#her late grandmother was a cat lover

[missydior]

milk & honey ౨ৎ

notes: charles leclerc x reader, established relationship, fluff.

a/n: this is my first uploaded piece on my new blog so please interact, would very much be appreciated.

It is a gentle afternoon in the principality of Monaco: the skies a palette of pale lilac against the quilt of grey clouds in gentle rainfall that lingers with a hint of petrichor, a slow and familiar hustle amongst the streets of smooth stone and Belle Époque architecture where a stray cat wanders her path before disappearing once more into the alcoves of an alley.

After a slow dawn of waking amongst a mess of clean, linen sheets, feathered pillows, and tangled limbs where the heavy, velvet curtains danced serenely in some lovers' waltz, hiding the bedroom in some quiet bask, the both of you enjoyed breakfast over almond croissants, blueberries stolen from one another's plates and your usual café au lait – half a sugar, more milk than deemed necessary, just as Charles knows you love it – before you had walked around the neighbourhood by eleven o'clock to at least feel somewhat productive.

Even when the both of you only wanted to lounge endlessly after returning from Montréal the day before.

Despite finishing 4th and not quite following through in his hopes in securing an awarding podium and a taste of sweet champagne, faced with the recent difficulties of upgrades, he had come to accept and delight in his small succession nonetheless with you by his side, forever proud regardless.

Phones on mute, the rest of society blissfully forgotten and only each other to indulge in, it is pure bliss; perfect heaven.

"Hm, you smell nice," By two o'clock – after a light luncheon on the balcony overlooking the beauty of the Côte d'Azur – you are dozing idly about the plush invitation of the sofa, his voice a hushed murmur near the side of your neck where lips ghost over in something close to a kiss when he speaks.

Charles is half-draped over your own figure, though his weight is comfortably balanced by an elbow against a sewn cushion, some kind of Jardin De Fleurs -inspired embroidery made and gifted by your grandmother, with ankles locked about each other and your soft-skinned palm tracing his shoulder through the white linen of his shirt.

For a moment, a quietude settles between you once more and you welcome the entwined curl of his lithe fingers around your own when his hand drifts higher from the inside of your wrist absently like some unspoken 'I love you' before his mouth meets yours.

It is slow and sweet, the kind of kisses you savour in committing to memory each and every time, and he can taste remnants of sweetened milk & honey tea on your breath that is so apparently mundane but equally unique to you alone.

When your head tilts back against the cushions – hair falling about like an angel's halo – and Charles shifts his own body further, closer, above you, his hands come to cradle either side of your lovely face, his thumbs grazing the delicate line of your cheekbones, his nose brushing lightly against the bridge of your own.

He kisses your brow, then the bridge of your nose, the apples of your cheeks, and finally your mouth again, all in that order, before breaking away for air.

"What was that for?" Voice hardly a demure whisper, you gaze at him through the veil of your lashes in some lovesick delight where your mouth threatens to curve against a hushed giggle, your own touch idly feeling along the carved line of his jaw like intricate marble where a dusting of five o'clock shadow lingers from a few days' worth. You secretly adore it, how it feels.

Charles smiles – all beautiful, revealed dimples and a glimmer in his eyes that remind of leaves in late August – and brushes a stray hair behind the shell of your ear. He takes a moment, his gaze lingering about the lines of your visage as if falling in love again, everyday. "For no particular reason, ma chérie, just because I want to."

Then he is leaning down to meet you again just as you welcome the embrace without question, only allowing yourself to melt further into the serenity of some lovesick truth as your arms drape about his shoulders faintly.

"Je pense..." Charles' mouth drifts down from yours slowly in a trail of kisses about your chin in his verbalised albeit quiet musings before lips slant together again and he encourages you to open for him, tasting, feeling, his tongue teasing over yours in a caress, "That I don't need a reason to kiss you."

In some silent, earnest contentment, you agree, because you could never refuse or object to the intimacy of his kisses and touches.

Mouth curving upwards against his, you let your fingertips feel the trimmed, soft hairs at his nape against tousled brunet tresses whilst breathing him in: Ombré Nomade cologne, hints of something akin to cedarwood against raspberry, incense and warm amber, against his natural pheromones. Home.

Feeling the lean muscles against his back through the soft fabric, toying only subtly with the subtle drag of teeth against his plush lower-lip whilst your eyes remain blissfully closed, you meet the faintest resonance of a sound from the back of his throat like a purr when he sucks upon your tongue with the same touch of loving.

"Vous êtes si belle," He sighs the compliments against you in sweet nothings and unabashed confessions, his own touch ghosting over the curves of your waist through the ivory, lace camisole hugging your physique, thumbs fleeting over the jut of your hip-bone before drifting higher once more.

It is when idle strokes are felt over your rib cage that you unconsciously emit a breathless, flushed sound of laughter against him before you can help yourself, instinctively shrinking against the touch whilst earning a look from him as he draws away fractionally with arched brows.

"Ticklish, are we, ma chérie?"

Your mouth parts for a retort or quick dismissal out of bashfulness – even when you know that he already knows too, given the Monégasque has the privilege to know each intimate, secretive and wholehearted truth about you – though the words die on your tongue the moment his fingertips continue their ministrations over your sides.

You cannot stop the serenade of laughter from leaving you, not when you are entirely vulnerable beneath, and a warmth settles in your chest when the corners of his eyes crinkle in a genuine smile as he continues tickling you.

"Arrêt–" A breathless gasp of imploration, palms that reach to try and draw him away with a shove at his chest though your rosé cheeks hurt from the depth of your raw, honest smiles, "Charles." ꒰ stop ꒱

Chuckling lowly, the man offers you the respite of mercy as he comes to a halt and kisses the corner of your mouth intimately, instead allowing his hands to feel the curve of your lower-back and the notches of your vertebrae until eyes meet in the peace of the afternoon, otherwise silent save for the lull of Lana del Rey from the kitchenette radio.

"Je t'aime." ꒰ i love you ꒱

He kisses you again and it is rich in his responding, ardent devotion to you, letting the faint remnants of your lipstick smear his own mouth like the prints you leave on hand-written love letters of cursive Française just for him in your diaries, the cashmere throw forgotten about your feet on the other end of the chaise lounge whilst rain continues.

"Je t'aime aussi, pour toujours." ꒰ i love you too, forever ꒱

[i-am-baechu]

"The legendary seven, Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and shit head (Jeon Jungkook). The top students and the wealthiest, they always mean trouble."

Title: Gamer Boy (M)

♡ Summary: Y/N is just an average student at Seoul University but what she doesn’t know is that the person she’s been watching YouTube videos, streams, and having a crush on is the university heartthrob!

♡ Genre: Fluff, romance, smut, enemies to lovers, secret identity, fan girl, pride and prejudice inspired kind of and angst 

Title: Mutual Understanding (M)

♡ Summary: She wants nothing to do with love and he hates relationships. Perfect.

♡ Genre: Romance, angst, smut, slow burn, fake relationship au, and cat and mouse vibes

Title: Unread (M)

♡ Summary: Having a crush is hard especially on someone like Kim Namjoon. At least her letters can tell him how she feels without facing the sad reality.

♡ Genre: Fluff, romance, angst, smut, extremely shy reader, heartfelt and crush situation

Title: All The Stars (M)

♡ Summary: Yoongi is asked by his father to visit his grandmother. The only problem is, its in the country side. Going to the country side is dreadful doesn't matter if his grandmothers helper is cute.

♡ Genre: Fluff, romance, angst, smut, slow burn, enemies to lovers, and big city boy and small town girl

Title: Why We Broke up (M)

♡ Summary: It's been a year but Jimin can't stop thinking about Y/N. He doesn't even remember why they broke up. Going down memory road and realizing who you are is hard. Is it to late to get her back?

♡ Genre: Fluff, romance, angst, smut, flashbacks, slow burn, lovers to exes, and exes to lovers

Title: Dancing Queen (M)

♡ Summary: Two sides of the same coin. Hoseok does hip-hop dance while Y/N does ballet. She's from a prestigious dancing family that looks down on other dance forms but she isn't like her family.

♡ Genre: Fluff, romance, angst, smut, opposites attract, love at first sight and romeo and juliet vibes

Title: Pretty Boy (M)

♡ Summary: Somehow someone knows everyone's business. Espically the legendary seven's lives. Seokjin has always been curious about this but never really looked into. He's too focus on figuring out his future wife.

♡ Genre: Fluff, romance, angst, smut, sisters best friend, childhood friends, one sided love to enemies, enemies to lovers and arranged marriage

[cowgirlcherrie]

THE PRINCESS DIARIES — *ೃ༄

rockstar! ellie x princess! fem! reader. wc: 11.4k

synopsis: discovering your sense of self after a lofty adjustment to the throne, your guitar-wielding ex-fling shows you that you shouldn’t hate the world.

warnings: 18+. MDNI Sarah is alive in this and is r! best friend, Abby cameo, WOC coded fem! reader, mentions/talks of death, jealousy, smoking (Ellie smokes cigs), bickering, arguing, enemies to lovers, closely inspired by The Princess Diaries movie, mean-ish! Ellie, cursing, rushes to perfection, panic attacks r! has one, anger management classes/ anger issues, Ellie is kinda reckless in this, College-modern! Ellie adjacent, kissing, mentions of hook-ups. best friends sister kinda thing, petnames (princess, dear, baby), kinda slow burn

━━ ♪ Enchanted by taylor swift, I know you by faye webster

a/n: hi my loves this is an almost 200 followers gift, because I love you guys all so much and I'm so glad that you are supporting and enjoying my work, please enjoy because this is a long but sweet one similar to my totally clueless work, inspired by one of the cutest movies everrr - 100% inspired by this art that I’ve seen as welll♡♡

It was time to trade your t-shirt and skirts for dresses, converses to heels. Rags to riches. Royalty knocked on your door like a death sentence, and you were sick of it.

“Did you seriously give my cat a tiara?”

This was not the first thing you wanted to see coming back to your dorm after a dreadful 3-hour class. Your precious golden locked tabby resting on your pink decorative pillow with a toddler tiara on his head — contrasting the scowl on his face as soft meows left his mouth in discomfort. He almost looked like yourself. Bitter and dissatisfied.

This seemed to be an everyday occurrence. Your vivacious roommate, Sarah Miller, loved to tease you about the title you hated the most. Royalty. With Royalty comes nobility and class. The ball gowns, prestige, and perfection almost made you want to throw up at the sight of it. But you couldn’t bail for the sake of Glendale being without a ruler or the public shame, you couldn’t back out – It was far too late. 

When the words Princess Hier fell out of your grandmother’s mouth, you felt every wall of comfort fall down. A safety shell forms around your body, fighting the change. The change was supposed to be good, but this felt mentally taxing. Not like it was the end of the world — however, to your peace and serenity it was. Moderately shying away from public acknowledgment would be more conventional to you.

“Isn’t he cute, a little prince…of Glendale” Sarah laughed, rubbing your cat’s face to which he jumped off the bed, hiding underneath the plush mountain that was your mattress. All you could do was groan. Throwing your body dramatically onto your bed, The Jackon U baby tee on your body lifting up slightly to expose your stomach as you inhaled and exhaled deeply. 

“Wish I could retire myself from the royal family” you dragged, looking at your phone now to see the arrangements of messages. Specifically, the one from your grandma saying you had princess training and a brunch with her at 5 tomorrow. 

“Isn’t that all we ever dreamed about…hell you even have a personal bodyguard,” Sarah emphasized, “How cool is that!” the girl sat on her bed, painting her nails a plush pink color humming the tune of the Ariana Grande song that she recently bought on vinyl. 

Sarah was right, whilst it sounded good, the thought of exchanging your personal freedoms for a title disgusted you. How were you to be the people’s princess when you couldn’t even navigate adulthood properly? It was strikingly overwhelming. Your mother, coddling you away from the fate of your future just made it worse.

