having it. You eventually stopped as the warmth from his jackets seeped into you. They held a scent that inexplicably reminded you of clear waterfalls and the pavement after it rained. It was a pleasant, refreshing scent...wait...

Your face turned bright red when you realized what you were doing. Not only were you surrounding yourself with the Chief Justice's body heat, but you were smelling his clothes as well.

Don't be weird, don't be weird... You chanted in your head. You snuck a peek at Neuvillette to see if he noticed how flustered you got and turned even redder.

Without his customary--dare you say, trademark--deep blue coats, Neuvillette almost looked like a completely different person. Less imposing and grand. You would even go so far as to say that he looked vulnerable, but he had a sturdy, virile build--

Stop thinking and start sketching, the tiny part of your brain that remained your voice of reason commanded.

Your hands moved on their own, moving across the paper with the pencil. In order to distract yourself further, you spoke as you sketched.

"Monsieur Neuvillette, I heard that you're going to be presiding over an important case next weekend."

It was a complicated case of fraud that involved a great many people, so it was necessary to question them all. This wasn't the first time Neuvillette had to miss a weekend. You were surprised that it didn't happen more often.

"Yes. I truly regret that I can't come here with you again next week. That is when the leaves are at their most beautiful."

"Well, I think they look incredible right now. I wish I'd brought a picnic basket. It's the perfect weather for baked treats like pies and brownies."

"A picnic, huh..." Neuvillette stroked his chin. "A fine idea."

"We can have one after next week. What kind of foods do you enjoy eating, sir? I can try making them." Come to think of it, you had never seen Neuvillette eat. Sometimes, you would bring sandwiches and offer one to him, but he would always decline. Maybe he didn't need to eat?

"Hmm...I suppose I do enjoy bacon. Stews as well."

"Bacon?" That was unexpected. You thought it would be something fancier. Maybe you could make bacon sandwiches or something.

You switched your pencil for a colored one and started coloring idly. The red and yellow leaves fluttered this way and that, sometimes landing in the water. The contrast between the colors of the leaves and the water was very pretty. You should sketch that too...

You looked down at your drawing and choked back a gasp. There wasn't a single drawing of trees in sight. Instead, the paper held a sketch of Neuvillette's face.

It was a surprisingly nice sketch. In fact, you would call it one of your best works yet. It was Neuvillette's head in profile, his eyes fixed on some distant point, his hair a waterfall down his back. You had been coloring the blue streaks in his hair.

How did this happen! You wanted to scream. Luckily, Neuvillette wasn't facing you then, but he would want to see what you drew. You quickly tore the sketch out and stuffed it in your pocket.

Neuvillette heard the tearing sound and turned around. "Was there something wrong with your drawing?"

"Um, y-yes! Something very wrong! It's not fit to be seen! At all!" you stammered.

"I highly doubt that. Every one of your works is a treat for the eyes."

You laughed shakily. "You really do know how to encourage someone, sir. Have you considered coming around more to the Maison Gestion? I think just a few of your words will be able to boost the morale there for a whole week."

"Really? If you say so, then I shall try doing that."

"Oh, no, that was a joke--" Just then, a red leaf twirled and fluttered, landing in Neuvillette's hair. Reflexively, you leaned forward and picked it out. Your fingers brushed against the silky white strands. He was taller than you, so you had to stand on your tip toes and lean close to him in order to reach the leaf. Too close, in fact. Your noses were practically touching.

For a heartbeat, neither of you said anything. You saw yourself reflected in his eyes. Did he also see himself in yours? His throat bobbed. You were probably making him uncomfortable. You should step back now. The sun was beating down on you harshly. How strange. It was supposed to be cooler today. You really should move back--

Neuvillette made the first move and took a few steps back. The leaf spiraled down from your hand.

"T-There was a leaf in your hair, sir," you said weakly.

He simply nodded.

You turned away to hide your flushed face. Your heart was pounding wildly. What happened back there? Where were all these feelings coming from?

"[Name]," you heard him call out to you and turned around. "It may be presumptuous of me to ask this of you, but I would very much like for you to--"

There was the loud blaring of a ship's foghorn. It drowned out the rest of Neuvillette's sentence.

"What were you saying, sir? I couldn't hear you."

Neuvillette stared at you for a few seconds, then shook his head. "...No, it is nothing. Please forget about it."

You spend the rest of your time together in companionable, albeit somewhat tense, silence. When you got home, you reached into your pocket for the sketch of Neuvillette's face but discovered that it wasn't there. Where had it gone?

"Hey, do you want to go watch the trial tomorrow? They say that it's going to be a real spectacle."

Your roommate asked you on Friday night. She was referring to the fraud case. It was all over the newspapers and all that your coworkers were talking about this week. It was rumored that the tickets had sold out within ten minutes.

"How did you get tickets for that?"

"I have my ways," your roommate said mysteriously. "So, do you want to go?"

You thought about it for a moment. Normally, you would have said no. You had never really found trials entertaining, and ever since you became friends with Neuvillette, it felt even weirder to go to a trial. It felt like you were crossing some invisible line, even though you couldn't think of any reason why it would be inappropriate.

You won't lie, you were kind of interested in the outcome. And besides, it wasn't like you had anything to do tomorrow.

"Sure, I'll go," you nodded.

Your roommate raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Really? I thought you'd turn me down, considering how you're always out doing art stuff on the weekends."

"Well...it's good to change things up once in a while. Plus, it always rains after a trial, right?"

"Yeah. Although there hadn't been any trials scheduled on the weekend lately."

"Really?" You didn't pay attention to that kind of thing.

"Yep," your roommate gave you a sly look. "I heard that the Chief Justice himself specifically arranged things like that.

"Huh..." you said, trying your best to sound nonchalant. You were sure that you never gave anyone any hint of your relationship with Neuvillette.

Your roommate gave you another meaningful look. "Alright, then, let's get up early tomorrow so we can get there on time."

The trial was as dramatic and intense as you had expected, but you found that your mind wasn't focused on it, despite--or because of--how loud the whole performance was, you caught yourself longing for the clear air of the outdoors, the sounds of the waves and birds.

The one thing that did keep your attention was Neuvillette himself. Though this wasn't your first time seeing him presiding over a trial, you were struck by just how different he was at work. He questioned the witnesses thoroughly, and his reprimands for the rowdy audience descended like a towering wave crashing down into the seats. He was seated high above the audience's seats, but you could feel his apprising gaze distinctly.

If it weren't for the times you spent together, you would have never imagined him capable of speaking to anyone warmly with that voice. Or be a water connoisseur. Or compliment your amateurish paintings so sincerely that even you began to wonder if they weren't as bad as you thought.

You briefly wondered if he, like you, longed to be in the wilds of Fontaine. It was an impertinent thought. Neuvillette was a man who took his job with the utmost seriousness.

You were sitting near the back row, which was more elevated compared to the front rows, but you still had to crane your neck just to see that blue and white figure. You wondered if he could see you down here. Probably not. You were just one small speck among many.

You felt that painful tug on your heart again.

The trial eventually ended with the accused being pronounced guilty and sentenced to prison. As you got up from your seat to join the masses of people leaving the opera house, but your roommate tugged at your sleeve and said, "Hey, mind staying behind? I want to talk to you about something."

You blinked in confusion but shrugged and sat back down. However, she didn't speak right away. It seemed that she was waiting for everyone to leave. You had a bad feeling about this.

When the last stragglers finally left, your roommate took a deep breath and turned to you.

"Are you dating Monsieur Neuvillette?"

You stared at her. Her eyes were completely serious. "W-What? No, of course not! Why would you even think that?" you splutter. Stay calm, stay calm. It's the truth, I'm not d-dating him!

"Well, I don't have any concrete evidence," your roommate admitted. "But there are some things that don't add up. For instance, you know how I mentioned that the Chief Justice personally arranged his schedule so that he wouldn't have any trials on the weekends. Well, that all started happening around the time you took up your painting."

"So? It's just a coincidence."

"I also noticed that the weekends where you don't go outside the city match up with the weekends where there are trials."

"Because it rains on those days!"

"Hmm, makes sense," your roommate nodded to herself. "Oh, another thing. The Melusines have been getting really friendly with you lately."

It was more like the other way around. The Melusines you ran into the streets or at work would all run up to you and greet you happily. Some of them even offered to help you carry your bags or give you little gifts, like wildflowers. It was a bit embarrassing for you.

"Aren't they always like that with everyone?"

"Sure, but not to this extent. And like I mentioned before, it only started happening when you started painting."

"That doesn't mean anything! Maybe I just befriended them while I was out."

Your roommate sighed, like she was fed up. "[Name], I saw the note in your drawer. It mentioned Monsieur Neuvillette."

"...Huh?" What note? You retraced your memories until you finally remembered. The note you left in your drawer before you left to go underwater with Neuvillette. Looking back now, you were extremely paranoid. "Oh, that note!"

Yeah, you weren't explaining your way out of this one. "Okay, fine. Yes, Monsieur Neuvillette and I are...acquainted. He takes me around to different drawing spots on the weekends. But we're not dating each other! We're just f-friends!"

"Friends, huh... Okay, I won't pry into what you do on the weekends. But I just wish you told me about it."

"It's not something I can just tell someone."

"Is it?" your roommate raised her eyebrows. "Even though you're just friends? You know me, I'm not the kind of person who will sell you out to the tabloids or anything. I just...felt a bit sad. We haven't been hanging out together on the weekends lately."

"..." You looked down. You and your roommate both worked at the Palais Mermonia and came home pretty late at night, so you usually relaxed together on the weekends by going shopping together or going to cafes. You haven't done that at all recently, though.

I'm such a terrible friend, you thought to yourself.

"Hey...I'm not blaming you. If I could spend alone time with the Chief Justice himself gazing at the beautiful scenery, I'd also ditch you in a heartbeat," your friend laughed, which only made you feel worse.

"I'm sorry...I swear I'll make it up to you! Next week!" you remembered the picnic. "No, the week after that!"

"Oh, not next week? You've got some special plans with Monsieur Neuvillette?" your friend teased.

"No...not really..." you mumbled.

"Now that I know who you're hanging out with these days, it makes sense to me why you turned that person down when they asked to grab a coffee with you last Saturday, even though they've been your obsession ever since you started working at the Palais."

"Oh, them," Your friend was referring to a coworker who worked in a different department. You have had a huge crush on them, but strangely, you haven't been thinking about them at all recently. "I already had plans that day to go see the autumn leaves."

"And Monsieur Neuvillette, too, right?" your friend grinned. "Ah, I feel sorry for that guy. If only he knew who he was up against."