You groaned again, “Next subject…” 

“Will you be here tomorrow? Going to Ellie’s, the band is practicing for the Spring Festival” Sarah inquired while blowing on her nails with ease. Right…Ellie. Your sworn enemy Ellie, Sarah’s sister…Ellie. She was enigmatic to you, certainly, the type you don’t bring home to Mama, just a rebellious firecracker. You could smell the faint aroma of cigarettes and wood just by thinking about her. Her presence was frustrating to you. Surely she felt the same. 

You weren’t sure how you have come to dislike Ellie, it seemed set in stone, written off in the stars for the two of you. At the first meeting, you thought everything was perfect. That she would be a friend, not a foe. You found Ellie to be quite pretty, with short hair and tattoos to contrast your girly attitude. She wore a large leather jacket when you first met her. Cigarette hanging lowly from her lips as she smiled at you. Chartreuse orbs twinkled as her hand was out for yours to shake. You were naive, she was an arrogant know-it-all, but not with you. 

Wherever there was Sarah, there would certainly be you, the blonde dragging you to every event, every show. You were Sarah’s cheerleader, Ellie’s too. You recalled the night you and Ellie got stuck stargazing on the rooftop of the science building. It seemed downhill from there, an accidental liplock where you made home with her lips on yours. The pillow-like clouds that encompassed your own, despite her rough attitude, she was gentle with you. 

Her hands held your waist as if you were fragile. She kept pushing, kept kissing until her cheeks were flushed red and breathing seemed obsolete. She kissed like she would never see you again, as if you were dissipating in her hands. With Sarah to your rescue, Ellie had to ruin the moment by saying, “Don’t tell anyone”

So you didn’t. It was your little secret. Pushing your newfound feelings aside and instead found yourself wandering eyes to Lacrosse player #5, Abby Anderson. The first time you brought it up, you were certain that Ellie Williams officially despised you.

“There’s this girl…I really wanna get with her by the end of the semester” You told Sarah, the two of you sitting in the band basement’s brown couch. The two of you gossiped after her band practice. You swore that there were only the two of you in the room, not caring to whisper or lower your tone.

“Oh my…what’s her name?” Sarah whispered as she leaned into your figure, prying for more.

“Abby, on the lacrosse team.” You confessed making Sarah’s jaw drop in shock. 

“No way, everyone fucking wants Abby! She’s hot though, and you’re hot too…If the two of you were alone in a room I think you truly could hook up with her!” Sarah chimed in, nodding her head in pleasure. You could only giggle. “No way” 

“Yes!..way!”

“No—”

“I don’t see it” Ellie spoke up making her presence known in the room. Walking to where her guitar stood on the stand to unplug it from the amplifier. Your body jumped at her sudden entry, the pitter-patter of your heart, beating like a knocker on the door. You weren’t sure if it was her presence that made you nervous or if it was the fact that she was saying no, to you seeing someone else.

Was it anxiety? Fear? Or sadness? Possibly all 3.

“Huh,” you mumbled, smile dropping as you eyed her figure who wasn’t paying attention to you. Vision getting cloudier by the second.

“Just saying…you’re gullible, overly trusting and fuckin’ virginal…she’ll wreck you – probably hit n’ quit [Ellie!]” The sound of glass shattering replayed in your head. Your lips were separated, but a sound refused to escape your lips. Waterline full of crystal clear tears as the room, and the girl in front of you grew shiny. The words that Ellie said sticking with you. It was cold and low of her, Ellie even knew she might have gone too far, masking her feelings with the coldness that felt like a warm hug to her. Ellie knew better, finally looking at you, her heart tearing at the sight of disbelief on your face. Watery eyes, she was fucked up. But Ellie wanted you to let it go. She wanted to let you go.

It wasn’t for her, hell it was for you. If Ellie wasn’t so emotionally constipated she would have changed her mind and been honest with you. The way your glossed lips felt on hers that night, she could get used to you being hers, that’s all she could ever dream about since it happened. Since you shook her hand the day the two of you first met. She wanted you to be hers.

Ellie Williams was a first-class asshole.

Now you never ended up dating Abby, hell you wish you did. Choosing to drop your little crush and focus on yourself instead. Especially after finding out your royal status, love seemed immature, and off the table – almost overrated. Others, however, thought the future was bright for Ellie and yourself. Sarah was convinced the two of you would end up dating in the future, often rambling about how the both of you would hate each other so much, that you end up infatuated with each other. All bullshit.

Lies.

“Just hearing her name makes me barf!”

“You’re so dramatic!” Sarah yelled, shaking her head at your response “M’not going” 

“It’s from 2-4 and I know you aren’t doing anything, just come! You get to hear the song I’ve been working on for the past week and a half…please” Sarah began, her voice was convincing. Hell, she was always a little too convincing, you couldn’t find it in yourself to ever tell the sweet girl no. You were getting ready to shake your head, giving the girl a guilty look as she pleaded some more, this time she fluttered her eyes at you, hopping off of her bed to come onto yours shaking her hand on your shoulder. “Sorry…Sarah”

“Pleaseee…I’ll make sure Ellie doesn’t bother you!”

Your eyes snapped open. “Out of sight, out of mind — I’ll come” you hissed as Sarah only jumped in excitement, throwing her body down to hug your figure. Making you let out a huff in surprise, followed by a laugh at the sudden weight. It was times like this that you enjoyed with your best friend. The moments where she said yes, and you said no but she’ll change your mind and in the end, remorse wasn’t something you felt. 

But then you thought back to people who weren’t Sarah, the rest of the band…Ellie, your little princess secret wasn’t out yet hell you haven’t even given it the green light. People talk like trees in the wind. It was only a matter of time before the tabloids got sold a story and your face was plastered on every newspaper. 

JNU PRIDE? Princess of Glendale goes to Jackson U

Princess of Glendale likes to kiss girls!

Princess of Glendale…party monster?

Your brain combusted at the thought of seeing you headlining the news with some obnoxious title. You dreaded it — looming over you like a giant storm cloud. You shoved Sarah off of you, staring at the girl with your pinky out, “Can you promise me something?” You started, eyes full of seriousness and a fury like no other, you were no longer laughing. 

“You cannot tell anyone [Ellie?] not even Ellie, about my princess duties…not yet, I’ll do it on my own.”

Sarah now was mirroring your serious expression, kissing her pinky softly before wrapping it around your own with great force and weight.

“You’re secret safe with me…Princess”

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

Somewhere along the way you were sure anyone could see the steam blowing out of your ears in anger. Sarah, while convincing, was not convincing enough. You should have opted out. Sitting on the rundown sofa in the band’s garage, You were certain Ellie was going to snap your head off. Part of you wondered why you still didn’t like the girl, was it her cockiness, overly large ego, or the way her hair shined like a fresh berry in the sun, or the constellation-like freckles on her—

“What are you doing her– is that my sweater?” the redhead rolled her eyes while tuning her guitar. Ellie’s eyes looked you up and down, slowly tracing her eyes from the pearl white knee-high socks, and black mini skirt before landing on the blue graphic crewneck you wore. Her once soft gaze now hardened, as if she suddenly had the realization of where the two of you stood. 

“This is not yours…it’s Sarah’s” You snap, crossing your arms across your chest. Ellie was next to you on the couch, The familiar scent of cigarettes and wood drowning your nostrils, it was intoxicating. Like fumes of a fire.

“...and where do you think Sarah got it from?” Ellie responded with a condescending tone in voice. She was pushing your buttons today, maybe slightly harder than she actually does. 

“I Don’t remember you being such a —”

“Such a what–”

You paused. Ellie looked away from her guitar to now glaring at you. Ellie’s hand was up to her ear, queuing that she was listening, eyebrows raising slightly. Your lips sealed tightly, as you sunk your body into the couch, trying to camouflage yourself from her vision. The room suddenly felt small. Air thick almost choking you.

“Thought so” Ellie spat, dismissing you with her hand while she continued to tune her guitar. Bitch, you muttered under your breath, now looking around to see if Sarah suddenly decided to make her re-entry. “Heard that”

The room was silent once more. The strumming of Ellie’s fingers hitting the G or the B chords filled the room, assisted by your small coughs. You could feel her body heat radiating to you, despite being so close yet so far on the couch – a noticeably large gap between the two of you. 

Ellie now rested her guitar flat on her lap, digging through her pockets and taking out a black light, along with a pack of Marlboro reds. Placing the toxin between her lips – cupping her free hand to block the wind from the flame. Ellie shook her head to herself as she exhaled the smoke.

“How are you?” she questioned out of the blue, tucking the lighter back in her pocket.

This was weird. Highly, extremely weird. The two of you bickered so much that you forgot what a normal conversation with her felt like. “How was your day?” was enough to break the ice, it surely was better than a “go home” or some outrageous insult she could think of. She was making small talk. Cheap chat.

“Fine…yeah I’m alright” you mumbled bringing a finger up to your mouth, chewing away at the flesh surrounding your nail. The pregnant silence filled the air again, Ellie’s bracelet jingled as she brought the cigarette to and from her mouth. Her left leg now bouncing up and down. “How…about you?”

Your eyes darted to the cigarette, watching as it burned quickly, the ashes building up, while Ellie would wait for the ash to build before cutting it away in the tray. 

“Fuckin’ fine too…” Ellie’s raspy voice wavered, almost as if she wasn’t trying to convince you more so herself. Her sudden movements were screaming that there was something that she wanted to say. The pace of her leg bouncing sped up while she also flipped the lid of her cigarette box opened and closed, almost feening for another stick in her mouth – perhaps the whole box.

“You don’t…look fine” You challenge, tilting your head at the girl next to you.

“Thanks, captain, fuckin’ obvious…not that you would care though” Ellie combatted, blowing the cigarette smoke away from your face. This time her hand was tangled in her hair, threading her fingers through her hair before pushing them back out and to the nape of her neck. 

You shrugged “M-Maybe I do…” 

“Oh sure, you do” Ellie laughed sarcastically, putting out the end of her cigarette, followed by a cough.

“You fuckin pry to everyone around you…or just me?” Ellie was getting mean. She didn’t mean to, the delivery of everything she would say getting more aggressive, and that was frustrating her even more. The girl swore she was working on being a better communicator – requested by Sarah who had to check Ellie for everything she said.

“Yeah, I totally pry to fucking bitchy assholes!” You yelled at Ellie. The tone of the room was shifting, the hostility growing back with swiftness.

“You and your prissy little attitude…”Ellie began, shaking her head as she turned her body this time to look at you, shrugging off the guitar from her lab, instead placing it next to the couch “You think Abby would have put up with how much of a brat you act?... Sorry Princess don’t think so” Ellie finished, clenching her jaw as she let out a heavy sigh.

“So this is what it’s about? Abby?” Your voice was harsh, as your body was also facing Ellie, this time the gap between the two of you was closing.

“Who— what the fuck? Who said this was [you did!] the fuck? I didn’t, [you literally said that!]  I mentioned Abby [which was months ago!]...shut up! and you got selfish [and you’re not?] Yeah actually!” the two of you were going back and forth this time. Talking over each other as your voices got louder and louder. Abruptly ending as Ellie reached out to grab your shoulders to get you to stop speaking.

“Get off!” You shouted. Tugging at Ellie’s hands – they only seemed to get tighter.

“Listen, I think…in some other shitty universe we truly could have gotten along with each other…you wouldn’t hate me and I wouldn’t hate you.” Ellie slipped, vulnerability spilling out of her mouth like water, that was the last straw.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Why do YOU hate me?” Ellie was silent at your question, but it gave you everything you need to know. You kissed your teeth, laughing to yourself as you shook your head in disappointment.

“Well I’m glad it isn’t this one” you responded. Your voice was like a smack to the face. Ellie’s hands fell limp at your shoulders, loosening their weight now giving you room to peel them off as you stood up from the couch. After a quick smooth-out to your skirt, and grabbing the black purse that was next to you, all Ellie could do was watch as your figure walked further and further away. 