"I told you it's not like that!" you punched your friend's arm lightly, but your mood had considerably lightened. As you looked at your friend's laughing face, you made a promise to yourself that you would definitely spoil her the week after the next.

The two of you finally decided to leave the opera house. However, as soon as you went outside, you were met with slate-gray skies and torrential rain. "Huh, that's weird," your friend muttered. "It hadn't rained like this in a while."

Neither of you noticed the flutter of stately blue robes, or the wearer of said robes gripping a piece of sketch paper in his hand.

The rain continued without ceasing that day, or the week after.

People were getting worried, and some were even whispering that the prophecy was beginning in full force. The streets were grey and sloshing with water, and the sky was always covered in thick clouds.

You must have been the only person in Fontaine who wished for the rain to continue on forever.

On the Monday after the trial, you received a note from a strangely desolate-looking Sedene.

You soon found out why she had that look on her face.

"I am writing to inform you that we will no longer be meeting each other on the weekends as before. I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience I have caused you."

That was all that was written.

It felt like the world had crashed down around you. You read and reread the note over and over, wondering if you had read something wrong, or if you missed something. But the words didn't change. You even asked Sedene if Neuvillette had said anything, but she told you that he didn't.

Neuvillette no longer wanted to see you.

You didn't really remember how you got through the day after that. It felt like a blur. The rest of the week went by in the same way. You spent the weekend in bed, crying.

The next week was no better, both in terms of the weather and your mood. It felt like something vital had been taken from you. All you could think was, Why? Was it because you went to the trial? Was it because you were taking up too much of his time? Yes, that must be it. Your roommate had said that he rearranged his schedule to make his weekends free. Everyone knew that the Chief Justice was swamped with work. You should consider it a miracle that he was able to spare so much time for you. And now everything was going back to how they were before. That was how it should be.

Yeah, you knew that this couldn't last forever.

Telling yourself that, you threw yourself into work. Just because your boss didn't want to see you anymore, it didn't mean that work was over. You couldn't quit, since you were no good at anything else. You even took on extra work, staying late at night in the office. Your worried coworkers and friends kept trying to get you to rest, but you brushed them off. It might seem counterintuitive to spend so much time in a place so closely linked to Neuvillette, but anything was better than being alone with your thoughts.

Your roommate, unable to just watch you work yourself to the bone anymore, forced you to take a day off.

"You need to talk to him," she said after you told her what happened.

"...I can't do that," you mumbled. You were lying in bed. It was so warm and comfortable here. You wished you could stay under the covers forever and never go out.

Your roommate sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Why?"

You looked at her incredulously. "Because he's the Chief Justice of Fontaine? I can't just barge into his office and demand answers from him!"

"I didn't say that. Although, I wouldn't blame you if you did. My point is, what does his being the Chief Justice have to do with this? You two are friends, aren't you? Friends are supposed to be equals. Yeah, you're in a lower position than him, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve respect!"

"But this is different..." you insisted feebly. "He'd done so much for me, and all I've done is take advantage of his kindness."

"From what you've told me, it doesn't sound like that's the case at all. He was the one who kept offering to take you to places, and he never asked for anything back, right? He never used his authority over you. You know what I think? I think you do mean something to him, or else he would have stopped bothering with you a long time ago. Something unexpected must have happened to cause him to break it off with you."

"..." You turned over.

You heard a sigh. "Listen, [Name]. I've seen your face when you get back from painting. You looked happier than I had ever seen you. Do you really want to give all that up without a fight? Or even just closure?"

The sound of footsteps exiting your room eventually faded, but your friend's words remained in your mind.

The second offensive was far more blunt and overt.

"I'm being mobbed," you said to no one in particular.

You were surrounded by a gaggle of Melusines. Their heads only reached up to your thigh, so you could probably get out if you tried, but it was their tear-filled eyes that stopped you.

"Please make up with Monsieur Neuvillette!" they cried out in unison.

"...Huh?"

"He's miserable without you, can't you see?" one of the Melusines, Everallin, said, gesturing at the sky. You looked up. It was raining as always.

"See what?" you said, confused.

The Melusines looked at each other for a moment, then said, "Never mind."

Another Melusine named Menthe spoke up. "Anyways, please go talk to him!"

"But...he was the one who told me not to see him anymore!" And besides, you heard that he hadn't been in his office for the past two weeks.

"Our Father isn't the best at expressing himself to humans," a third Melusine, Liath, piped up. "Especially the ones he really likes."

"Wait," you suddenly felt dizzy. "He likes me?"

"Yeah," Everallin nodded. "You always talk to him, and you treat him like a normal person! He always asks us for advice on how to act around you. He's so busy all the time, so you're like...his sanctuary!"

You didn't really know how to deal with this information. "He talks about me to you all?"

The Melusines looked at each other again. "Uh, Everallin, you weren't supposed to tell them that," Menthe whispered.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you felt like laughing. Maybe, just maybe, your roommate was right. "Okay, everyone. I'll try."

The crimson leaves had mostly turned brown and rotted off of the branches, leaving them bare. The ground was somewhat damp, although you brought a thick blanket with you that blocked the moisture from seeping through. It was no scenery for a picnic, but there was nothing you could do about it.

At least it wasn't raining anymore. However, the sky was still overcast, still threatening to rain at any moment.

You put down your picnic basket and sat down, gazing off into the distance. Today, you would find out once and for all if your relationship with Neuvillette was truly over.

After the meeting with the Melusines, you decided to confront Neuvillette once and for all, if only to put your own mind at ease.

First, you wrote a note for Neuvillette. It read as follows:

Monsieur Neuvillette,

I hope this finds you well. I have received your previous note, and I respect your decision. However, I would very much like to have that picnic with you, one last time. Though I can't possibly imagine your thoughts and reasons, I do know one thing for certain: our relationship deserves to end on a good note.

I will be waiting for you at the spot where we viewed the autumn leaves together. Please feel free to come or disregard this note entirely. I am fine with either choice and wish you the best.

You entrusted it to Sedene, who eagerly assured you that she would get it to Neuvillette no matter what. Did all the Melusines in the city know about you two?

Next, you and your roommate worked together to make the picnic. You also asked the Melusines for advice on what to make, and they were only too happy to help. You made a promise to yourself that no matter what happened (and the big dent it would make in your savings), you would treat your roommate and the Melusines to a big meal in the future.

You had been hesitant about the picnic at first since it felt foolish to do all that work without even knowing if Neuvillette would show up. But your friend reasoned that "at least you'll have a nice meal to comfort yourself with," and you agreed.

And now the day had arrived.

You weren't sure where you should be looking. You didn't think you could handle looking at him approaching you directly, but you had no idea which direction he would be coming from. You adjusted your seated position several times. Should you sit cross-legged or with your legs stretched out for a more casual, nonchalant feel? Your stomach was making little flips, and your palms were clammy despite the cool temperature. You tried not to think about anything, especially the possibility that he wouldn't show up.

The clouds threatened to rain at any moment. They loomed so closely that it felt like you could practically touch them.

Inexplicably, you recalled that old legend of the hydro dragon and how it rained when it cried. You wondered what it was so sad about these days.

"Hey, hydro dragon!" you shout up at the sky, mostly to relieve your own tension. "I'm going to need you to hold back those tears for today! Or else I'll never forgive you!" Man, yelling does feel really good.

You glare at the clouds, which, to your astonishment, parted a little before your eyes. Oh Archons...is the hydro dragon listening to me?

"The hydro dragon would not deserve your forgiveness," a familiar and, as you realized now, dearly missed voice sounded from behind you.

Why does he keep showing up at the worst times? You resisted the urge to jump into the sea and turned around.

Neuvillette looked as stately and elegant as he always did, but you thought that his eyes held a hint of melancholy that wasn't there before.

"Monsieur Neuvillette!" your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat. "You really came! I'm so happy to see you...haha..."

Neuvillette didn't say anything but simply stared at you. He was probably thinking he made a huge mistake coming here. You decided that you would simply barrel on without thinking about anything. That could all come later.

"Sit, sir!" you patted the blanket. "Now, I know that you said that you no longer want to see me, but I think it's a shame to end things on such an abrupt note. Even though the weather isn't cooperating with us right now, I do want to enjoy this lovely picnic with you. It's made by me, my roommate, and the Melusines."

You smiled with what you hoped was a reassuring smile, but it seemed to backfire once again, as Neuvillette seemed to clench his jaw and step back. Maybe he thought you poisoned the food.

You opened the basket and took out the food to show him that it was completely safe. "See, I've got bacon and mushroom sandwiches, apple pie, Poissonchant pie, and a nice warm carrot stew made from the purest waters in Fontaine. Oh, and I also have bottles of that water if you prefer that. The Melusines helped me get it from the mountains up north."

Neuvillette was still standing, looking down at you with an indescribable expression. Act cool, [Name], you told yourself and bit into a sandwich. It really was good. You tried your best to act unbothered and nonchalant.

Finally, Neuvillette sat down and reached for one of the bottles of water. He brought it to his mouth and drank it, then slowly closed his eyes. Success! But now you suddenly realized how small this blanket was. Your knees were practically touching his. You turned your head to the side to avoid staring at him but felt a gaze on the back of your head as you did so.

The two of you ate and drank in silence. It was awkward, to say the least. You kept thinking about how to bring up the main topic. Should you subtly lead up to it or ask him outright? The picnic was diminishing; soon it would be finished, and he would have no reason to stay here any longer. You imagined him his tall back walking away from you. Maybe that would be the last you'd ever see of it. Your heart clenched. You didn't want that to happen, not while you still had the power to stop it.

"Um..." you ventured, but before you could say anything, Neuvillette spoke first.

"...You shouldn't have wasted your time and efforts on me. I'm unworthy of it after how I treated you." His voice was quiet, so much so that you had to lean closer to hear him.

"Well, it was a pretty cold move to suddenly tell someone you're not going to see them anymore through a note, without even giving them a reason," you admitted. A raindrop landed on your nose. "But I don't think we're past the point of no return yet. After all, I decided to do this, and you agreed to meet with me."

Neuvillette didn't say anything. You decided to take this as a good sign.

"So...why did you send me that note? Was it something I did?"

"No, of course not. You've never been anything less than delightful," the speed with which he said that was surprising. "The fault lies with me. I completely forgot my position in regard to you."

You tilted your head, not understanding.

There was a brief pause before he continued. "I was very pleased when you agreed to join me on the second weekend, and the subsequent weekends after. I believed that you...enjoyed my company, just as much as I did yours. I wanted to take you to as many places as I could, just so I could see your reactions to them. And yet, I failed to consider the fact that you might not want to go on these trips, or that you might have felt an obligation to accompany me because I am your superior. And then I learned that because of me, your personal life has been affected negatively."