As you opened the door, Sarah was now making her grand return, occupied by her cell phone but pulling you aside. From all Ellie could see, was your urgency to leave, Her fingers found their way to her lips rubbing them as she cursed under her breath. Sarah shifted her head to lock eyes with Ellie, Narrowing them. Making Ellie quickly turned into her seat sinking in the chair, bringing her hands up to shield her head. Ellie’s head was rushing – like a file cabinet with disorganized folders. Your absence was sealed with the slam of the door behind you, making Ellie exhale.

Sarah cleared her throat, anger deep in her voice, “Ellie what did you do?” 

Ellie exploded, “FUCK!” 

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

“Straighten your spine, chin up, relax the shoulders” 

This time, you were at your Grandmother’s Mansion It was almost impossible to relax when all you could think about was Ellie’s words to you prior. Her words played in your brain like a broken VCR, your body tensing at the thought of it. The hunch you had of the rebellious girl hating you plagued your thoughts, did she really mean that? Whilst you might have disliked the girl for her abrupt change in attitude you certainly didn’t hate Ellie. Your heart tore at the fact that she visibly felt the opposite.

“Princess, where is your head?...” your grandmother shouted with concern, you still couldn’t focus on your princess training lessons. Shrugging the book off of your head, used to control your posture, now choosing to place it in your lap as you sat next to your grandmother by the outdoor water fountain. 

“Dear, should we cut to tea time [No! Let’s keep going]…?”

“I don’t think I could do this” you exhaled, fiddling your fingers on top of the book. You didn’t wanna cut yourself short, but all you could do was hermit and hide yourself away. All for some petty argument. 

“Do what, dear?”

“This Princess…stuff – all respect! But I just don’t think it’s for me” you concluded, your words left a bitter taste in your mouth, putting your head down while you refused to look at your grandmother. You knew her face would be frowning, the wrinkles on her face exaggerating her apparent disappointment, displaying every bit of her age. Your hands started to grip your skirt, twisting and turning the fabric before finding a strand of thread, pulling the lining through as white web-like thread pooled in your hands.

“Okay…What’s wrong? Boy or Girl drama?” Your grandmother asked as if she was onto your behavior – She was reading you like a book. Her frail and boney hands reached over to grab at yours to stop you from pulling the threads of your skirt. You rubbed your gloss lips together, feeling the sticky substance provide you with mild comfort. 

“Do you think I’m hateable…Grandma?” You blurted out, voice small, barely coming out as a whisper, snaking your hand tightly to your grandma’s that was on top of yours. The older woman gave your hand a squeeze “Oh dear, that’s nonsense – you are wonderful! Slightly rough around the edges, but you are an amazing daughter, I’m sure you’ll make an excellent princess…an even better lover”

Your Grandmother gave you just the affirmation you needed, negative thoughts whisking away one by one. The elder abruptly stood up, fixing her tiara and pantsuit holding one arm out in front of you.

“Let’s walk, we have a lot to chat about” Her English accent was thick but she sounded elegant and proper. Great care and delicacy came with her voice. You followed her footsteps locking your arm with hers. The two of you walk through the courtyard, moving at a slow pace but perfect enough for the older woman to give you a lecture.

“The royal ball is this Saturday, followed by your induction ceremony on Sunday, I would like to know your decision” She discussed to which you let out a groan. The truth was you hadn’t made a decision yet, drowning yourself in academic work and the Ellie drama, it surely was the last of things you wanted to be focused on. 

“I–”

“I know what you’re thinking, your father was the same way too.” Your lips folded into each other at the mention of your father. You didn’t quite know the man, hell after his death your mother never mentioned him. Living with your mother in the refurbished firehouse, haunted by the pictures of him that felt like a pure imagination – Nothing other than a dream. No letter, no heirloom, nothing. But this certainly was something, right?

“You know Y/n you are just like him, even down to the looks – a spitting image of that man” Your grandma started, making you tilt your head at the analogy, “But what makes you different is your honesty, your father never knew what he wanted, except for the fact that he was adamant on trading royalty for a mundane type of love”

“He abandoned the throne?” You mumbled, looking away from your grandmother and facing the greenery in the garden. Tough conversations come at the time that you felt were improper. This was really not the conversation you were in the mood to have. Did she think you’d do the same?

The elder bit her tongue, “In simple terms, yes” A heavy sigh escaped your lips – not failing to go unnoticed by the older woman alongside you. “But I have a proposal for you…” Your grandmother began, this made your ears perk up, stopping her walk so you could hear her loud and clear. Perhaps if it wasn’t for the obnoxiously pollinated shrubs triggering your allergies, you could have heard her better.

“I think it would be great for you to find a date for the ball” Your eyes went wide almost like two tennis balls. There was no way that you would find one. Sarah had a date with some guy Saturday, and your other friend Dina had mumbled something about band practice. It just seemed near impossible. In full honesty, you’d rather be alone.

“Grandma, if I’m being honest…I don’t have anyone” You confess shyly, rubbing your hands at your temples and feeling the faint pulse come along. Certainly, Tylenol or a bandaid couldn’t fix the issue you were having.

“Your presence is still expected…I hope you think about it well, Princess”

If you thought you were dead, you certainly would have so wished now. The faint noise of whispered arguing filled your ears – muffled but with bass, while your head was tucked into a pillow. It almost sounded like bees gossiping in a hive. Noisy and irritant. All the noise seemed to stop when you let out a groan, twisting your body to face the white wall. Despite being in your sleepy state, the presence of warm bodies didn’t fail to interrupt the intimate moment you were having with your sheets. Your eyes fluttered open, blurry vision adjusting with a rub to the delicate skin around your eyes – body sitting up with vastness. Turning towards Sarah’s bed, your body jolted at the sight in front of you. Sarah sitting on her bed, staring at you with concern – Ellie to her left, looking at you with fear and sadness. Ellie was giving a pity look, and she never gave one of those. Something was wrong. 

“What’s wrong with you both? Why do you look like that?” You snapped, the silence was overbearing. Uncomfortable almost. Snatching the bonnet off of your head, which dropped the silky blown-out silk press you had gotten done yesterday. Reaching over to your desk to grab the pink hair brush to smooth out your hair. It is still silent – still,  from Sarah and Ellie’s end as they watched every movement you made, in fear almost. This was starting to frustrate you.

“Okay, seriously what’s up?” You grimaced, hopping off of your dorm bed to look at the alarm clock on your desk, seeing 9:45am flash repeatedly. The two were acting weird. Sarah gave Ellie a guilty glance, her lips parted as her blue orbs made their way back to you.

“Have you seen the news?” Sarah blurted out making Ellie tilt her head in irritation, “God Sarah shut up!” Ellie yelled, trying to silence the blonde next to her. Ellie gave you a nervous look, twirling the bracelet on her tattooed wrist. Clenching her jaw, Ellie now shielded her body away from you.

You squint your eyes at Sarah, “What news?” You question, “By the way, where the fuck is my phone? It’s literally nowhere to be found.”

Ellie dug her hand into her pocket pulling out your sleek phone covered in a pink protectant case – Why did Ellie have your phone? You speed walked over to the green-eyed girl, reaching to grab the device only making Ellie pull it higher from your reach.

 “Ellie seriously” You whined, Your body almost falling on top of Ellie’s as she tried to hide your phone away from your hands. The two of you almost dancing, You would reach with one hand, and Ellie would dodge it by moving in the opposite direction of your hand. Ellie threw your phone onto your bed, the device landing with a loud thud as her hands caught your waist before you could run off. Squirming underneath her touch, you couldn’t stay still until she dug her nails into your waist making you scream.

“Ow! Fuck you! E–”

“Tell her Sarah” Ellie was giving Sarah a pissed look as she held you tightly at the waist. Your eyes darted from Sarah to Ellie, back to Sarah once more, “Now!”

“--Someone leaked your secret – Everyone knows that you’re a P-Princess!” Sarah yelled out, pushing her phone in front of your face. Making you halt all movement in your body. The words that flew out of her mouth made you dizzy, a queasy feeling washing over your body as the urge to double over and chuck out yesterday’s dinner lingered. Your body tensed in Ellie’s hands as your back fell against her chest – Ellie holding you upright, rubbing circles at your waist. This was foreign. Ellie showing sympathy to you, it felt weird to have her hands on your body again after the roof-top incident. But you didn’t give yourself time to process it for long, “W-What?”

This time you snatched her phone from her hands,  looking at the articles in front of you. They were creepy photos, stalker-like almost. As if you had been watched for weeks. Photos of you on campus with Sarah, yearbook photos from high school, even you leaving your grandmother’s mansion. The titles were just as obnoxious. 

“ROYAL LIVES ON! FIRST SPOTTING OF GLENDALE’S NEW SOON-TO-BE PRINCESS!”

“BFF’S FOREVER? INSIDE SCOOP OF THE PRINCESS’S LIFE AT JNU”

“Nononono” You rambled, scrolling through each article that only seemed to be never-ending. Your face was attached to these articles. HD pictures at that. You were exposed to the world. Assed out. Everyone knew what you couldn’t even understand yourself. 

Your worst nightmare was coming true, and there was nothing you could do to stop it, especially with the Spring Festival happening today. It was the perfect recipe for disaster. Recalling Ellie’s hands at your waist, you shrugged the girl off in irritation as Ellie eyed your figure that was now pacing.

“This is bad! Like I’m screwed…Fuck Sarah, I’m so screwed” You ranted to your best friend, sadness turning to anger like a flip of a switch. “Hell, this article is wrong! I didn’t even say yes yet! It wasn’t my decision” You were on the verge of tears. 

“I didn’t choose the throne!” you cried out again, this time sitting on your bed holding your head in your hands. Your cat, Mittens, ran to Sarah’s lap, resting his head on Sarah’s leg while letting out slow purrs. 

“Sarah, Is she okay?” Ellie whispered, this time sincerity ran through her voice, as she looked at her sister this time, almost begging for directions on what to do. It wasn’t like Ellie to show that she cared, hell most would have thought she would have gained some satisfaction sentiment at the sight of seeing your world collapse, but it felt the opposite. Ellie felt guilty, sick to her stomach at the sight of your panic. Seeing your body rake in sobs, hands gripping at your sheets, tears like a never-ending river, “I don’t think so…I’ve never seen her act like this”

Sarah panicked, bringing her hand up to her mouth at the sight of your panic attack. She was sure if you weren’t stopped the dorm would have been absolutely demolished by the time you reached your cool down. It was true, crying was something you have never done in front of Sarah, hell not even your own mother. Your cool exterior was deteriorating, feeling your body suddenly lose control of itself, head spinning – nothing made sense anymore.

Sarah croaked, “Ellie…” making Ellie jump up from her position at the edge of Sarah’s bed rushing over to your figure. Ellie didn’t care if you were upset with her anymore, nor did the redhead care if you hated her. She didn’t want this for you. She wasn’t entirely an asshole.

Ellie did not care if you were going to fight her – potentially smack her for still being in your space, in this moment Ellie wanted to do something right, at least ease the fear that grew in your fiery heart. Ellie sat on your bed, applying her calloused fingers onto your shaky ones, giving a firm grip to your hand – detaching slightly as her hand trailed up your spine, moving your hair out from your face. Tingles exploded through your body at her sudden presence. 

“Can you look at me…please?” Ellie’s voice was gentle. Different from her raspy aggressive tone that she consistently gave you. Your head was still facing towards your lap, but Ellie’s voice was enough to drive you out of the dreamy haze you were in, each inhale you took could be heard loudly through the room. A hand shot up to your heart. 

“I can’t breathe…fuck– I can- I can’t” you whimpered making. Ellie squeeze her eye shut, cursing under her breath as she tapped herself back into the situation. 

“Sarah, can you give us a sec?” Ellie was almost begging her sister, Her hands rubbing circles in your back, while she looked across at Sarah’s nervous state. Sarah nodded, getting off of the bed to slide her slippers on her feet. Gently putting her key lanyard around her neck – Sarah headed for the door, closing it softly behind her. 

Ellie took the click of the door locks the opportunity to slide her hoodie off, leaving Ellie in a white tee. Recalling what she was learning in her anger management classes, something about controlling breaths and taking a step back to breathe – deciding now would be a good time to use the breathing exercises she learned. 