"Huh? What do you mean by my personal life?"

Neuvillette's expression didn't really change, but you thought that he looked a bit embarrassed. "...I overheard your conversation with your friend in the opera house. Because of my willfulness, you have been neglecting your friends and...unable to pursue romantic relationships."

Your mind was whirling with all this new information. "Wait, wait, hold on. You overheard that conversation? Does that mean you saw me in the audience that day?"

"Yes."

"Oh...if you were close enough to hear us, does that mean...you wanted to talk to me after the trial?"

"Yes. I wanted to compliment you on your sketch."

"Sketch?" At your quizzical look, Neuvillette slowly pulled out a well-thumbed piece of paper from his pocket. It looked like it had been opened and closed many times. He handed it to you, and you opened it.

It was the sketch of Neuvillette you had unconsciously done all those weeks ago. It felt like an eternity had passed since then.

You looked up to see him staring at you intently, his eyes filled with naked hope and self-loathing. It was like you were looking at yourself in the mirror.

You were also somewhat reminded of those otters you saw underwater, but you weren't about to tell him that.

Laughter bubbled up within you. Your roommate was right. When you got right down to it, the two of you were the same.

You carefully placed the sketch back in his hand and closed his fingers over it. Then, you looked right into his eyes. "Monsieur Neuvillette...you are a great fool."

He blinked, then nodded. "Yes."

"At first, it might have been as you said. I went to the places you told me to be because I was so scared of offending you. But as I got to know you more, I learned that you were nothing like what I was expecting, and I began to look forward to our time together eagerly every week. Because of you, I saw and learned things that I would have never encountered. I chose to spend time with you because I like you," Realizing that could cause misunderstandings, you added, somewhat weakly, "As a very, very dear friend to me. If anything, I'm the one who should be feeling guilty for forcing you to rearrange your schedule just to make time for me or making you feel obliged to take me to places."

"It's no great matter. I can simply make up that work during the week. And thinking of places to invite you to has never been a chore."

"Don't overwork yourself," you couldn't help but scold. "So, you see, we're both chronic worriers who constantly overthink everything, not realizing that everything can be solved by just talking to each other."

Neuvillette smiled. It was a small smile, but your breath caught. "Yes, I suppose we are."

"Next time, I'll be the one inviting you somewhere. I actually know some pretty niche spots in the city. Oh, but you might already know them, though."

"Please don't worry about that. I'll be happy to follow you to wherever you may take me."

"So, that means there will be a next time, then?" you said.

"But of course. We need to make up for lost time, after all."

"Great! Oh, maybe we can invite my friend or the Melusines on some outings, too?"

"As long as it makes you happy, I will never say no to it."

You turned red. Sometimes, Neuvillette would say the strangest things that made your heart beat faster and your legs feel restless.

"But, there is one thing I want to ask of you," Neuvillette said. He sounded serious.

"What is it?"

"As we are friends...I believe it is improper for only one party to address the other with their title, so..." he trailed off. Was Neuvillette nervous?"

"Oh!" You got what he wanted to say. "Do you want me to call you by just your name?"

"Yes, very much so."

"Okay...Neuvillette."

The sun broke through the clouds at that moment. You saw slivers of blue sky for the first time in weeks. It looked like this bad weather was finally ending.

"Wow, look at that," you breathe. "Do you think the hydro dragon is happy now?"

You could hear Neuvillette's smile in his voice as he said, "Yes, I think he is."

#genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #painter series #my works

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ghulehvous · 4 months ago

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Fanfic Fan-club June / July 2024

Some of my May / June / July fanfic highlights. I intended to this monthly no I’ll try. But I came out of eye surgery in May severely sight impaired and hyperlinking is a bitch…

I’ve tried to give a range and recommend some different authors from past time. Enjoy! (I’ve tagged the author where o knew their Tumblr name - let me know if you know any I’ve missed)

ABBA-Esque by richcreamybutter: one of my go-to comfort reads. Terzo/Copia in a snowy, Swedish cabin. (A delicious long fic with 4 complete parts, smut glorious smut, older fic)

Dawn Chorus by @her-satanic-wiles : T|his is such an interesting take on Dracopia, who captures a banished angel (in progress, make sure to read the content warnings)

I Knew Nothing but Shadows by @writingjourney : Papa IV/reader though more of an OC who is the Ministry’s painter in residence with a mysterious past. I’ve really been enjoying this version of Papa IV (in progress, a great mix of mystery and smut)

Rubenesque by @da-rulah : a delicious one-shot with retired Secondo, who’s taken up,painting, and his muse/lover. Also check out Rituale Septem - another of my comfort reads. (Smut glorious smut, one shot, make sure you check content warnings for body image)

The Guidance of the Morning Star By AlexYverr: Papa III is ascending to the papacy but it won’t be easy, especially when his family is being tight-lipped about the secrets of the void and he’s also dealing with the return of an old flame. (In progress, fantastic world building with demons and magic and plenty of mystery)

The Celi-Bet by @papasmicstand : A super fun. Shorter fic where all four Papas pledge “no nut November” - who will make it to the end of the month unscathed? (Shorter, humorous fic, smut glorious smut)

Would love to hear more about what you’ve been reading!

#the band ghost #ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus fanfiction #ao3 #ghost band fic recs #fic recs #papa emeritus copia #papa emeritus secondo #papa emeritus terzo

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acotars · 11 months ago

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books read in 2024

⋆ ⭒˚.⋆ january ⋆.˚⭒ ⋆

one dark window (the shepherd king #1) by rachel gillig

the murder on the links (hercule poirot #2) by agatha christie

pageboy by elliot page

house of sky and breath (crescent city #2) by sarah j. maas

rogue protocol (the murderbot diaries #3) by martha wells

cult classic by sloane crosley

malibu rising by taylor jenkins reid

the beauty of your face by sahar mustafah

exit strategy (the murderbot diaries #4) by martha wells

animal farm by george orwell

everyone in this room will someday be dead by emily austin

carrie soto is back by taylor jenkins reid

a court this cruel & lovely (kingdom of lies #1) by stacia stark

the rules do not apply by ariel levy

poirot investigates (hercule poirot #3) by agatha christie

yellowface by rebecca f kuang

every heart a doorway (wayward children #1) by seanan mcguire

house of flame and shadow (crescent city #3) by sarah j. maas

* · ✦ · * february * · ✦ · *

beautyland by marie-helene bertino

bride by ali hazelwood

network effect (the murderbot diaries #5) by martha wells

fugitive telemetry (the murderbot diaries #6) by martha wells

faebound (faebound #1) by saara el-arifi

the raven boys (the raven cycle #1) by maggie stiefvater **

.✦.· *. march .*· .✦.

interesting facts about space by emily austin

penance by eliza clark

the book that no one wanted to read by richard ayoade

pride and prejudice by jane austen

unlikeable female characters: the women pop culture wants you to hate by anna bogutskaya

the shame by makenna goodman

greta & valdin by rebecca k. reilly

✷ · ✶ · ✧ april ✧ · ✶ · ✷

this spells love by kate robb

out on a limb by hannah bonam-young

gwen & art are not in love by lex croucher

a lady's guide to scandal by sophie irwin

the friendship study by ruby barrett

the boyfriend candidate by ashley winstead

the pumpkin spice cafe by laurie gilmore

business or pleasure by rachel lynn solomon

how to end a love story by yulin kuang

this could be us (skyland #2) by kennedy ryan

the honeymoon crashers (the unhoneymooners #1.5) by christina lauren

we could have been friends, my father and i by raja shehadeh

how to stop time by matt haig

how to fake it in hollywood by ava wilder

with love from cold world by alicia thompson

funny story by emily henry

love radio by ebony ladelle

old flames and new fortunes by sarah hogle

just for the summer by abby jimenez

don't want you like a best friend by emma r. alban

love interest by clare gilmore

the exception to the rule (the improbable meet-cute #1) by christina lauren

worst wingman ever (the improbable meet-cute #2) by abby jimenez

with any luck (the improbable meet-cute #5) by ashley poston

last call at the local by sara grunder ruiz

happily never after by lynn painter

the ex talk by rachel lynn solomon

i kissed shara wheeler by casey mcquiston

the love wager by lynn painter

morning glory milking farm by c.m. nacosta

will they or won't they by ava wilder

.　° * ☆ may ☆ * °　.

when the sky fell on splendor by emily henry

on earth we're briefly gorgeous by ocean vuong

blizzard by marie vingtras

bright young women by jessica knoll

the age of magical overthinking: notes on modern irrationality by amanda montell

the flatshare by beth o'leary **

⋆ ˚.⋆ june ⋆.˚ ⋆

not in love by ali hazelwood

the way of kings (the stormlight archive #1) by brandon sanderson

words of radiance (the stormlight archive #2) by brandon sanderson

. · ☆ . july . ☆ · .

edgedancer (the stormlight archive #2.5) by brandon sanderson

blue iris: poems and essays by mary oliver

woman, eating by claire kohda

oathbringer (the stormlight archive #3) by brandon sanderson

a novel love story by ashley poston

chlorine by jade song

how to read now by elain castillo

please stop trying to leave me by alana saab

beautifully broken life by catherine cowles

the god of the woods by liz moore

edgedancer (the stormlight archive #3.5) by brandon sanderson

the dead and the dark by courtney gould

a most agreeable murder by julia seales

the murder of roger ackroyd (hercule poirot #4) by agatha christie

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁august ݁. ⊹ ₊ ݁.

the bluest eye by toni morrison

more, please: on food, fat, bingeing, longing, and the lust for "enough" by emma specter

the ministry of time by kaliane bradley

system collapse (the murderbot diaries #7) by martha wells

emily wilde's encycolpedia of fairies (emily wilde #1) by heather fawcett

emily wilde's map of the other lands (emily wilde #2) by heather fawcett

catalina by karla cornejo villavicencio

roadside picnic by arkady strugatsky and boris strugatsky

reading goal: 93/100

add me on goodreads !

#kate's reading log #books read in 2024 #2024*#feel free to blacklist 'kate's reading log'!

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crownlandssun · 1 year ago

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posting this to tumblr too but i am having legitimately so many fucking thoughts about fourth match flame and the scorched girl abno and how it relates to each sinner who has a fmf ego. strap in babes

spoilers for canto 4 of limbus company, as well as content warnings for violence as per project moon games!! stay safe :)

scorched girl specifically carries a theme of loss and abandonment, just as an overarching note for this post.

ryoshu is based off of hell screen, which follows a painter named yoshihide making a folding screen that depicts hell. the lord commissioning him has a really weird thing with yoshihide’s daughter and is actively throughout the story trying to make her his mistress, to which yoshihide refuses. yoshihide has this thing throughout the story where he can only paint things he’s seen, and for his references for the inhabitants of hell on the screen, he begins violently torturing his servants for these references. near the end of the story, yoshihide asks the lord commissioning him to burn a beautiful young woman to death in a grand carriage as reference for the final part of the screen. the young woman who burns alive, however, is yoshihide’s daughter. with the screen finished, yoshihide finds out what happened to his daughter, and hangs himself, to which the story ends.

so ryoshu, with her views of violence as art pretty clearly equate to yoshihide requiring these references for the screen. and with ryoshu’s new egos, spider bud is equated with themes of motherhood and the violent protection of the spider’s young. those, i don’t think there’s anything that requires in depth analysis at the moment.

ryoshu’s other two egos are both based off of fire. and scorched girl/fourth match flame for ryoshu specifically because now she has symbolism as both yoshihide AND yoshihide’s daughter.

next, rodya. and i will never forgive limbus fans for ignoring rodya’s canto as much as they do, but that’s beside the point. all of rodya’s egos down to her base ego focus pretty heavily on the freezing/hardening of the heart in order for her and others to survive, as well as how yurodivy was changing before she left. her line upon using the ego is “if even fervent flames can thaw the heart”, which keeps both rodya’s themes of “greater good” that are prevalent throughout both her canto, crime and punishment, AND the scorched girl’s themes of loss and abandonment. in particular, both the loss of rodion’s innocence and ideals for the world that she wanted to make a reality and the way she also embraces the flame in this new life, where she once again, if even for a moment, seems to have a way for her hope to burn and live again.

all of rodya’s egos so far are themed around this idea of hardening the heart. the scorched girl abno and therefore the egos as a product of her revolves around abandonment and specifically letting go. this tracks with all of the egos, but it varies from sinner to sinner, which for me only supports the theory that that their base egos are representative of both their backstories and their mental states.

finally, and my personal favorite, yi sang’s. yi sang’s stands out to me so much because it makes so much sense if you think in limbus’ context as well as the context of the narrator in the wings.

when yi sang’s fmf is used, his line is “i burn what i wish to burn”. and his stands out the most to me.

yi sang in limbus has, up to this point (pre-company) has allowed the current to pull him along and leave him with his metaphorical broken wings to where the point his colleagues/friends are taking advantage of him, similarly to the narrator in the wings and how he simply ruminates on his life throughout the story. but his line being THAT specifically holds such a candle to me (pun intended) because yi sang’s is so consciously centered around what he wants and the choice is finally gets to make; the loss of his shackles.

it’s just. it’s so important to me. ryoshu’s represents loss of yoshihide and his daughter, who both die at the end of hell screen. rodya’s represents the loss of innocence and the hardening of the heart in order to survive. and yi sang’s represents him finally having a choice. it’s so so important to me.

#limbus company #ryoshu lcb #rodion lcb #yi sang lcb #lobotomy corporation #project moon #spider bud ryoshu got me thinking a lot recently cause i just know ryoshus canto is going to kill me when it comes out

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welpnotagain · 2 months ago

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there is currently a huge Rebelle 7 sale

they also have sales for their other normally super-expensive programs like Flame Painter 4

#art programs #art #rebelle 7 #digital art

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tgrailwar-zero · 1 year ago

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One Command Spell burned. In a flash of magical energy, flashing as it filled AVENGER with newfound energy.

[ AVENGER's vitality has been restored! The maximum is limited by Sacrifice to 5! Avenger has 5 health! ]

[ Sacrifice continues to eat at AVENGER's health! His maximum has been reduced to 4! ]

He lunged towards LANCER first. Claws tearing through armor, the yelling nothing more than background ambiance.

It was no symphony, such disgusting discordant noise. He threw the body of the LANCER away, watching as it crumpled to the ground, before locking his focus over towards the CASTER.

"…Hm. I see. Pride, or perhaps...? No matter. Lancer, get up. We're leaving."

The crumpled, armored form rose from the ground, his shoulders heaving. It seemed as if a skill had been triggered.

One out of desperation, but a powerful skill nonetheless.

With that, they seemed to vanish into thin air as AVENGER thundered towards them. The corpse and the fox, as he turned his focus to the next closest sense of magical energy.

The gunman and the painter.

They talked between themselves. Whispering. Gossiping. Their words sparked like flames, ready to spread like wildfire. He loathed this attention. He craved this attention. He could sense the fear in their forms, even without being able to see their faces.

GUNNER turned to FOREIGNER

"You really think you can fight 'im? He was a spindly bastard before, but now he's showin' off some nasty power."

"…I can't fight him without killin' him."

The statement was said with nothing but cold confidence, as she stepped forward.

"The only way we're gettin' through this damn war is by workin' together, Avenger. Listen, if it was a solo gig, I'd be fine with it. Teamin' up has never been my forte, but… it's not that, so I'm puttin' a little faith in you. Got that?"

FOREIGNER lowered her paintbrush.

She was making this easy. Perhaps she had accepted her fate. After all, death was inevitable.

#thgw: chapter 3 #thgw story #main post

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miraculous-the-spectacle · 27 days ago

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everything i've every let go of has snake bites (1/4)

a/n this is part of a dark romance smut fic featuring unhealthy individuals and behaviors. you've been warned <3

Marinette was looking up at him with those big blue eyes again- the way she did last time she needed a no-questions-asked raincheck mid-date. The first time she pulled out the doll-eyed please won’t you love me look it was right after an alarm from her purse went off. At the time Luka had chalked it up to her accidentally double-booking herself and let it go, feeling more pleased with the new image of Marinette in his head than disappointed in having to pause their movie and kissing her cheek goodbye.

Then it happened again.

And again.

He knew his beloved was a busy girl. She was surrounded by people she cared for and who loved her, and her favorite way to express that was taking care of them. That took up a lot of her time. The free time she did have, she chose to spend with him- he was grateful.

So, contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t the fact that she was leaving that made these spontaneous departures so torturous. No, no, it was something much more- it was the face.

Each time without fail her cheeks would get this light blush, perfectly displayed by the way she looked straight up at him with her neck bent. Her lips would part ever-so-slightly as she waited for him to respond and she’d blink her lashes in suspension. It was tantalizing.

Naturally, each time she did this, he would have to turn away from her to answer. The few times he tried not to, he came dangerously close to devouring her on the spot- it was too risky.

Luka couldn’t help but chuckle at his own predicament. Here he was, a musician with a penchant for deep emotions and a heart that thrummed with the rhythm of love, and yet, every time Marinette flashed that irresistible look, he felt like a moth drawn to a flame. His stomach twisted, excitement and anxiety blending together like the chords of his guitar, creating a melody he couldn’t shake.

She was everything he had ever wanted—kind, creative, and so utterly captivating. But that look, those pleading blue eyes, made him feel like he was constantly teetering on the edge of something far more intense than just a casual relationship. It was a thrill, yes, but it was also a challenge; every departure felt like an unsung note left hanging in the air, a longing that needed to be fulfilled.

“Marinette?” he finally managed, turning back to her after he’d steadied himself with a deep breath. “Where are you off to this time?” He tried to sound casual, but his voice wavered slightly, betraying his eagerness to keep her there just a little longer.

She bit her lip, the blush on her cheeks deepening. “Uh, it’s just… Alya needs my help with a project. I promised her I’d be there.”

“Of course,” he said, even as disappointment flickered through him. It was so like Marinette to prioritize her friends, to always be there for them when they needed her. He admired that about her, but it made the moments they shared feel all the more fleeting.

“Maybe I could come with you? I could help, too,” he suggested, trying to mask the hint of desperation in his tone. The thought of losing her company, even for a short while, made his heart ache.

Marinette hesitated, her expression shifting to one of consideration. “I don’t know… it’s kind of a messy project. You’d probably get paint all over you.” She giggled, and the sound sent another rush of warmth through him.

“Paint? You know I could rock the ‘artist’ look, right?” He grinned, striking a pose as if he were a famous painter unveiling his latest masterpiece.

“Okay, maybe it would be kind of fun.” She smiled, her eyes lighting up with the spark he adored. “But I really need to help her out. I promise we can hang out again soon, just the two of us.”

The way she promised made his heart flutter, but the tension in his chest remained. “Yeah, soon,” he echoed, though he couldn’t shake the feeling of longing. “I’ll see you later, then?”

“Definitely!” Marinette beamed, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. It was just a simple gesture, but it sent electric thrills coursing through him. “Thanks for understanding, Luka.”

She stood, the moment stretching like an eternity as she lingered for just a second longer. He caught a hint of her floral perfume in the air, an intoxicating mix of fresh blossoms that filled the small room and lingered long after she had gone.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Luka leaned back against the couch, his heart racing. He couldn’t help but think about how many times this had happened—how often Marinette seemed to slip through his fingers just when he wanted to pull her closer. Each time, it felt like a reminder that even in their budding relationship, there was a boundary he couldn't cross, a tension that remained unspoken between them.

He picked up his guitar, fingers dancing across the strings absentmindedly as he strummed a soft tune. The notes hung in the air, mirroring his thoughts—melancholy yet hopeful, each chord resonating with the desire to keep her close, to bridge the distance created by her ever-busy life.

Luka closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him. He’d make her something special, a song just for her—something that encapsulated everything he felt but couldn’t say. Maybe it would be his way of reminding her, even when she was busy helping others, that she was always in his heart.

With renewed determination, he began to compose, pouring his emotions into the melody, hoping that one day he’d find the right moment to share it with her—along with the feelings he had yet to fully express. Until then, he would wait, guitar in hand and a heart full of songs.

He hadn’t expected it to follow him into his dreams.

There she was, his vision of life shown through this beautiful girl- only her blush was a little darker. Those piercing blue pleading eyes were more cloudy than before, as though she was lost in a haze.

“Luka?”

She reached out to him and cupped his jaw with her out-streetched hand. Leaning back slightly, he realized he’d been sitting on his bed.

“Please?” She followed him back, bringing her knees to either side of his legs.

“Of- of course you can go, Marinette.” He placed both hands on her shoulders to reassure her, “I’ll be here waiting for you.”

She bit her lip and shook her head, “No, Luka, please.”

Bringing her hips down to rest on his Luka took a sharp gasp of air before grabbing her waist. “Marinette, what-” but she’s kissing him again. Leaning in and pecking his lips once, twice, before deepening it into something more as they both lay back on the bed. Feeling her tongue wet his lips nearly breaks him in two and it takes everything to keep himself present and mindful.

They break apart, connected by a trail of saliva as Luka brings his fingers up to play with her hair. “My love,” he looks up at her this time, “what is going through that head of yours?”