Ellie dipped her body weight towards yours, her cool bare skin touching yours that was slightly warm, Your hand was entangled around your heart, practically scratching the fabric that was your lace tank top. Ellie pulled your body into a full hug, which at first you resisted, but the thumping of your heart slowed with applied pressure. “Okay breathe in and out…slowly” Ellie instructed.

You followed her exact words. Head buried into her chest as you continued the breathing exercises, following the tone of her voice. “Good job, Angel, you’re doing such a great job, one more time for me” Ellie led the breathing exercises, as she inhaled implying for you to follow suit, which you did. Closing with a prolonged exhale.

Ellie pried your body away from hers. Not caring that your body was sticky from the pool of thick sweat that ran down your forehead. Ellie stopped to eye your face, which was in a calmer state than before but she could still see the jittering from your body.

“We are gonna try something, I know you’re not a fan of me…but I really need you to trust me, I’ll never let you down, nothing’s gonna hurt you while I’m here” Ellie muttered, she was pleading you. Her voice was wobbly as she did so. God, Ellie would never say it out loud, but she was concerned, and worried for you. The freckled face girl just wanted you to be at ease. “I want you to list 5 things you can see in this room”

You pointed at your cat on the floor “Uh…Mittens”

That’s one.

You winced before continuing to try to find objects to focus on.

“My Hairbrush”

That’s two.

“Your bracelet”

That’s three.

“The mole on your cheek…underneath your eye”

That’s four. 

“Come on baby, you’re doing so good for me…one more” Ellie praised, running her hand along your cheek.

“Your, eyes they–they’re a nice washy paled green”

Finally, five.

“Good job! Should we keep going?” Ellie was gentle – careful as if you were a piece of glass, but as much as you wanted to bicker with Ellie in front of you, you couldn’t find it in yourself to do so. But how close her body was to you and her ability to set your mind at ease was impressive. 

You shook your head no, feeling a lot calmer than you have prior. Feeling the faint mixture of cotton and satin from the comforter on your bed, the hand that was around your chest loosened up, and the air was becoming clearer. You were getting grounded, the blurry haze that was your vision vanishing.

“Can I say one more thing” Ellie spoke up amidst the silence, “...I still don’t like you” you grumbled in between breaths, pulling your hair out of your face and behind your ears. Your tender laugh rang Ellie’s ears, making her do the same –  Ellie rolled her eyes at your statement. Despite traveling through a panic attack you were the same old girl whose dislike didn’t seem to budge. 

“Yeah, yeah…no you don’t”

“‘cause you hat—”

“Not anymore…maybe a dislike?…I don’t know I just, I-I think I owe that much to you” Ellie snapped. The tone of the room shifted back to seriousness. Ellie was getting vulnerable, throwing in the white towel, this was the moment she was certainly sure she didn’t wanna drag her dislike towards you anymore. The more she thought about it, she really didn’t hate you at all. Ellie was unraveling the tuff knot she made of dislike that she had balled up for you, pealing each layer back like a tangerine. It was all a facade, as her therapist called it. Just a way for her to mask her emotions and put a wall up for anyone who came a little too close to stimulating emotions other than sadness or anger. It was her fear holding her back. Your name was certainly dropped in her anger management classes hearing the same words that would leave Sarah’s mouth. 

You don’t truly hate her, you love her but you’re too emotionally immature to deal with it.

You paused on the bed. Looking at Ellie in full this time, noticing that the girl next to you had discarded the hoodie she was wearing prior, and the conflicted scowl that rested on her face. That similar bitter look that you loved to give, yourself. Ellie was deep in thought, finding comfort in the silence that the two of you were sharing. 

You smacked your lips, 

“You know I have a ridiculous Royal Ball to go to – and no date?...my grandma was like bring somebody for comfort, and I…I realized I didn’t really have anyone, I mean of course I have Sarah and Dina but I’d go to my first ball with other royal people of the world and I’ll be entirely alone…God, I don’t know why I’m telling you this” you confess, almost laughing at the way the words were spilling out of your mouth.

 Ellie was attentive, listening to every word you said.

“You know you have me right…I know I didn’t do a good job of making it known before…sorry- this is really hard for me…” Ellie started, puffing out her cheeks to exhale large sums of air – letting the bubble formed by her cheeks deflate. Ellie rubbed her hands on her thighs, up – and down before giving her legs a final squeeze, 

“You look like you really need a friend right now, and I…I want to help you, of course your still fuckin’ annoying but let me help you…I don’t expect you to say yes, but…” Ellie cut herself short pausing to control her own breathing while you took this opportunity to speak.

“Ellie, I never thought in my entire 4 years of college that I would be asking you this, but what are the odds that you could be my fake date to the Ball?... It’s all pretend, you just have to act like you like me and we can go our separate ways” You reason, crossing your fingers as you dug them into the sheet to be hidden from Ellie’s field of vision. Ellie however caught the crossing of your fingers, darting her dilating pupils to her tattoo, rubbing a hand at the inked sinking into her skin.

“Can I wear a suit?” Ellie pondered, which brought a smile to your face. Ellie made you smile. “Wait…are you smiling at me?”

“No…I’m smiling at Mittens” you coughed, “behind you…”

“I’m just fucking with you…yeah I am”

“Well…stop fucking doing that you’re creeping me out!” Ellie whined, shrugging her body away from yours. Ellie didn’t wanna admit it but your smile was comforting. It made her want to give one back. Feeling her cheekbones stretch at the possibility of her chapped lips curling into a smile. It was foreign but for once Ellie didn’t feel entirely terrible for wanting to do it.

“Yes, Ellie you can wear a suit, even if you showed up in sweats I wouldn’t care…uh thank you for this!” you beamed with a twinkle in your eye. 

“Don’t mention it” Ellie sealed. Giving you a light nudge on the shoulder. There was more silence to fill the air. But the air wasn’t thick anymore, and it didn’t feel like you had to walk on eggshells around anyone – the cloudy sky that was a room when you and Ellie coexisted faded away into a bright sun with a rainbow. You were pulled out of your thoughts at the sound of knocking on the door. This made your heart thump in fear watching the way the slender beige wood bounced with each pound. 

“Guys! Uh… hate to ruin the moment but Spring Fest starts in 30 minutes and the band needs to warm up!” Sarah shouted from the other side of the door, making Ellie curse under her breath. Getting up from your bed as she ran to Sarah’s dresser to get her car keys. 

“See you Sun–”

“Saturday, Ellie…”

“Right, right see you Saturday, your highness” Ellie was panting, out of breath as she did a shitty bow before bolting to the door and meeting Sarah that was on the other side. As the door clicked closed you could hear the faint sound of Sarah and Ellie bickering – their voices fading away as they got further and further away from the door. Letting out a heavy sigh of relief. Ellie’s signature scent lingered as the room suddenly felt cold at the absence of bodies. 

Your body fell back bouncing against the mattress as Mittens crawled on top of a dark piece of fabric making you squint at the sudden dark material contrasting your pink sheets. It was Ellie’s sweater – shooing Mittens off of the sweater, you held the material in your hands, stroking the embroidery on the front. Pulling up the sweater to your nose where the scent of her cologne lingered, assisted with the faint tinge of dated tobacco.

Holding the fabric close to your chest, giving it a squeeze in your hands, as if you were giving it a hug. The smell helps to ease the come down from your panic attack, feelings of fear, and anxiety decaying. Ellie was helping you, in a lot of ways – and she didn’t even realize it.

 You hated how her scent was enough to ground you and connect you back to reality from your overwhelming thoughts. It felt like a big game of chess, Ellie knocking over your king piece and swapping it out for one of hers.

She was starting to conquer your thoughts, but no longer in a negative connotation, your thoughts of her were evolving into adulation.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

Saturday.

The mansion was busy this evening, servants and security moving fast while the decoration team had run through the two-story home being careful not to knock over the statues or fine-dining utensils. Meanwhile, you were sitting in your newly acclaimed bedroom, amidst the chaos. The room was previously your father's, remodeled for your benefit and appointing to the throne. 

Your delicate hands slid the thick short dress onto your body. It was pink and white, synching at the waist – corset style, with the ruffles and layers of white fabric peeking beneath. There was a slight sparkle to the material on your body – feeling it cling tightly as specks of glitter got onto your gleaming moisturized skin. The assistant that was hired to assist in getting you ready for the ball pulled at the strings of your corset, applying pressure to tighten them. 

With each pull back, your thoughts trailed off to Ellie – her suit, and what she would possibly wear tonight. You were undoubtedly nervous, having Royal officials meet you for the second time, which you hoped would go better than the first – but this time with the news out of everything about you. There was no more hiding who you truly were anymore. They would likely gossip about your GPA over a glass of prosecco. 

“Princess…Is everything alright?” the assistant questioned as she snapped her fingers in front of your face making you jolt at the release of pressure.

“yeah…I’m alright – sorry…just thinking” you reply sheepishly, turning around to give her a gentle smile. 

“Don’t apologize for thinking, it’s your first big day out of two! Plus you have prepared for this moment, and you have made great progress…Your grandmother is proud of you even though she doesn’t tell you, and I’m sure your father would be too”

You smiled at the mention of your Grandmother and her proudness, feeling complete at the abrupt praise. Recalling your father who you felt like you hardly knew but wish you did, building anything you know about him from pictures and stories.

“But I do…have something for you, which I feel is the right time for you to receive.” Your head whipped around almost giving you whiplash as the woman bent down to her folder picking out a white envelope that was sealed with pink wax. 

“This is from your father, it was set to be given to you on your coronation day, but I think you deserve it now…I’ll give you some privacy” holding the flimsy white envelope in your hand, eyeing the molded wax, as your fingers traced across the handwriting that belonged to your father. Hearing the door close, you quickly walked to your vanity, sitting down with your back straight up as you gently slide your finger between the thin paper, prying it open to pull out a letter. 

My little dove,

By the time you are reading this, I may be long gone, or you haven’t met me. Whether your mother chooses to tell you or not, I would like you to know that I love you and am so proud of the progress you have made that you feel goes unnoticed. If the cat is out of the bag, this would then mean that I am talking to y/n l/n metropolis vagn, Princess of Glendale, granddaughter of Elenor Metropolis Vagn, Queen of Glendale. It is a lot to take in, and I have left you with a big responsibility. Your decision will always be yours even if you feel that it is not. 

Weeks prior, leading up to my death I had an intense conversation with your grandmother about the future of the throne. Where it sounds like a curse, I pleaded and I wished that I wanted you to take my rightful place at the throne with my absence. To take my crown, to take my seat at the dinner table, I was giving you everything. I wanted you to have every last thing I owned that I couldn’t be there to give you myself. Royalty is a big thing, and at my age, when I was 17 when I met your mother, I knew that I would have not been in the best of care to run it for long. God when your mother said she was pregnant with you, I knew that she would make a sweet, headstrong but hot-headed child like the both of us. I put trust in you, just seeing the twinkle of your little doe eyes the first day out of the womb, I knew I was looking at the future Princess of Glendale.

I think that it would be wise of me to tell you the story of my first coronation day as Prince. I was late to every meeting, I totally failed at prince practice and balancing a book on my head to learn perfect posture, waved with the wrong hand – I couldn’t even tell my big spoon from my little spoon, or which fork I used first to eat. It was improper and your grandmother was honestly sick of it. I was late…extremely late to my coronation. I took your mother on a date to the gardens that day, We shared our first kiss and it was magical, more magical than the palace walls that I lived in now, it was a deep connection I will never forget. 

I took your mother to the ball, She wore pink to contrast my dark suit, but that didn’t matter. I think we complimented each other well, A pink rose corsage right above my handkerchief pocket oddly complimented too. I wore trainers to my first coronation – it was quite strange. My mother was actually sick of me. I naturally made conversation with the elders, and rulers of other places. But as soon as the crown was placed on my head, I left going with your mother to a drive-in movie while we ate messy cheeseburgers in our formal attire. It was such a sore soft moment, but at that moment I felt like I could have the best of both worlds, which I did – and I want you to know that you could have it too, I made sure of it. 

Now that this is in your possession, I want this to serve as a reminder that you are equally important. More important than some rubbish title that I rather you choose yourself 100 times over nobility. You choose where you would be the most comfortable. You are to be sweet and divine – but don’t let anyone dim your light or take your future and enjoyment away from you.

I hope this serves as a reminder of my love for you, and an appreciation for your progress, can you believe you have made it this far?

With love and acknowledgment,

Your father, Prince of Glendale, removed from the throne to stretch to his offspring.

P.S it’s okay to fall in love, live a little darling! 

Tears prickled your eyes, salted water falling down your face as you took a tissue off of the vanity being careful to dab the water to not ruin your makeup. A laugh escaped your lips, you weren’t crying of sadness you were happy. Genuinely happy.  In other ways, it felt as if your father had been giving you a hug and guiding you right along the way during your moments of doubt. You needed that. His encouragement gave you the extra boost to get you through the next two days, while you were not only battling public recognition but fully devoting yourself to the throne.

 Looking at yourself through the mirror, rolling your head, noting that it was time to fix your hair, which was currently in a half-up half-down look – placing the crystalized small tiara on your head. Sticking the note that Grandma left on the crown saying ‘just a warmup crown ;)’ on the cleaned glass. Your ringtone runs the air, answering swiftly to hear a raspy voice filling the air.

“Princess…I am outside the gate and there is some guy yelling at me that I have the wrong house” You groaned knowing she was definitely talking about Philip who was the same person who gave you a hard time the first time you visited the mansion. “First of all, don’t call me that…second I’ll be there hold tight”

“Hey! I’m—” you cut Ellie off by hanging up the phone with a swift click to the red button. You were nervous to see Ellie, the thought of what she could possibly be wearing stormed your thoughts, imagining a nicely fitting suit on her body, her hair free of any elastic. 

You slid on your pink kitten heals – it was time to put on your acting face. 

Right hand on the door knob, pausing to have a moment with yourself. You imagined that you were on a boat, the boat on sea rocking in the cold cerulean sea splashing its salty wakes against the curvature of the boat. Before a large tide comes in, waves crash — drowning out your boat. Slamming the door open, you pushed yourself forward dragging your body down the steps and being careful to not fall in your heels. 

Right foot…step…left foot…step until you reached the door. 

Waving with your right hand, proper, as your way of saying hello to the decoration team. 1 hour until guest arrival and you were feeling rancid. The morning tea in your veins pumps free adrenaline into you – giving you a slight pep in your step. 

Running in your heels, which was also, unprincess-like, you reached the gate yelling at Philip through the intercom to let Ellie in. Hearing the locks loosening up as the drawback on the door revealed Ellie, in all her glory. She actually showed up…for you. Ellie was wearing a black suit, her white button down peaking under that was slightly open at her chest. Chuck Taylor classics on her feet which made you laugh. Thinking back to your dad's letter about him wearing trainers to his coronation day. You found it funny – ironic almost but expected that Ellie wouldn’t own dress shoes. Your brain headed back to the words your dad has gracefully written.

She wore pink to contrast my dark suit, but that didn’t matter. I think we complimented eachother well

This time, it was your pink dress to contrast her dark suit, and to you, this didn’t matter either. You too thought you complimented each other. Ellie walked with confidence towards you, as she bowed – one hand folded at her stomach the other behind her back as she bend her body down at you, “Your Highness” 

Ellie was waiting for your approval. “God, Ellie…you’re such a kiss ass!” you snickered in amusement finding her figure bowed down before you. “You may stand now.”

“You do that again, I’ll make sure Philip drags you out of here” You finish making Ellie roll her eyes. Her gaze softened at the sight of you, eyes trailing from the tiara on your head down to your dress.

“You’ve looked worse” Ellie shrugged not wanting to fully give you the satisfaction of getting a compliment out of her. Ellie thought you looked stunning, a faint shade of red dusting over her cheeks, as she took in your outfit.

“Geez didn’t know you showered!” You hissed at the girl with a scoff, almost ruining the moment making Ellie throw a hand up in disbelief at your words. “There she is” Ellie sang as if she were expecting this to come out of your mouth any minute. 

You looked at the girl fully this time, her Converse were dirty — of course not that you cared, and her hair was loose from any free restraints. Now noticing the absence of the corsage pinned near her handkerchief pocket, you stumbled across the cigarette that was tucked neatly behind her ear. Mouth tip facing forward.

“No, absolutely not” Ellie was confused by your sudden protesting, trying to swat your hand away as you reached for the cigarette, chucking it into the water fountain next to the two of you. 

“Hey! That—”

“There will be no smoking on the mansion grounds! You hear me! Ellie, I’m so serious and I’m asking you just this once for a solid 5 hours not to” you pleaded. Normally you wouldn’t care but for an event like this with catty old rich people, you wanted to bypass the extra gossip. Ellie let in a dramatic inhale, looking around at the greenery of the yard the two of you were in. 

“Yeah...yeah sure I could do that” Ellie cleared her throat, and her hand was tucked in her pocket — the other at the nape of her neck flicking her hair, she rocked back and forth on her toes. 

“Thank you…” your voice was now at a whisper, Ellie’s eyes were beautiful next to the greenery of the garden, and you were almost enamored by how put together she looked. You didn’t expect her to pull through as well as she did, but you were glad she would at least be there to save you from driving yourself crazy in the mansion. 

You rubbed your glossed lips together, trying to find the right words to say at the moment. “If we are gonna do this, we have to do it the right way or else we totally jeopardize everything — poof! Princess had to hire a fake date, we don’t want that”

Ellie nodded in agreement. You stepped in closer, reaching into Ellie’s handkerchief pocket as you started to explain the rules, reaching for your own dress to detach the corsage that you pinned there on your way out. Taking the delicate rose and threading it slightly above the pocket on her suit. 

The two of your bodies were so close that Ellie could smell your floral and vanilla scent which contrasted with her salted musky wood, making her hitch her throat. The view of your eyes made her slightly antsy at the feeling of your body closer to hers. Instinctively Ellie didn’t know what to do with her hands, panicking as she rested them against the boning of the corset on your waist.

“You can kiss me, though I don’t advise it, hold my hand, walk straight, say excuse me before you end the conversation, no cursing…Stay close to me — it’s very easy to get lost and we don’t want that, no snarky comments, no smoking but you know that, smile” You were speaking fast, Ellie barely catching any of it as she was too busy investing her vision at your hands that were working magic around her suit, slightly doing two buttons for safety. 

“Anything else, Princess”

“Did you even catch any of that?” You question, the faint click of the corsage filling the space between the two of you. Ellie gave you a dopey smile, “Honestly, your tiara was crooked the whole time” 

It was Ellie’s turn to fix you up, slightly centering the tiara on your head with great delicacy, trailing her hands down your face and to your shoulders with an eyebrow raise. You groaned, ignoring the girl, dragging her hand to follow closely behind you. Ellie found part of it to be like a fairy tale dream. The shit that only happens in movies. From the overly large mansion to the obnoxious shrubbery and freshly kept grass it was hard to believe that your grandmother even lived nearby. 

“Don’t speak unless spoken to, and stop slouching you look like a hunchback” You whispered, this time grabbing Ellie’s hand in yours as the two of you walked side by side. Ellie felt a tingle shoot up at her arm at your sudden hand grab, shaking her head slightly to respond to your comment. “Never thought the day would come where you are not only checking my posture…but holding my hand as well, am I going mad?” 

You stopped walking to give her an exasperated look, “really? It’s business” The two of you kept walking, making your way to the dining area — almost reaching the corridor when your grandma stops in front of the two of you. She was giving you a stern look before looking over to Ellie. Flicking her eyes back and forth between the two of you. A faint smile as she looked between the two of you.

“You’re just like your father dear” The elder spoke up, putting her ringed finger up to her mouth in awe. “I know”

Elenor cleared her throat. “So who is your friend” Her field of vision shot to Ellie’s hand that was tightly gripped into yours. The two of your shoulders touching — almost scared shitless.

“Uh, Grandma, this is my girlfriend, Ellie Williams, Ellie this is my Grandma, Elenor the Queen of Glendale” You spoke up gesturing the two to each other, Nudging Ellie with your arm queuing for her to speak. 

“H-h..It’s a pleasure to meet you” Ellie coughed, “Ma’am” Ellie replicated the bow that she had shown you early, this time getting up quicker. Your hand suddenly felt clammy. Realizing that the moisture was not from your hand but from Ellie’s, who had been drowning in anxiousness next to you. So you squeezed it, giving the girl a soft look of reassurance.

“Oh please, you don’t have to bow Ellie! It’s so wonderful to meet you — aren’t you adorable” Your grandma reached over to squeeze Ellie’s cheeks making them a lot redder than they were before.

You winced at the interaction “Grandma…please” you used your free hand to swat hers away, continuing to look around the room to find an escape out. “We actually are going to go to the garden for a bit, have Philip come to fetch us when the guest arrives” 

Giving the woman a faint smile, you drag Ellie away, the redhead trailing behind you like a lost puppy. “Nice meeting you!” Ellie shouted making you shake your head at her outburst.

“And another rule…no yelling” You snapped, walking up to one of the servant trays to steal two glasses of champagne, handing Ellie a glass. The two of you exited through the backyard of the mansion, walking alongside the cobblestone into the garden. It was filled with different kinds of flowers: roses, chrysanthemums, orchids, and hydrangeas. It was a vibrant sight. Enough to make your eyes hurt as the sun was setting. 

Sitting next to the fountain, Ellie doing the same but across from you, you closed your eyes amidst the silence, letting the faint sound of the birds chirping guide you – picking up conversation again.

“Welcome to my world” you sang sarcastically, Ellie didn’t bother to heckle you – rather she took this time to see how many differences the two of you had. Ellie was a troublemaker since she was very young…known for picking fights and consistently butting heads with people. The day Joel brought home an anger management class pamphlet Ellie wanted to scream. It’s not that she didn’t think she had issues but she just couldn’t manage her anger properly – mad at the world consistently and it won’t leave her mind like an exposed wound. So Ellie tried one and tried another – realizing she actually needed to communicate what she was feeling if she wanted to be better. 

Then Ellie thought of you, certainly too good for her, a pretty girl academically smart and soothing in her eyes. That night at the rooftop didn’t make sense to Ellie, it didn’t make sense to her that a girl like you, could like a girl like her. 

“Got a cigarette?”

Ellie snickered “Oh now you want one, I got none for you, I don’t give cigarettes to princesses” Ellie dug into her chest pocket digging inside the fabric to bring out the familiar black lighter and her handy pack of Marlboro reds. Taking out a piece, but your request prior to the ball event made her stop to look at you for approval. “You can have one…go on, smoke it! This is more stressful than I thought”

Ellie shrugged at your response, setting a flame to the burning tobacco, exhaling with ease. You went steady with the champagne, taking a few sips – then larger gulps almost matching the way Ellie was swallowing the cigarette whole.

“Why do you do it?” you questioned. Rotating the liquids in the glass. “Do what?” 

“Smoke” your voice was barely a whisper. Ellie blew out the smoke away from your face – as always before tapping some of the ash away, bringing a hand up to scratch her cheek to really think about what she wanted to tell you. Ellie was going to throw in the white towel again.

“Helps me, uh fixate on something other than the emotion I feel, became like a stabilizer – oral fixation typa shit”

Ellie was honest with you, which you could tell from the tone of her voice, it was serious and she was being transparent. “Oh…” 

You were preparing to bring the champagne glass up to your lips again when Ellie stopped you, snatching the glass from your hand, tossing the leftover liquid onto the floor, “No more for you…Don’t want our Princess drunk now do we”

You rolled your eyes, “It was keeping my body warm” Ellie gave you a side-eye as she began to unbutton her suit jacket, cursing under her breath as she slid the black jacket off of her arms, raising an eyebrow before throwing it at your face “Ow!”