But dream Marinette didn’t answer, she only faded into dust to be carried away by the wind.

His new motto was not to worry about it. If fretting over Marinette’s disappearing acts was going to bring him a new level of hell in his sleep resulting in a long, and very cold, shower in the morning, then he wasn’t going to think of it at all.

He tried, really, but it was a losing game. Every time she left with those wide, hopeful eyes and that soft smile, he felt himself caught in her gravity all over again, the memory of her touch lingering far longer than he wanted to admit. He’d spend hours with his guitar in hand, fingers running over chords as he tried to compose something that could express what words failed to capture—a song that could convey how he felt about her, even as she continued to slip away.

The melody was almost there, just on the edge of perfection, haunting and beautiful. It was soft but desperate, weaving through the tension and yearning that grew every time he was left standing in her wake. But he was still missing the final piece, the line that would tie it all together.

And then, one night, it clicked. The words came to him like whispers in the quiet of his room: I’ll be here waiting, in case you need me… even if you never come. He didn’t know if he’d ever find the courage to play it for her, but having it finished brought a strange sense of relief.

The next time they were together, Luka felt it there, humming beneath the surface. She was laughing about something silly, her fingers gesturing animatedly, and he couldn’t help but watch her, knowing his song captured every single ounce of this feeling—a mixture of happiness and the familiar ache of watching her slip further away, like sand through his fingers.

But just as he began to relax, the familiar alarm chirped from her purse. Marinette’s laughter stilled, and her cheeks took on that familiar blush, her eyes darting down. Luka’s heart sank, even as he smiled and nodded, bracing himself for her inevitable goodbye.

“I, um… I really have to go,” she stammered, giving him that look. “I’m sorry, Luka.”

Before he could respond, he felt the weight of his own song pressing down on him, the words and music he’d poured out suddenly too real. He forced a smile, struggling against the wave of helplessness that always came at these goodbyes.

“It’s okay, Marinette. Go on, do what you have to do. I’ll… I’ll see you later.”

She looked at him, and for a moment, he thought she was going to say something—her lips parted as if to speak, her gaze flickering with something close to regret. But then she closed her purse with a snap, gave him a quick hug, and dashed off, leaving him alone once more.

As she disappeared around the corner, Luka picked up his guitar, cradling it close. He took a deep breath, let the emotions roll through him, and started to play, letting the notes fill the emptiness she left behind.

The notes filled the silence, resonating with the hollow ache in his chest as Luka lost himself in the song he’d written for her. He’d poured his feelings into it, but playing it now, alone in his empty room, felt bittersweet. The melody drifted through the air, its softness brushing against memories of her laughter, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled.

But just as he was about to end the song, a soft knock startled him, breaking his concentration. Luka paused, his fingers frozen over the strings, heart thumping with a strange mix of surprise and hope.

He opened the door, and there she was—Marinette, looking slightly winded, her cheeks flushed with a faint pink. Her eyes softened when they met his, and he realized she was holding something tightly in her hands.

“Marinette?” Luka asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid that speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile moment.

“I… I couldn’t just leave.” She offered him a small smile, hesitating as she stepped inside. “I kept thinking about how you always let me go, no questions asked, and I realized how unfair that is to you. I’m always running off, and you never complain.” She looked down, embarrassed, but there was something vulnerable in her expression, something he hadn’t seen before.

Luka closed the door behind her, his heart racing as he tried to find the right words. “I just want you to be happy, Marinette. Even if that means letting you go sometimes.”

“I know,” she murmured, looking up at him with those same big, pleading eyes, but this time, he felt a new intensity behind them. “But that’s just it—I don’t want to keep leaving you. I don’t want to keep making you wait.”

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing his, and he felt his breath hitch. Her hand was warm against his, grounding him in the present moment. “I didn’t come here just to say sorry,” she continued, her voice soft, “but to tell you that… I think it’s time I stop running away.”

Luka felt his throat tighten, unsure if he was reading too much into her words, but the look in her eyes held him in place, hopeful and honest.

“Luka, I want to be here with you. All of me,” she whispered, and for the first time, she leaned into him without hesitation, pressing her lips softly to his.

He pulled away, too unsure, too full of doubt. “What do you mean? I don’t mind when you have to go Marinette.”

She melted in front of him. “I know,” she latched on to him, “I know and I love that about you, but you shouldn’t have to be.”

He shook his head, “You say you have to go. If you have to then there’s nothing more to say.”

She bit her lip and looked up. “I’m going to try something new. Something a little scary that means trusting more people and losing some control to delegate work, but it’s something I think should happen.” She met his eyes and was caught in them, “Something I need to happen, so I can have this.”

Luka's hand tightened around hers, heart pounding as he searched her face. “Are you… are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, afraid the wrong word might shatter this fragile moment.

Marinette nodded, her cheeks flushed and gaze steady, more certain than he’d ever seen her. "Yes. I want this. I want us, Luka.”

Luka pulled her close, his fingers threading into her hair as he captured her lips in a kiss that was full of all the longing, all the waiting, that had built between them. Her hands slid up his shoulders, wrapping around his neck as she leaned in, melting against him with a soft sigh. They moved together, slow and tender, each touch and kiss a confirmation, a promise that they were finally choosing each other.

Breathless, she pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands still tangled in his hair. “I don’t want to leave you waiting anymore,” she whispered, her voice soft but certain. Luka's heart surged, and he pressed his forehead against hers, taking in her closeness.

“Then don’t,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. He held her gaze, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her cheek, anchoring them in this moment. “Stay with me tonight, Marinette. Just us.”

She nodded, her fingers curling into his shirt as her face softened with relief and anticipation. They eased onto the bed, holding each other close, as if they were both afraid to let go.

Every kiss, every touch, felt like an answer to all the quiet, unanswered questions between them. They explored each other slowly, savoring every moment, every breath. Luka traced his hands over her shoulders, down her arms, his touch worshipful, wanting to make her feel how much she meant to him. Their kisses deepened, the room quiet but for their breaths and soft sighs, their connection overwhelming yet peaceful.

As they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, Luka could feel her heart beating in sync with his, a rhythm he’d felt in every song he’d written, every word he’d been too afraid to say. And as he held her close, he realized he didn’t need the right words anymore—she was here, choosing him, and that was everything.

Luka felt his heart race as Marinette’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Her lips, soft and warm against his, deepened their kiss with an intensity that sent shivers through him. He let his hands roam, fingertips tracing a line from her jaw down to her collarbone, feeling her breath hitch beneath his touch. The gentle curve of her neck, the softness of her skin—all of it felt like something he’d waited a lifetime to explore.

They moved together in a wordless rhythm, the energy between them building, each moment more electric than the last. He felt her hands slide down his shoulders, her touch growing bolder, lingering over the muscles she found beneath his shirt. She pressed herself closer, her chest rising and falling in sync with his as his thumb stroked her cheek, their faces so close he could feel the warmth of her breath.

When she drew back to look at him, her eyes were heavy with emotion, her cheeks flushed. Without breaking their gaze, he let his fingers trail along the hem of her shirt, silently asking for permission. She nodded, and he slipped it off her shoulders, revealing the beautiful skin beneath. Her breath quickened as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her collarbone, letting his lips linger as he savored the taste of her, the warmth radiating from her skin.

Marinette’s hands found their way beneath his shirt, her touch tentative but eager, fingers gliding over his chest as she pulled him even closer. He shivered at the feeling, his body responding to every touch, every delicate brush of her hands against him. His lips traveled from her collarbone up to her neck, pressing a series of slow, tender kisses that left her breathless, his hands roaming her sides as he memorized every inch of her.

Their kisses grew deeper, more urgent, each one stoking the fire between them. Luka could feel the tension building as he held her, his hands tightening around her waist, her name a whispered prayer on his lips. She responded with the same need, her own hands exploring him, tracing the lines of his body as if she were committing him to memory.

He pulled back for a moment, just to look at her, to take in the flushed cheeks, the parted lips, and the way her eyes sparkled with the same intense longing he felt. Without a word, they came together again, their bodies pressed so close there was no space between them, their kisses deepening, intensifying, filling the room with the warmth and passion that had been building between them for so long.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered—no alarms, no fleeting goodbyes. Just Luka and Marinette, together, caught in each other’s arms, finally surrendering to the unspoken bond they’d held between them for so long.

He could feel the need underneath the give of her skin. It was pooling and pooling as his deft fingers swiped over her soft stomach quickly before looking back up to her face. He imagined she looked a lot like he used to as he tried his best imitation of her blue-bell beg.

It must have worked, because her hips lifted off the bed and her eyes began to water. “Please,” she pleaded, and by god Luka knew she was real. Her voice rang out in his room better than any dream could conjure, he wished he had recorded it. Pecking her exposed navel gently before unbuttoning her pink jeans Luka briefly considered asking if he could record her, the audio that is, but decided it was probably for the best to save that for later. For now, he had work to do.

Luka’s breath caught in his throat as he unbuttoned her jeans, his fingers trembling slightly. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, and his pulse quickened at the intimacy of the moment. Marinette's eyes locked onto his, filled with a mixture of trust and anticipation, urging him forward.

“Luka,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, sending a thrill through him. He could see the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, how her lips parted slightly as she waited for him, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was about to embark on the most beautiful journey of his life.

He pushed her jeans down gently, revealing the delicate lace of her underwear, and he took a moment to appreciate her beauty, marveling at the way she glowed in the soft light of the room. “You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent, as if saying it too loudly might disrupt the magic of the moment.

Marinette’s cheeks flushed deeper at his words, her confidence shining through the shyness. “Just you wait,” she teased, a playful glint in her eye that sent another surge of warmth through him.

With a soft laugh, Luka leaned in, pressing kisses along her hips, trailing his lips over her skin, savoring every inch as he moved closer to the waistband of her underwear. She shivered at his touch, and he could feel her body responding to him, each kiss igniting a fire within them both.

“Luka…” her voice was more pant than speech, her fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on. He looked up at her, meeting her gaze, and found her eyes filled with desire. It was an invitation, and he couldn’t resist.

“Marinette,” he whispered back, feeling a rush of affection wash over him as he pressed his lips against her waistband. He hesitated for just a moment, wanting to savor the anticipation before pulling the fabric down ever so slowly. He wanted to explore her, to worship her, and he wanted her to feel cherished in every way.

As her underwear slipped away, he couldn’t help but admire her—beautiful, confident, and entirely his in this moment. He leaned closer, his heart racing as he pressed his lips against her skin, trailing soft kisses down her thighs, feeling her quiver beneath his touch. Each kiss was a promise, an affirmation of the bond they were forging, one kiss at a time.