“You’re welcome” This time you didn’t respond, putting the jacket on while putting your arms through the sleeves. Cold arms feel warmer by the feeling of the fabric around you like a blanket. Similar to yesterday morning when Ellie had left her sweater at your dorm. 

“Can we…um” You rubbed your hands together, before locking them together “Can we talk about the night at the rooftop?” Ellie felt her heart sink, putting the cigarette up to her mouth one last time – tapping out the stick to stand up and move closer to where you sat on the brick exterior of the fountain.

“I think I owe that to you..”

You hummed, allowing Ellie to move in close to you, her knee was knocking against your own, as you looked at the girl with such love and admiration despite knowing the hefty conversation that was on the way. Ellie put a hand out to reach for your own, resting her hand in your lap. Webbed through your fingers.

“If I’m being honest…After it happened and my resentment started, I thought about you every night since, I…I think I truly was incapable of being honest with myself and kinda ripping the bandaid off to know that I could be liked. I enjoyed the kiss, do I regret it? Hell fucking no” Ellie began, taking the moment to laugh, “My arguing was a by-product of my flight or fight response absolutely going bonkers at the possibility that Abby could have you or you would reject m–”

“Why would I reject you?”

Ellie blinked rapidly “Sorry…What?”

“I like you! Are you joking, ever since you shook my hand I knew that you were different. But then once the kiss was over, you basically didn’t want anything to do with me, I thought, I made you up in my head” You stroked Ellie’s hand in your lap for comfort, this time Ellie letting go to squeeze your thigh. “The way I imagined you to act was just a result of what I made you to be in my head” You ramble making Ellie nod her head almost ashamed at the way she treated you months prior after the situation dissolved. 

“God I was such an asshole” Ellie winced looking away from you, applying faint pressure to your thigh 

“If you were one then so was I…”

“Did you mean to say ‘I like you’ in the present tense?” Ellie blurted out, eyeing your facial expressions to see if she caught what you were saying right – or if it was a mistake on your part. 

“I did say that didn’t I…” You mumbled, bringing a hand up to your mouth as if you were scrambling to organize your thoughts to prevent yourself from saying anything embarrassing or exposing yourself even further. Ellie’s gaze softened, 

“It’s okay if you did” Ellie whispered, lifting a hand to rub at your cheek. The two of you look at each other longingly. You didn’t say anything further – feeling your body lean into Ellie’s until her lips were directly onto yours, closing all gaps between the two of you. Her peppermint moisturized lips locked with your own, feeling Ellie’s hands shoot up to your face for extra support. The kiss was long, the two of you not being to detach from each other, the kiss was a hungry one. Ellie’s tongue grazed yours as the kiss got deeper…and deeper. A splash of the water from the fountain made the two of you abruptly pull away, shaky breathes as the two of you stared at each other for a prolonged period of time, there was no more hatred left in Ellie’s eyes and you knew she didn’t feel the instant regret like she felt the night of the roof-top.

“You gonna tell me to not tell anyone” you whisper to Ellie, giving a slight nudge at what happened the last time the two of you shared a kiss

“I’ve learned my lesson…I’m not hiding you” Ellie spoke softly, bringing a hand up to stroke your cheek. The soft moment between the two of you is ruined by the clear of the throat, to reveal Philip in all black standing in front of the two of you. The two of you jumped away from each other as you looked at the ground embarrassed.

“Now that the two of you have stopped macking, the Queen has requested your return there are some people she would like you to meet” Philip states bluntly, turning on his heel to walk away from the two of you. Ellie and yourself give each other a glance before letting out a fit of laughs at the awkwardness of the situation. Ellie stands up, putting a hand out for you to grab allowing her hand to help you stand up. 

With Your hand around Ellie’s everything suddenly felt like it was moving into place, no more need to stress or panic – it felt natural. As the two of you walked through the garden you thought about your dad's letter in admiration, you wanted the best of both worlds and you sure as hell got it.

“Hey, Ellie?” you whispered as Ellie only hummed in response.

“Wanna leave early after this and grab some food?” 

[weeeeeekly]

the inheritance – hybrid!ot5 txt x human gn!reader

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blurb !!! Your grandmother left behind her home to you in her will. As a recent college grad, you take on the responsibilities – you never expected to find 5 hybrids living in your new home

info !!! gender neutral pronouns for reader, no reader body shape mention, no use of y/n, non-idol au, hybrid au, strangers to lovers, ot5 txt x reader, kinda a/b/o, inspired by the monster’s bride webtoon, ppulbatu, & txt lore (please do not ask me about it bcuz I don’t know anyyyythingg)

WARNINGS !!! SFW but MDNI 18+ blog, swearing, not proofread just pure free flowing thought, wouldn’t recommend reading if you were close to your grandmother, she passed away, & are still grieving

wc 1.2k

author’s note !!! if you don’t like it – don’t read it!

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CHAPTER TWO

You’re sitting on the couch as you stare up at the 5 men. Well, 5 men with animal ears and tails: a 6-foot tall man brown hair and floppy white dog ears on top of his head (the one that slept next to you), a man with black hair and white fox ears that were too big for him (a new face), another man with black hair and smaller white dog ears on top of his head (part of the pair sleeping on the top bunk), a shorter man with brown hair and gray cat ears (the other half of the pair), and the 6-foot tall man with blonde hair with golden dog ears on top of his head (the one that tackled you).

Now that the adrenaline had worn off and the fear slowly dissipated from your body, you realize that the situation at hand was unusual.

Every fiber in your being was screaming at you to get the fuck away from this house and them once your brain put the pieces together that they were hybrids.

If owning an exotic pet was illegal then one can imagine how much more illegal it would be to own an exotic hybrid. You didn’t even know that hybrid species expanded past the usual pets like dogs, cats, and bunnies. You didn’t even know anyone that owned hybrid due to how expensive it is to even place an application let alone pay the fees to own one. The news would sometimes showcase when a celebrity got one and the gossip channels would give updates on them, usually not-so-happy endings for the hybrid pets that were either abandoned or worse.

You always believed, and still do, that the system of owning hybrids was out-of-this-world. Either buying, which made you uncomfortable, or adopting. Most hybrid facility didn’t even have to follow a code of conduct due to the nature of human and animal parts, so there were many loopholes in the laws and legality.

One of the legalities being that no one could own a hybrid without properly processed paperwork, up-to-date wellness checkups, and a license.

“Is this some kind of elaborate Halloween prank? I don’t have time for this.” You glance to your phone that shows the time and you were going to be very late to work if you didn’t leave in the next 5 minutes. “I really don’t have time for this.”

You walk back to your room to get your stuff ready, realizing that you won’t be able to do your usual morning routine and will ultimately have a bad day. All 5 of them start talking over each other with only a few shared words that you picked up on “run away” and “scared”.

Once you’re ready, you walk back downstairs to the front door and turn back to them.

“I’m going to work. I’ll be back by 6 PM. Please stay inside and don’t do anything crazy.”

One of the tall ones speaks up, “Okay.”

You shoot them a smile and walk out, locking the door.

Your entire day goes by too slowly for your liking. This was your usual shift 9 to 5 at the local post office, but it felt like it was your first day despite working this job for over a year. You kept mixing up the mail while sorting — almost giving your coworker the wrong mail for their delivery run. Embarrassingly, you accidentally stamped a few letters upside down when you were thinking over the events that happened earlier today.

On your lunch break, you call your friend for a favor.

🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾

Getting back to your grandmother’s house, you’re not expecting the one of the strangers to bring you into a hug as soon as you open the door.

“You’re back.”

You awkwardly pat the back of the guy, “Uh, yeah I said that I would be back.”

Trying to get out from the hug, the boy just hugs you tighter so you sigh and shuffle forward. When you reach the kitchen, the other 4 shocked faces look back at you.

“Can someone please get him off me?”

Before you finish your sentence the two tall members pull him away.

“Beomgyu, stop it.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

The tall brunette glares at the guy as the tall blonde smiles at you apologetically. You smile back as you sidestep around the others to open a bag of your favorite chips.

“Can you guys help me bring my stuff in?”

The guys don’t let you touch any of your stuff saying “it’s heavy and this is the least they can do”. You don’t argue since you were dreading to bring items from the rental trailer to upstairs. You just tell them where to put it in your room as you sit on your sleeping bag and continue eating chips. They finish helping you setting up the basics in your room in under 2 hours.

“Do you guys want to order in and then have a proper conversation?”

They all agree as you begin listing off places to order takeout from settling on a local pizzeria that made your favorite pizza.

After the pizzas had been eaten and their situation had been explained, they sit on your bed as you pace in front of them.

“Okay, all of 5 of you were from the same facility and while you were being transported to a new facility the truck flipped over during a thunderstorm and you guys escaped. Then you found this house that was abandoned and made this your home. Is that right?”

A chorus of “yeah”s are your response as you frown.

“How did you guys survive all this time?”

“We, um, stole out of necessity.”

“Only twice a month at night.”

“For how long?”

“2 years…”

You shut your eyes and sigh as you get your phone out, texting one of your best friends for a huge favor as the group look nervously at each other.

🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾

After making some arrangements, you turn back to your new… roommates to explain, “Tomorrow afternoon, a trusted friend is coming by to give you all a wellness checkup. Make sure everyone’s okay.”

They nod as you force yourself to calm down as they could probably sense your elevated blood pressure and heartbeat. You grit your teeth into a smile as you realize that they look like models lounging on your bed.

“I don’t want this to be a bad memory and I trust new people too much, but would it be okay if I took a picture of you guys?”

They agree and look like models as you take a picture on your phone. A real smile spreads across your face as you look at the result.

“Oh!” You smack your forehead, “Almost forgot to introduce myself.”

You tell them your name as they reciprocate. You make sure to make direct eye contact as they go one-by-one to match their name to their face.

“It’s nice to meet you guys, properly, I’m going to go to bed soon so.”

You hope they pick up on the hint that you want to be left alone and Taheyun picks up on it as his eyebrow raises.

“We should go back downstairs.”

The group file out of the room as you mouth him a “thank you” and go to the bathroom to change. But when you come back, a fox and maltese are curled up on your bed.

“I’ll let it slide only for tonight.”

masterlist | previous | next

author’s note thank you for all the love on this series!! i was not expecting that.

i will edit when i’m back on a computer. apologies, but still just writing on my phone.

[treason-and-plot]

OC QUESTIONNAIRE PART 6

I was tagged for the 6th and final time by the fabulous @frostedshore, thank you for thinking of me! This time I chose Anita's bff and Saffron's step-grandmother, Renee.

Name: Renee Valerie Woods Nickname: She used to be known as The Milf back in the day, and her husband still calls her Milfie as a term of endearment. Gender: Female Star sign: Leo Height: 5’6" Orientation: N/A Nationality/Ethnicity: Sim Favorite Fruit: Lychees Favorite Season: Summer Favorite Flower: Freesias Favorite Scent: Yves Saint Laurent's Black Opium Coffee, Tea, or Hot Chocolate: Strong black coffee Average Hours of Sleep: 8 Dogs or Cats: Neither Dream Trip: A culinary tour of the world's top restaurants (Renee owns a successful catering business and fancies herself as a bit of a foodie) Number of Blankets: 25, and they are all made from the woven pubic hair of her ex-lovers. Random Fact: Renee's exact age is a mystery, but she could be aged anywhere from her mid 50s to late 60s. As she's fond of observing: "I don’t plan to grow old gracefully. I plan to grow old disgracefully, and have face-lifts until my ears meet.”

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Promises Three: Subtle Dreaming

Dark!Morpheus x (female)reader, fantasy/medieval AU, 18+

Master List

Dream of the Endless had been promised a bride.

Chapter track: Rainbow - The Temple of the King - Algal the Bard

It has been... a rough couple weeks. But I'm back! Hope you enjoy! Your comments and questions mean the world! Special thanks to all you lovely rebloggers! I'm still trying to figure out how to respond without essentially reposting half a dozen times, but I see you, you make my week!

Subtle Dreaming

A knock on the door disturbed her work. It was an hour past midnight, when all but the youngest servants and ardent lovers had retired to their beds with heads full of dreams, a time a wandering mice and cat’s work.

But she wasn’t surprised, even less when she opened the door of her windowless chamber to find a young lady in her nightdress, wrapped in a shawl with wary hope in her eyes and a candle in her hand. Alis Everard. The youngest of a large family, and the only child still unmarried – and a child she was, barely thirteen, and of all the reasons the bard hated the king of Meiren, summoning such young suitors for his Endless guest might be the greatest. Her face hadn’t quite lost childhood’s rounded cheeks, and the seams on her nightgown had recently been let out after a growth spurt.

“I see your father is impatient,” the bard said. Wrapped in her own shawl over her own nightgown, she felt more than ever the noble’s equal. After such a long life, she understood better than most how little rank protected one from life and how much a peasant’s child was like a queen’s. She was the girl’s elder by far, but she’d been young once, and what youth didn’t go sneaking down corridors in the dark during their first trip to court?

“He bid me seek your counsel. May I come in?”

Stepping back, she ushered the girl into her sparse little room. “Of course.”

Once the girl was through, she moved to close the door, but a slippered foot darted through the gap to block it. “Not so quicky!”

The foot neatly kicked the door back open as the bard released it, and a young woman – who was, at least, properly a woman – swept by in a dressing gown of satin and a riot of chestnut curls. “I enjoy midnight jaunts, but not being spied on one.”

The bard did her very best not to smile, but failed entirely. She knew this late guest as well. Eilwyn Alder. The third generation in her family the bard had befriended, and she sat next to little Alis on the bed with the casual grace of someone entitled to it.

“My grandmother sent me for your thoughts, though I’m sure she’ll collect them for herself tomorrow. But I am a dutiful granddaughter, so here I am.” She blinked doe eyes as the door finally fell shut, poised and perfect coquettish grace. “So, what news? Or will I lose my beauty sleep for nothing?”

Pulling out a stool from beneath her tiny desk, the bard said, “I haven’t spent an hour in his presence, and I’ve had a long ride, so forgive me if I haven’t yet taken the full measure of the king’s guest and his schemes.”

Alis wriggled on the bed, twisting her hands up in her shawl. Her eyes bounced between shadows, looking for threats like the Dream Lord’s nightmares might crawl out of the walls to exact vengeance for some imagined slight. Not that they couldn’t, but the bard assumed Lord Morpheus had better things to do with his time than torment one overwrought teenager who didn’t want to marry him.

“What if he eats his bride on the wedding night? Like the Lindworm?”

Eilwyn scoffed, and the bard donned a gentle smile, even if she couldn’t keep the laugher from her voice.

“He’s Endless, not a dragon.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means you’d be better off with a dragon.”

The child curled into the corner of the bed, sinking into the blankets with her shawl swallowing the lower half of her face. Looking for comfort where her companions’ mirth had failed. The bard reached over to pat her knee, taking the opportunity to change the subject. “Honestly dragons aren’t so bad. One of my patrons is a dragon, you know. I was attending my yearly visit to his lair when your great, worried, noble parents called for me.”

A whisper of a promised story lured Alis’s eyes away from visions of doom. She glanced at Eilwyn, like she’d confirm the tale. The older girl gladly took up the role of expert.

“Everyone knows that,” she sniffed.

“Is it…” Alis mulled over the idea, confusing herself with her own bevy of questions. “Is it a… nice dragon?”

“These days he is. But he wasn’t always.”

The hook snared Alis’s attention, and her posture softened, though she didn’t leave the corner of the little bed. In fact, she made herself more comfortable, settling like a kitten, and a stab of rage that anyone thought this little girl ought to be considered as a wife seared through the gathering strands of the bard’s story.

She took a blanket and settled it over the child as she began to speak, shielding her from a king’s machinations, a world too big for little hands, and prying eyes.

.O.O.O.

Dream of the Endless retired to the chambers the King set aside for his use, though he had little use for them at all. He would not sleep. He had no intention of entertaining in the parlor, or writing missives at the richly appointed desk. There was no book on the shelves he did not already possess, and he left the food prepared for him to grow cold and stale on the table.

He did sip the wine, and in the darkest hours he found his amusement in wandered the sleeping minds of the castle. Boredom drove him. Cruelty, even. Vengeance called for the king to atone for his wounded pride, and the decade since the human’s error only gave Dream time to image new and wondrous torments. He wanted to watch the king’s schemes crumble in the dread nightmares prowling the would-be suitors’ dreams. He enjoyed the seeds of hate planted in parents’ hearts, the doubt in subjects who’d been nothing but loyal until this gathering.

The king’s story would be a horror, a kind of tragedy that left wounds in his lands and subjects the turn of generations would not heal. These seven days would be the fuse, a prologue to terror and loss. A lesson none would soon forget, lest they bring such punishment on their own loves.

He drifted, savoring the fears he would shape to his own ends. Until words snared his attention. A half-heard tale of a dragon spinning through recent memories of a soft touch and a smile in the face of inescapable dread.

He found a young mind loosely tethered to the Dreaming, caught in the tides running between the conscious and subconscious, where words and images of the Waking cast strange reflections in the fading thoughts before sleep. She led him to a plain, simple room deep in the castle. A place for high-ranking members of staff, perhaps. Utilitarian and uninspiring. Not a place this noble child belonged. But she was not alone, and as she dozed, Dream borrowed her senses.

Voices. One he recognized. The bard the king so detested. He knew her as he knew all dreamers, and he sensed his sister’s touch upon her.

She spoke of him.

“He’s the Prince of Stories. A bride market is beneath him. This is how political unions for picky lords looking for pretty faces are arranged, not how one of the most powerful creatures to ever live seeks a partner,” the bard said.

She was not wrong, of course. The story weaver spied the loose strings in the tale, the ragged ends that did not match, though she had yet to understand the pattern he wove.

“Whatever he wants, it isn’t love or a warm body in his bed. There’s something else. I just have to figure out if that something is a danger to any of you.”

So, loyalty did grow in the king’s court. Just not to the monarch. Dream felt the peace the bard’s presence brought the dreamer half-snared in her sleep. A quiet, sure thing. The confidence children had in oak trees their parents and grandparents climbed when they were young.

The other voice in the room did not speak as a child. This one was old enough for caution, and it worried for the old oak as well as those who sheltered beneath.

“To us, I should think.”

Did the bard not fear him? Had she stood outside as the storyteller for so long she’d forgotten she could be part of them as well?

“Whatever happens, dear, I’ll survive it.” Her only worry was for those she perceived as in her care. The children of children she’d watched grow. A touch carried through the dreamer’s skin and into their subconscious, a kind voice leading her back to the Waking. “It isn’t time to sleep yet. You must return to your room…”

The fragile link collapsed, and the bridge between the servants’ quarters and the noble guest room dissolved.

Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, sat in his darkened chambers in the court of a damned king, and thought as he sipped from his wine that he would enjoy seeing the bard at work. He must amuse himself for seven days, after all, until the time of the agreement ran out, and she was a surprising creature.

The most surprising he’d seen in some time.

[backtothefanfiction]

One Last Date For Christmas | PART ONE: An Arrangement At The Christmas Party

Summary: Another year, The same Christmas party and holiday hook up... or is it?

Warnings: 18+ Only, Smut (oral M & F receiving, p in v, mild dirty talk with Christmas references), Mentions of Cancer/Death, Fake Dating, Fuck Buddies to Lovers, this is basically Hallmark/Netflix Christmas movie vibes

Word Count: 5.9K+

A/N: Okay, so I've been feeling crumby lately and really need a boost, so although we took a poll and it was decided this whole story would go up as one piece at the same time, I need the motivation and have had a crumby week mentally and need a boost. So here is part 1. If you do enjoy PLEASE LEAVE ME FEEDBACK!!! I am like Tinkerbell, if I don't get attention I will die haha. But seriously my mental health needs the kind words for energy so please take a moment to share some if you like this part and not just like it. Anyway... ENJOY!!!

Another year, another fancy corporate business party Peter was obliged to attend due to his job. It had become such a regular routine over these last 7 years J. Jonah Jameson didn’t even bother asking if he was available to come anymore, just automatically emailed over the details so he could attend. 

Peter couldn’t completely complain. He got free drinks and fancy food for the night. I mean in reality he got to act just like any other guest, despite the camera he had around his neck for the night. And instead of paying to be there, he was instead getting paid to be there. Sure it was only an extra couple hundred bucks, but at this time of year it really did make all the difference.

Being a freelance photographer only made him so much a year, especially when the rest of his time was spent moonlighting as the local superhero which didn’t pay a thing. Not that he couldn’t have made some money as a public figure. A couple grand here to endorse a few products. A donation of thanks or two from business owners or generous members of the community there. All of which had been options that he had turned down. That wasn’t who Spider-Man was and definitely not who he wanted Spider-Man to be. And so at almost 40 years old, this was Peter’s life.

No wife. No kids. Not even a pet, because he couldn’t commit to spending enough time at home in his tiny run down box of a studio apartment, to look after it. He sometimes brought girls home, he did have needs after all, but no matter how interested they had been in him, he’d never let himself get attached. After Gwen he would never get attached again.

The only one to ever even come close was you. He had met you 5 years ago now at this very event. Just like him, you always felt like a fish out of water at these parties, despite always being on the guest list. Your Father was one of the big business benefactors of the party and ever since the divorce you had become his regular plus one. 

Just like Peter you were a chronic singleton, always too busy traveling for work to be able to sustain an actual relationship, despite your Mother trying her best every time you were home to set you up with some poor soul. She just didn’t get it. You didn’t believe in marriage anymore as most of them ended in divorce, your parents marriage and even two of your Uncle’s marriages prime examples alone; and as for children? You had decided at the age of 13 you wouldn’t have kids and no matter how many times your Mother, Grandmother or Aunt Sarah told you, you would change your mind, you hadn’t. If anything the birth of your brother’s kids had only cemented things more. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like your niece and nephew, you were just always glad you could pass them back off to your brother and his wife after a few hours of their shrieking play and demands for cookies and ice cream, while fighting over what to watch on the telly. No, you had never wanted kids and you never would. You had however always wanted to get a cat, but until you changed jobs or just simply didn’t have to travel for work anymore, that would just remain a lovely little dream for the future.

Peter always arrived to the party early. After all, he was getting paid by the hour, so the longer he was there taking photos, the more money he could claim from the Daily Bugle finance department on Monday. He aimlessly wandered around taking photos of the venue and the table settings and the odd entering guest as people arrived. He helped himself to horderves off of shiny platters and the odd glass of champagne as he worked, seamlessly floating through the crowd, formally stopping people every now and again for more posed group shots, other times just taking candid photos of people mingling. He took the occasional booming order from J. Jonah Jameson, “Hey Parker! Make sure you get a shot of me with the Mayor. Parker! Come here and take a photo of me and Mrs Perez! Parker! Take a picture of me and my wife!”

“Yes, sir.” Peter would respond with a smile. Usually you were here by now to laugh at the way he followed the head of the Daily Bugle around like his lap dog, but as of yet you still hadn’t arrived. Then a horrible thought crossed Peter’s mind, ‘what if you weren’t coming this year.’ He had seen your Father walking about, had even taken a couple of photos of him with various business partners and city officials, but as of yet there had been no sign of you.

Peter checked his watch again hoping you were just running late, but the closer it got to 8.30pm and the start of the meal portion of the night, he started to give up hope. He knew you were busy, always flying between Tokyo, Milan, London and Paris for work; but you were always usually back home for the holidays. He was just about to check his watch again when you came through the door like a whirlwind in red.

He watched you like a Spider sizing up his prey as you made a beeline for your Father. You gave him a rushed greeting and an apologetic kiss to the cheek, before you followed him and the rest of his group to their table, placed closer to the small makeshift stage that had been erected at one end of the long window lined room. He kept his focus on you as you took your seat, your father pushing your chair in for you as you turned to greet one of the other women at the table a couple seats away from you. That was, until J. Jonah Jameson’s booming voice called him away again.