“Luka…” she sighed, her voice laced with longing, and it was a sound he could never forget. It was both a plea and a declaration, urging him to continue, to lose themselves in this moment together.

He could feel the tension building, the heat of her body mixing with his own, and he reveled in it, lost in the sensation of her skin against his lips. Each kiss was a reminder of how far they had come, and the journey that lay ahead.

Luka pressed forward, his hands now gently cradling her thighs as he traced soft circles with his fingers, feeling her respond with a soft gasp. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured again, the words spilling from him as naturally as the music he loved. This was his song, the one he had always wanted to write, and Marinette was the melody that brought it all to life.

Their connection pulsed between them, a living, breathing entity that bound them together. As he leaned in closer, ready to explore her even more intimately, he felt her fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him back for a moment.

“Luka, please…” she whispered again, her eyes pleading, and in that moment, he realized it wasn’t just about the physical connection—it was about the emotions they shared, the bond they had built on trust and vulnerability.

He cooed at the desperate sight she made laid out in front of him before finally bringing his lips to the most sensitive part of her.

Luka's heart raced as he kissed her, each movement deliberate and filled with purpose. The softness of her skin against his lips sent waves of warmth coursing through him, and he could feel the tension between them electrifying the air. As he took his time, exploring the sensitive areas with gentle kisses and teasing licks, Marinette’s breath hitched, her body arching towards him as if urging him to go deeper.

“Luka…” she breathed, her voice a mix of plea and encouragement. It was a sound that ignited something primal in him, pushing him to savor every moment, to take her higher and higher.

He could feel her fingers tighten in his hair, her grip shifting between gentle encouragement and desperate need. With every caress, he was rewarded with her gasps and soft moans, each sound urging him on. He kissed her with intention, a sweet urgency that mirrored the racing of their hearts. Luka reveled in the way her body responded to him, how she writhed under his touch, drawing him in deeper as he explored the contours of her.

Every kiss, every flick of his tongue was a conversation all its own, a language of love that needed no words. He lost himself in the taste of her, the sweet and intoxicating essence that was uniquely Marinette. He could feel her hips moving, seeking more of him, and it filled him with a sense of power, a need to make her feel every ounce of pleasure he could give.

“Look at me, Marinette,” he murmured between kisses, his voice low and thick with emotion. He wanted her to see the sincerity in his eyes, the love that flooded his chest as he dedicated himself to her pleasure. When their gazes locked, her eyes were dark with longing, filled with trust and a desperate need that sent shivers of exhilaration through him.

“Luka, I…” she began, her voice faltering as he intensified his movements, swirling his tongue in delicate patterns that sent her spiraling. He held her gaze, watching as her breath quickened, her cheeks flushed with heat.

“Just feel, Marinette,” he urged softly, grounding her in the moment. “Let everything else fade away.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her sensitive skin, amplifying the pleasure coursing through her as he pulled back just enough to watch her face transform with every kiss.

With a newfound fervor, he licked, kissed, and teased, giving in to the rhythm of her body beneath his. Her gasps became more pronounced, a melody he wanted to keep playing over and over. Luka could sense the tension building within her, and he craved to take her to the edge and back again, to explore the depth of what they shared.

As she writhed beneath him, he felt her pulse quicken, the way her body tensed and released in waves of pleasure. “Luka, please…” she gasped again, her voice thick with desire, and he could see she was close, teetering on the edge of something breathtaking.

“Just a little more, love,” he whispered, kissing his way up her thighs, lingering for a moment to tease before returning to the source of her need. He worked diligently, determined to bring her to the peak of pleasure, to hold her hand through the bliss he knew was just within reach.

“Luka!” Her voice rang out like a bell, filled with urgency and passion, urging him on as he poured everything he had into their connection. He felt the world around them fade, leaving only the sound of their hearts beating in unison and the shared gasps of breath mingling in the air.

Finally, he felt her body shatter around him, her cries of ecstasy echoing in the room as waves of pleasure washed over her. Luka savored the sight of her unraveling, the way her back arched and her chest heaved, a beautiful masterpiece he had the honor of witnessing.

As she came down from the high, he pulled back to look at her, the love and adoration in his gaze unmistakable. Marinette’s eyes fluttered open, filled with a mix of awe and gratitude as she met his gaze, her cheeks still flushed from the intensity of their moment together.

“Luka…” she breathed, her voice soft, a smile spreading across her lips as she reached out to cup his face. “That was… incredible.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “Just wait. We’re just getting started,” he said, the promise of more lingering in the air between them, an electric charge that hinted at the depths of what they had yet to explore.

With that, he leaned in for another kiss, full of love and desire, the world around them fading away once more as they melted back into each other, hearts beating as one. She moaned at the taste of herself on his lips, coating his tongue.

“I need,” she whined, bucking her hips in the air and meeting nothing, “please,” she gasped, holding tight to him.

“My pretty girl,” he praised, petting her softly. It felt so good to be the one helping her, so good to be the only one making her feel this way. The way she gasped his name, the way she begs, he needs to spoil her, show her happiness she never thought possible, spoil her rotten for anyone else.

Luka's heart raced at her words, each plea igniting a fire deep within him. "What do you need, Marinette?" he asked, his voice low and filled with sincerity. He wanted to give her everything, to be the one who made her feel cherished and wanted in every way possible.

She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with longing. "I want you," she breathed, her voice thick with desire, "I want all of you." The vulnerability in her gaze sent a surge of warmth through him, and he felt a rush of affection that eclipsed everything else.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, wanting to make sure she felt ready for this next step. "I want to make this perfect for you."

Marinette nodded, her determination clear as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer. "I’m sure, Luka. I want you to be with me—completely," she insisted, her voice steady and earnest.

He felt a thrill at her words, a mixture of excitement and responsibility that made him want to protect her heart even more fiercely.

He brought his fingers down to meet her, two parting her lips and the middle one finding her entrance with no difficulty. She was dripping. Adding the second finger in cautiously, Luka realized she must want this as much as he does. Looking at her face she was in no discomfort, no cries of pain, only eyes growing cloudier by the second and lips bound to bleed with how tightly she bit them.

"Okay," he said softly, and with a gentle caress, he lined himself up with her, their bodies perfectly aligned, heartbeats echoing in unison.

As he entered her slowly, he paused, wanting to savor the moment, to feel the connection blossom between them. The world outside faded into nothingness as he focused solely on her, the warmth enveloping them like a cocoon. Marinette's breath hitched as she adjusted to him, her fingers gripping his shoulders, urging him on with a look of raw need.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the moment, the intimacy that bound them together, stronger than anything he had ever felt before.

"Yes, Luka. Just… please," she gasped, her eyes sparkling with a mix of eagerness and vulnerability that took his breath away.

With a gentle nod, he began to move, slow and deliberate, wanting to give her time to adjust, to feel every sensation wash over her. He pulled out slowly, until he felt tight muscles clench on his head as he nearly left her, before rocking back in. Each thrust was met with soft gasps and sighs that echoed around them, a sweet melody of their joining. He could feel her body responding to him, heat pooling between them as she shifted against him, meeting him with every thrust.

“Just like that,” she breathed, her voice trembling with pleasure. “You feel so good.”

Luka’s heart soared at her words, filling him with a sense of purpose. He wanted to give her everything she craved, to make this moment unforgettable. He picked up the pace slightly, his movements fluid and rhythmic, driving them both closer to the edge.

The world around them vanished as they became lost in each other, their bodies moving in perfect harmony, a dance of passion and tenderness that felt both primal and ethereal. With every thrust, every shared breath, he felt the connection between them grow stronger, a bond that transcended everything else.

Marinette's eyes shone with a mix of wonder and ecstasy, her voice lifting with each movement as she surrendered completely to the sensations coursing through her. “Luka, I… I can’t believe this is real,” she murmured, her hands tracing his back, pulling him closer as if she wanted to meld into him completely.

“It’s real,” he assured her, his voice thick with emotion as he held her gaze. “You’re real. This is us.” He leaned down to capture her lips in another kiss, feeling the electricity between them pulse as they moved together, lost in their world.

As they reached a fever pitch, Luka felt the tension in her body build, the way she tightened around him, pulling him deeper, urging him on with each breathless moan. “Luka, I’m so close,” she gasped, her voice thick with need, and it sent a rush of exhilaration through him.

“Let go for me, Marinette,” he whispered, his heart pounding as he pushed them both closer to the edge. “I’m right here with you.”

He brought a finger to her clit and began circling it in tight movements concentrated on the sharp nerves. He set an unrelenting pace as his fingers damn near vibrated.

With a few more powerful thrusts, he felt her body tense, the moment of release crashing over her like a wave, taking him with her. Her cries echoed in the room, pure and beautiful, filling him with a sense of wonder and joy as he surrendered to the pleasure coursing through them both.

Luka felt the world around them blur as he followed her over the edge, their bodies entwined in the most intimate connection imaginable. Every sensation was heightened, each pulse of pleasure echoing through them, creating a bond that felt unbreakable.

As they both came down from their high, he held her tightly, their bodies tangled together, hearts still racing. Marinette looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with joy and satisfaction, and he couldn’t help but smile back at her, feeling an overwhelming sense of love wash over him.

“Wow,” she breathed, still catching her breath. “I… I didn’t know it could be like that.”

“You were amazing, Marinette,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his heart swelling with affection.

She blushed at his compliment, a shy smile spreading across her lips. “We were amazing.”

He chuckled softly, feeling a warmth spread through him. “Yeah, we really were.”

As they lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, Luka knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful— he was so goddamn happy to be with her.

#lukanette #miraculous ladybug #luka couffaine #mlb #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous marinette #miraculous lb #miraculous au #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir

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novels-and-naughty-things · 5 months ago

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2024 READING LIST

JANUARY - JUNE

1 - Such Sharp Teeth - Rachel Harrison⭐⭐ 2 - The Kiss Quotient - Helen Hoang⭐⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 3 - The Bride Test - Helen Hoang⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️ 4 - My Roommate Is A Vampire - Jenna Levine⭐⭐🌶️🌶️ 5 - Good Girl Complex - Elle Kennedy⭐⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 6 - Bad Girl Reputation - Elle Kennedy⭐⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 7 - The Summer Girl - Elle Kennedy⭐⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 8 - Wreck the Halls - Tessa Bailey⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 9 - Set On You - Amy Lea⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️ 10 - Exes & O's - Amy Lea⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️

11 - Four Weddings And A Puppy - Lizzie Shane⭐⭐ 12 - The Boyfriend Candidate - Ashley Winstead⭐⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️ 13 - The Pumpkin Spice Cafe - Laurie Gilmore⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 14 - Business or Pleasure - Rachel Lynn Solomon⭐⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 15 - Faking Christmas - Kerry Winfrey⭐ 16 - Last Call At the Local - Sarah Grunder Ruiz⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️ 17 - Change of Plans - Dylan Newton⭐🌶️🌶️ 18 - Romantic Comedy - Curtis Sittenfeld⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️ 19 - The Bodyguard - Katherine Center⭐⭐⭐⭐ 20 - The Neighbor Favor - Kristina Forest⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️ 21 - To Woo and to Wed - Martha Waters⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️ 22 - Not Bad For A Girl - Anastasia Ryan⭐ 23 - The Heart Principle - Helen Hoang⭐⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 24 - Ship Wrecked - Olivia Dade⭐⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

25 - Starling House - Alix E. Harrow⭐⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️ 26 - Divine Rivals - Rebecca Ross⭐⭐⭐⭐🌶️ 27 - A Good Girl's Guide to Murder - Holly Jackson⭐⭐⭐ 28 - Powerless - Lauren Roberts⭐⭐⭐🌶️ 29 - Good Girl, Bad Blood - Holly Jackson⭐⭐⭐ 30 - As Good As Dead - Holly Jackson⭐⭐⭐⭐ 31 - A Grave Robbery - Deanna Raybourn⭐⭐⭐ 32 - Assistant to the Villain - Hannah Nicole Maehrer⭐⭐⭐⭐ 33 - My Best Friend's Exorcism - Grady Hendrix⭐⭐⭐ 34 - Icebreaker - Hannah Grace⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 35 - Fangirl Down - Tessa Bailey ⭐⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 36 - The Luminaries - Susan Dennard ⭐⭐ 37 - The Hunting Moon - Susan Dennard⭐⭐

38 - The Catch - Amy Lea⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️ 39 - The Love Remedy - Elizabeth Everett⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️ 40 - Fourth Wing - Rebecca Yarros⭐⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 41 - Happily Never After - Lynn Painter⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️ 42 - Iron Flame - Rebecca Yarros⭐⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 43 - Serpent & Dove - Shelby Mahurin⭐⭐🌶️🌶️ 44 - Blood & Honey - Shelby Mahurin⭐⭐🌶️🌶️ 45 - Gods & Monsters - Shelby Mahurin⭐⭐🌶️🌶️ 46 - Butcher & Blackbird - Brynne Weaver⭐⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 47 - Wildfire - Hannah Grace⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️ 48 - Bride - Ali Hazelwood⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️ 49 - Kill Joy - Holly Jackson⭐⭐⭐

50 - Do Your Worst - Rosie Danan⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️ 51 - A River Enchanted - Rebecca Ross⭐⭐⭐🌶️ 52 - Hello Stranger - Katherine Center ⭐⭐⭐ 53 - Betting On You - Lynn Painter⭐⭐⭐ 54 - These Hollow Vows - Lexi Ryan ⭐⭐⭐🌶️ 55 - These Twisted Bonds - Lexi Ryan⭐🌶️🌶️ 56 - Ruthless Vows - Rebecca Ross⭐⭐⭐⭐🌶️ 57 - The Ex Talk - Rachel Lynn Solomon ⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️ 58 - Weather Girl - Rachel Lynn Solomon⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️ 59 - All the Feels - Olivia Dade⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 60 - Once Upon a Broken Heart - Stephanie Garber⭐⭐ 61 - The Ballad of Never After - Stephanie Garber⭐⭐⭐🌶️ 62 - A Curse For True Love - Stephanie Garber⭐⭐

63 - On The Plus Side - Jenny L. Howe⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️ 64 - One Last Shot - Betty Cayouette⭐⭐⭐🌶️ 65 - The Body in the Garden - Katharine Schellman⭐⭐⭐ 66 - Silence in the Library - Katharine Schellman⭐⭐⭐ 67 - Death at the Manor - Katharine Schellman⭐⭐⭐ 68 - Murder at Midnight - Katharine Schellman⭐⭐⭐ 69 - Hotel Magnifique - Emily J. Taylor⭐⭐ 70 - The Rule Book - Sarah Adams⭐⭐⭐🌶️🌶️🌶️ 71 - Better Than the Movies - Lynn Painter ⭐⭐⭐⭐ 72 - Caraval - Stephanie Garber⭐⭐ 73 - Legendary - Stephanie Garber⭐⭐ 74 - Finale - Stephanie Garber⭐⭐

#2024 reading list #74/150 = 76 to go!#⭐ out of 5 #🌶️out of 5

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blouisparadise · 2 years ago

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There are so many amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of December. We’re entering a new year feeling incredibly grateful for the amazing fics we got in 2022, and excited for the many we’ll get in 2023! Happy reading!

1) Far From Reality | Explicit | 1138 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Henry Cavill.

Henry and Melissa looked like the perfect couple. Nothing could be further from the truth.

2) Honeymooning In Italy | Not Rated | 2386 words

Honeymoon sex.

3) Poisonous Ivy | Explicit | 3241 words

Louis is a starving man.

He craves many things in his life. Mainly of those things that he is hungry for are things that had been deprived off of him.

4) Flame Colored Paradise | Explicit | 3282 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Mads Mikkelsen.

A side smirk widened Mads’ lips. He looked like a sight straight from heaven in his dark three-piece suit, hair in perfect place, a relaxed look on his face, as if he hasn’t had a hard-on for the last half an hour. Louis loved how Mads was always perfectly composed, never a single strand of hair out of place. He could have his whole cock buried in Louis, with the boy falling to pieces in front of him, but not a single drop of sweat would dampen his face.

5) Alpha Heater For Sale | Ten & Up | 3626 words

He passed by the bulletin board in the hallway, as usual, flyers about open mics, dorm events, and the like. This time though, he stopped when a flyer caught his eye. The words “alpha” and “heat” calling out to him.

Louis tilted his head at the flyer curiously.

It read: Alpha heater for sale! Winter weather got you down? Call Harry for your warm, furnace-like needs!

6) Unspoken | Explicit | 5175 words

Harry and Louis broke up when they were nineteen. They see each other after six years.

7) You're The (Devil In Disguise) | Explicit | 5179 words

Louis is, in appearances, the perfect omega. Small, graceful, docile, polite and very sweet. At least, until the rebellious side of him comes out, which sends alphas running away.

8) Little Minx | Mature | 5514 words

Harry’s new flatmate Louis seems to have a growing problem…literally.

9) Down Comes The Night | Explicit | 5974 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Pedro Pascal.

A love story set in the 18th century. Pedro is a painter, commissioned to create a wedding portrait of Louis, a young man who has just left the convent. Louis is a reluctant spouse to be and Pedro must paint him without his knowledge.

10) Our Stained Skin | Explicit | 6019 words

When Louis' 8-year-old daughter shows up with a tattoo on her arm Louis needs to get to the bottom of it. That may or may not involve him tailing someone. But at least he has a good reason for it. Sort of.

11) Forever Is Composed Of Nows | Not Rated | 6598 words

There was one time of the year that Louis loved more than any other. It came on the heels of autumn, slowly at first in frosted blades of grass and misty mornings and then swept over the countryside in sheets of freshly fallen snow glinting in the sunlight. With its arrival came the glow of multi-colored strings of lights strung from the eaves of every home and a magic in the air that filled the lungs of awe-inspired pups craning their necks to take in the festive displays.

Harry and Louis spend Christmas Day together.

12) Can We Please Get Back to Fucking? | Explicit | 8370 words

Harry and Louis have had a toxic back-and-forth relationship since they hate fucked at freshman orientation. Now in their senior year, they’ve lost count of how many times they’ve broken up and gotten back together. This is a smutty one-shot from when Louis makes Harry jealous at a club. Harry takes back what is his, and they fuck in the bathroom.

13) Singer And Photographer | Not Rated | 15361 words

Harry Styles: singer, songwriter, alpha

Louis Tomlinson: photographer, omega

What if you get invited by one of your best friends to join him and his band on tour?

What if you are photographing the tour?

What if you're slowly falling in love with a special alpha?

14) Here Where You Should Be | General Audiances | 19497 words

When Harry, an anxious alpha, found himself panicking over last minute Christmas shopping, he found comfort in the kind omega shop assistant, Louis. He wasn't meant to invite the omega home for Christmas when he found out that he's spending Christmas alone. He wasn't meant to catch feelings. Hell, he wasn't even meant to be able to go home for the holiday. It was shaping up to be a Christmas full of surprises.

15) Under The Rain Or Under The Snow | Explicit | 20667 words

“I don’t think I understood.” He shakes his head and closes his eyes, as if distancing himself from the situation. “Harry? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Your mum invited me, also, how could I say no to her superb roast potatoes?”

16) 12 Days of Courting | Explicit | 22709 words

They're friends with benefits and Louis' heat is scheduled for Christmas.

17) The Evenness I Fake | Explicit | 26385 words

Harry doesn’t do relationships. He has a perfectly enjoyable friends-with-benefits agreement with a perfectly lovely omega, and he doesn’t see the need to change that anytime soon. The small fact that Louis giving his attention to another alpha makes Harry want to put his head through a wall isn’t nearly as much of an issue as everyone’s making it out to be.

18) Something Along The Lines Of ‘An Office Love Story At Christmas’ | Explicit | 43148 words

Harry hadn't planned on seeing Louis again, not after that night. When he finds out his only competition for a very desired promotion is Louis, he spirals into a mess of trying to be a better coworker and person right before Christmas in hopes that he can outdo Louis' effortless effect on his office. If he manages to get his head out of his ass along the way, it’ll be a holiday miracle.

19) All I want For Christmas Is You | Not Rated | 43253 words

Christmas AU in which a soft alpha with gorgeous green eyes and an even prettier smile moves into Louis' apartment complex and turns the omega's world upside down during his most favourite time of the year - featuring christmas decorating, christmas markets, cookies in the making, and copious amounts of mulled wine (and kisses).

20) Your Gift is Wasted On Me | Not Rated | 54472 words

“He had a partner for a long time, and he says that he was too dependent. He doesn’t want an alpha, at least not right now. But he’s got a pretty severe case of touch deprivation. So it’s … not great.”

“Is there anything …”

“He doesn’t like to be touched. There was an incident a few weeks ago and he just … he can’t bear human touch.”

21) Now I'm Begging for Footnotes In The Story of Your Life | Explicit | 80742 words

Harry and Louis are engaged, but a few months before the wedding Louis realises that they don't like each other, so instead of ending the engagement two of them go head-to-head in an all out prank war.

In the battle of who will end the engagement first.

22) You Sunshine, You Temptress | Explicit | 88148 words

A story about a forbidden love

& secrets that come to light.

Eyes as green as the forest And eyes as blue as the lake When they met a love began

Stronger than the tide And wilder than a river Fearless Despite the ban

Fairy and wolf Together one

23) My Kind Of Love | Explicit | 108178 words

Harry marries Louis for one year. Louis has no choice other than marry Harry fucking styles. There is a reason behind Harry’s sudden marriage with Louis and Louis has no idea about that. Maybe Harry married Louis for revenge.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #larry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #blp

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knifeeater · 2 years ago

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Lethe

devil’s minion in the fray of the years | the margins are our road, they do not burn, and all the flames above them are extinguished. Dante Inferno Canto XIV

Haunted Water Spellling / Cosmic Dancer T. Rex / In My Dreams AHNOHNI / Reckoner Radiohead / Dusted Belly / The Dancer PJ Harvey / Disturbia Rihanna / Drone Bomb Me AHNOHNI / Lose My Breath my bloody valentine / Romanticist Yves Tumor / You Go To My Head Billie Holiday / Summer Wine Nancy Sinatra, Lee Hazelwood / Paradise Circus Massive Attack / Burgundy Warpaint / Gouge Away Pixies / Special K Placebo / The High Kelela / Buckets of Rain Bob Dylan / When the Sun Hits Slowdive / Lost Boy Harsher / Sugar Man Rodríguez / Fuck it I love you Lana Del Rey / Beauty School Deftones / Salt Alex G / Poison Tree Grouper / Boghz King Woman / Shamaran Sevdaliza / Solid Liquid Gas Eartheater / Die 4 You Perfume Genius / Katy Song Red House Painters / I Don't Have You In My Life Black Belt Eagle Scout / Tell Nobody Nadia Tehran / Angeles Elliot Smith / In Bad Dreams The God Machine / Here Comes the Rain Again Eurythmics / Disintegration The Cure / '74-'75 The Connells / (Don't Fear) The Reaper Blue Öyster Cult / Cities In Dust Siouxsie and the Banshees

#this is the shortest & most narratively coherent it's ever going to be #tell me where to put it down etc #devil's minion #interview with the vampire #the vampire chronicles #iwtv #gustave doré #lethe #mnemonic #vc #knives #armand #daniel molloy #armaniel

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caubri · 3 months ago

Text

✧･ﾟ:RAVENWOOD LEGACY CHALLENGE:･ﾟ✧

When I was a kid I mainly played 2 games; Wizard101 and The Sims 4. So let’s mix the two!

Each generation is inspired by the seven schools from Wizard101. Unfortunately this will not be Base-Game Compatible but all pack requirements are listed next to their respective generation.

I'm not a writer so please excuse the quality of my writing <3

BASIC RULES:

Have fun! If there’s a rule that’s holding you back from having fun with your game, pretend it’s not there! (This is meant to expand your gameplay, NOT limit you.)

Match your sims wardrobe to the colours listed under each generation

Add any extra lore you’d like to. The more the merrier :D

The challenge is completed once every Generation 7 goal has been completed.

If you play this challenge, and you’d like me or others to see it, add #RavenwoodLegacy to your posts!

GENERATION 1: FIRE requires Lovestruck, Cats & Dogs

“If the mind is like a candle, the Heart is like the sun.” - Kingsisle

You’re quick to anger but you have a great passion for the loves of your life. They tend to walk a fine line so be careful, because those passionate flames could one day burn and consume you. Being completely obsessed with all things romance, you’re looking for the one that will match all the characters you’ve been writing about in your romance novels. To most people, your standards are impossible. Although you’ve dated many, you never end up settling down with anyone. On the plus side, your many dates make great writing inspiration.

Traits: Romantic, Hot-headed, Self-Assured

Aspiration: Romantic Explorer

Career: Writer: Author (Specializes in Romance Novels)

Rules:

Master Writer Career and complete Romantic Explorer Aspiration

Master Romance and Writing Skill

Adopt a Cat or Fox

Never keep a partner for longer than two sim weeks

All partners must be met through Cupid’s Corner

Next Generation Heir can only live with you, not the other parent

Associated Colours: Red, Orange, Yellow

Name Ideas (From W101): Dalia, Ashley, Bernie

GENERATION 2: ICE requires Seasons, City Living, Get Together, Nifty Knitting, Spa Day

“...with Persistence, Victory is assured.” - Kingsisle

“Slow and steady wins the race.” they say. Or at least you do. You grew up in a semi-broken household. One of your parents drove the other away shortly after you were born but that didn’t mean you had issues knowing what real love was. You didn’t realise until you were older that your parent’s standards weren’t actually that crazy. Your highschool sweetheart made you discover that whatever that was written in your parent’s romance novels can actually exist in real life. Even though you have it all, you can always be better. Whether it’s painting, skating, or knitting, you can never be less than great.

Traits: Perfectionist, High Maintenance, Loyal

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim

Career: Painter: Patron of the Arts

Rules:

Master Painter Career and Complete Renaissance Sim Aspiration

Master Painting and Fitness Skills

Have a hobby of Skating

Complete Snow Globe Collection

Marry your high school sweetheart (only remarry if your spouse dies)

Be the leader of a club and attend meetings weekly (ex. Book Club)

Take up Knitting as an elder

Associated Colours: Blue, White, Dark Purple

Name Ideas (From W101): Lydia, Kelvin

GENERATION 3: STORM requires Get To Work, Crystal Creations, Get Together

“That which can be imagined, can be achieved.” - Kingsisle

Growing up around an artist, you got to embrace your creative side at a young age. As an adult, you used your creative prowess to carry you through your career as a scientist. “Eureka!” To you, your career is like catching lightning in a bottle but to others… you may be a tad bit insane. Whenever you’re not in the lab, you express that spark with your crystal collecting. (You may have stolen a few from some co-workers… oops) And just between us… You dance in your bedroom when no one is watching.

Traits: Creative, Ambitious, Dance Machine

Aspiration: Crystal Crafter

Career: Scientist

Rules:

Master Scientist Career and Crystal Crafter Aspiration

Master Logic and Gemology Skill

Have a hobby of Dancing

Complete Crystals and Metals Collection

Have multiple children (a non-heir child must have a daughter)

Associated Colours: Purple, Yellow, Dark Green

Name Ideas (From W101): Halston, Torrence

GENERATION 4: MYTH requires Discover University, Realm of Magic, Kids Room Stuff

“To control the Future, one must look to the Past.” - Kingsisle

Your imagination is everything. Nothing means more to you than the power of your mind. Many people described your parents as crazy and the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. You value your relationships with animals and robots over other sims. Or at least you thought you did until you met your niece. After that you realized maybe having a family wouldn’t be so bad. As you were researching spellcasters in the Magic Realm of Glimmerbrook, you met someone who caught your eye. As a young adult you built yourself a robot without realizing that said robot would become your best(robot)man at your wedding.

Traits: Erratic, Genius, Jealous

Aspiration: Spellcraft and Sorcery

Career: Engineer: Mechanical Engineer

Rules:

Master Engineer Career and Spellcraft and Sorcery Aspiration

Master Robotics Skill

As a child, complete the Voidcritter Collection

(optional) Get a degree in Physics (must live in a dorm)

Marry a spellcaster, and become a spellcaster

Build and befriend Servo

Be your niece’s godparent

Associated Colours: Yellow, Blue, Black

Name Ideas (From W101): Cyrus, Ivan

GENERATION 5: LIFE requires Eco Lifestyle, Cottage Living

“As we have been Created, so must we Create.” - Kingsisle

Your entire life has been about growth. You grew your love for music since you were a kid, and as an adult you grew your plants and watched your animals grow right in your backyard. Your music breathes life and spirit into your green-filled home. As a child you were just as nurtured by your parents as your farm is by you. You wish to do the same for your children.

Traits: Good, Music Lover, Green Fiend

Aspiration: Country Caretaker

Career: Gardener: Botanist (optional)

Rules:

Master Gardener Career (optional) and Country Caretaker Aspiration

Master Gardening and a music skill of your choice

Have the next gen-heir be born in the last half of the Adult Life Stage

Attend the Finchwick Fair occasionally

Always have a Cow or Cowplant on your lot

Associated Colours: Green, Brown, Gold

Name Ideas (From W101): Linda, Blossom, Sylvia

GENERATION 6: DEATH requires Vampires, Cats and Dogs, Get Famous, Any pack including apartments

“Timor mortis conturbat me.” (The Fear of Death Confounds Me) - Kingsisle

Your earliest memory was listening to your parents singing and playing their favourite instrument. They passed away when you were decently young. As soon as they passed you moved out on your own into an apartment, adopted a cat and tried to get your life on track. You did some odd-jobs here and there to make ends meet as you could only handle having a part-time job. You visited your Parents’ graves in Forgotten Hollow and discovered the existence of vampires. This discovery seemed to give you a purpose in life, a way to potentially cheat death unlike your parents.

Traits: Loner, Cat Lover, Self-Absorbed

Aspiration: Master Vampire

Career: Any Part-Time Job

Rules:

Master A Part-Time Career and Master Vampire Aspiration

Master Pipe Organ and Vampire Lore Skill

Start a part-time job as a teenager and keep it until you retire

Keep your cat alive as long as possible using Healthy Treats

Get your spouse to eat Ambrosia at least once (if they’re not a vampire)

Live in an apartment for most of your life

Associated Colours: Black, Red, White

Name Ideas (From W101): Malistaire, Malorn, Mortis, Dworgyn

GENERATION 7: BALANCE requires Discover University, Cats and Dogs, Spa Day, Strangerville, For Rent

“Eye of Newt, and Toe of Frog, Wool of Bat, Tongue of Dog.” - Kingsisle

You believe that every part of you was once a part of the generations before you. You’re like a perfect blend of them all. It’s as if you’ve stolen little bits of everyone and turned it into one unique being. The good parts and the bad. You’re just as smart as your ancestors but also just as crazy. You do good deeds during the day by bringing justice to criminals, while committing your own crimes at night… But it balances out, right?

Traits: Generous, Paranoid, Kleptomaniac

Aspiration: Inner Peace

Career: Law: Judge

Rules:

Master Law Career and Inner Peace Aspiration

(optional) Get a degree in History

Master Wellness and Research and Debate Skill

Have a Dog

Must have a Son and Daughter (keep going till you have it)

Associated Colours: Brown, Red, Orange

Name Ideas (From W101): Arthur, Niles, Alhazred

created by @caubri

If you run into any issues involving the writing of this challenge, let me know so i can fix it, as I have not gotten a chance to fully play test this yet.

#ravenwoodlegacy #ravenwoodlegacychallenge #the sims 4 #legacy challenge #the sims #sims challenge #sims 4 legacy challenge #caubri

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