“Parker! You’re over here with us!” He barked as he ushered Peter over to a table on the other side of the room. He was just able to lock eyes with you and give you a friendly smile before he took his seat. “I’ve sat you on this side so you can get the wife’s good side.” Jameson continued to say.

There was a couple of speeches and awards before the food was served. Peter was pleased to find that he was in fact in a good vantage point in which he could take pictures of the stage this year without having to move. He also had a clear sightline to you too, his lens unconsciously moving in your direction every few shots then back again.

Peter had chosen the steak and hasselback potatoes for his dinner with a rich chocolate pudding for dessert. When he finished his meal, he dismissed himself from the table, as he traditionally did, to go around the tables and take a few more candid shots of people before taking a break at the bar. 

“I’ll take an old fashioned, please.” Your familiar voice suddenly came from beside him. “I’m sorry I was late.” you said as you leaned into him as if conspiratorially. “My flight got delayed.”

“Where were you coming from this time?” Peter asked as he took a sip from his own drink.

“Boston.” You said with a sigh. It definitely hadn’t been the answer he was expecting and his quizzical look at you said as much. “I was visiting my Mother. Her and her new partner Brad moved there a few months back to be closer to his grandchildren.” You explained.

“I’m guessing that means you got away with not being set up on a blind date this visit.” Peter fished, knowing your Mother’s habits and routines well after these last 5 years of annual hookups.

“You’d think so.” You said as you took a sip of your stiff drink, just to emphasize the drama of it all. “Turns out Maggie’s teacher is single and available.” you say with mock enthusiasm.

“Maggie?” Peter questions.

“One of Brad’s grandchildren.” you fill in with another sigh and eyebrow raise. “I wish she’d just give it a rest, you know?” You pause as you take another sip of your drink before you tell him, “I’m thinking of coming up with a fake boyfriend just to get her off my back. But then I know she’ll be all like ‘when do I get to meet him?’” you say doing an exaggerated impersonation of your Mother’s voice.

“Yeah, I think about doing the same thing with Aunt May sometimes, but I’d hate lying to her.” Peter confided.

“How is your Aunt?” you ask. The one blessing of only seeing each other once a year meant there were always things for you both to talk about and catch up on.

You watch as his face falls, his eyes turning sad as he looks into his drink. “Umm, they’re not good actually. We found out this year she has stage 4 breast cancer. The doctor said this is probably gonna be her last Christmas.” He struggles to look at you.

“Peter, I’m so sorry.” you say, mustering up as much empathy as you can as your hand instinctively comes to rub at his back. “Is there nothing they can do?”

“They said they could try a few different treatments but it wasn’t guaranteed to work and May ultimately decided that… Well she said that she’s lived to a good age and if this is how she is meant to go, this is how she is meant to go.” He paused, blinking hard as he continued to stare at the liquid in his glass. “She said I was a grown man and didn’t need her anymore.” He let out a small unsatisfied chuckle that wreaked of denial, before he finally looked at you again. “I just… I just feel guilty, you know?”

“What for?” You asked him.

“It’s just. I know she was always holding onto this hope that I’d meet someone. That I’d end up finding someone and settling down. Live a life like her and Ben did.”

“But that’s not what you want from your life?” you question him now unsure, as you finally sit yourself on the bar stool next to him. “I mean, if you wanted that, isn’t that what you would have done? Gone out, met a girl. Settled down. You can’t be someone you’re not just to please others.”

“But it was what I wanted.” he suddenly confides. “And that’s why I feel guilty because she knows that. When I first introduced her to Gwen, I said, ‘that’s the girl I’m going to marry Aunt May.’” he says with gusto, like he’s saying it exactly how he had said it to her, before his body deflates again.

“But things change. People change. We’re allowed to change Peter.”

“I know, but… she just, I know she never gave up hope.”

“You know what they say about hope?” You say.

“It breeds eternal misery,” he bristles.

“No.” You chastise. “It’s like the sun, if you only believe in it when you can see it, you’ll never make it through the night.”

Peter’s brow furrows as his head turns back to you. “Did you just quote Star Wars to me?”

“Princess Leia.” you smile.

“God I love you.” he says casually with a smile.

“I know.” you continue to beam back before you raise your glass towards him. “For Aunt May?”

“For Aunt May.” he agrees before clinking your glass with his own.

You both creep away a little before midnight, catching a cab back to your apartment. You always went back to your apartment. Peter said it was because he wanted you to be comfortable and said it was more homelier than his place, but the truth was, Peter was ashamed to take you back to his own apartment. It looked like a dingy run down squat or some really dodgy student housing in comparison to your place. 

He didn’t want to kid himself, he knew he was definitely punching above his weight a little when it came to you, not because he necessarily thought he was ugly, but more simply because you had more money than him. You’d never made him feel inferior for it. In fact you’d always wanted to help him by offering to put him in contact with some galleries so he could get more of his work out there. Maybe make some extra cash by selling some of his photos as art for the rich and wealthy, not just to a local paper, but Peter had never had the guts to take you up on the offer. It would make him feel indebted to you and throw the balance of your relationship off even more than it somewhat already was.

“Did you choose red because it’s my favourite color or just for the festivities?” He nibbled on your ear as his fingers ran across the velvet skirt of the dress, dragging it up to your thigh as he pressed himself against your back.

You hadn’t bothered turning on any other lights than the Christmas tree, before you stopped to take a moment to look out your window at the city. Christmas in New York was your favorite time of year. Every year to mark the occasion, you would go down to Rockefeller Plaza, grab a hot chocolate and watch as they turned on the lights. As kids you would go ice skating there. Less so now you were adults, your brother and his own kids had their own tradition of skating in Central Park on Christmas Eve, but some years you would still partake.

“I chose it for the season.” You sighed, your body relaxing back into him, head resting on his shoulder as he kissed his way down your neck.

“My festive little elf.” He teased as his fingers continued to work up the hem of your dress until they could reach your panties, which you had in fact bought new and chosen with Peter in mind.

“I even brought presents.” You plaid along teasingly.

Your breathing hitched slightly as the pads of his fingers dragged over your lace covered clit.

“Really? For me?” You could feel him smiling into the exposed skin of your collarbone.

“Mhmm.” You hum. “Maybe, you should unwrap me.” You tease back.

“Mmm.” He hums back deeply in delight as he turns you around to face him. The hand that was just ghosting at your centre, now wraps firmly around the back of your neck, as he smashes your rouge stained lips into his. 

His other hand begins pawing at the velvety fabric of your dress again before he’s pulling his face away from you, his grin growing too big and you can’t help but give a satisfying smile back as you notice how your lipstick has transferred from your lips to his, marking him as yours for the evening. Your hand reaches for his and you begin taking steps backwards, pulling him in the direction of your bedroom and awaiting bed.

Your room is a slight mess from your hasty packing before you left for Boston and your equally hasty unpacking upon your return. You’d just had enough time to get home and get changed, rushing your make up and hair, before you left to go to the party. Your suitcase lay open on the floor, some of the contents lay spilling out from where you had hunted around for your makeup bag. The little pink bag from Victoria Secret sat upside down on the floor beside it. Peter spies it the moment he enters the room.

He feigns shock, “Did you buy this for me?” He teases as he picks up the bag.

“Don’t get too excited Parker, they were having a sale.”

“I don’t care.” He says with a boyish grin, despite his 39 years of age. “Come here and let me see.”

You smile at him as you begin to step closer to him before calling out into the room, “Alexa, turn on mood lighting.”

His eyebrows raise as a lamp in the corner of the room turns on, illuminating your bedroom in a magenta hue. “Mood lighting huh?”

“Do you wanna be able to see your Christmas gift or not?” You sass back with a hand on your hip.

“I mean, I’ve always thought of you as my Christmas present, regardless of what you wear.” He says as his fingers begin to grab for you again and pull you into him.

“Next year I won’t bother then.”

“Oh no, you’ve made it a thing now. I’m gonna expect this, every- single- year- from now on.” He says between kisses across your cheek and down your neck and upper chest. You begin to giggle and shriek in delight as his lips gently nibble at your skin. “Mmm.  Come on then. Let’s see what you got for me.” He says ripping himself away from you so you have the space to reach behind you for the zipper to your dress. 

The dress begins to relax its hold on your body, slowly exposing the black strapless lace bra to Peter before you slide the dress down the rest of your body to show off the matching lacey bikini briefs. You carefully step out of the puddle that now is the red velvet dress on your floor, your ankles only wobbling slightly as you still stand in your heels for him to take in the full sight.

He pauses for a moment silently taking you in before he gives a small nod. “Yes. Yes, this will do. Excuse me a moment while I go and write my thank you letter to San-“

“Peter.” You whine.

“Oh come on, don’t be bratty with me now.” He says jokingly as he steps closer and wraps you in his arms again.

“I thought you liked it when I was bratty.” You joke back as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Nope. You become completely intolerable and insufferable and…” You roll your eyes as he continues to list words, but nonetheless, begin to snake your arms from around his neck, trailing them down his chest as you begin to get down on your knees before him.

You begin to work open the button of his jeans, freeing his semi hard cock from its confines. He only stops his fake monologue about you acting like a brat when you take his length into your mouth and his hand involuntarily reaches out for the side of your head as he sighs. 

The only sounds that fill the room now are his small gasps and moans and your saliva slick lips around his cock. One of your hands braces itself on his thigh, whilst the other works the rest of his shaft your mouth won’t reach.

You pull off him with a sloppy pop of your lips and Peter groans before you begin to circle the tip of his cock with your tongue and he jumps away from you with sensitivity, suddenly worried he’d blow his load too soon if you continue like that. It makes you giggle.

His fingers reach around the flesh of your bicep and he pulls you up off the floor before pulling you into him, his head nuzzling into your neck, lips and teeth nibbling and teasing at your skin and driving you crazy. He’d worked out that you liked that on the second Christmas you had slept together. He loved the way it made you sigh but also giggle and shriek when the sensation grew too much.

“Ahhh Peter.” you cried out with a high pitched moan. 

He reluctantly broke himself away from you and the intoxicating smell of your favorite perfume so you could latch your mouth onto his, a satisfied smile struggling to be contained on your lips. He can’t help but smile back.

“Peter!” you shriek and giggle as he reaches around to pick you up and drop you back onto the covers of your bed.

Your hands get lost in his hair as he begins kissing his way down your chest. Your stomach involuntarily twitches as his lips move across it and the way his hands reach for your hips to forcefully hold you in place sends you reeling, a wave of arousal soaking your panties. His lips skip over your underwear, instead kissing at the inside of your thigh as his hands begin to relax on your hips, his fingers curling under the waistband of your underwear, ready to pull them down.

As he removes you of your underwear, he also takes the opportunity to rid himself of the flattering black long sleeved top he’d been wearing all evening. The removal of his shirt reveals a silver necklace that had been hiding beneath the shirt and the way the chain hangs off his neck has you biting your lip. It is so rare to see a man wear jewelry so you never realized the effect the sight had on you before, but there's something about the connotations and hidden meaning to it, his choice and confidence to wear it, makes you want to rub your thighs together in want. 

His fingers are suddenly teasing at your entrance though and its almost enough to take the edge off, or it would be if his finger hadn’t stopped at the first knuckle of his middle finger. You realize he’s only done it so he can spread the arousal that was already leaking out of your cunt around between your folds and across your clit so he can then go in and lick it all off. Your head falls back into the pillows of your bed as you sigh out his name in relief.

You can feel the focus he has radiating off of him without even looking as he begins to expertly lick up from your entrance, swirl his tongue around your clit and then back down again as he draws moans, ever increasing in volume, from your lips. You found out very early on in your yearly dalliances that he was an expert with that tongue, making you cum not once, not twice, but three times just from his tongue alone, when you told him no one had ever actually gotten you off that way before.

You could feel your first climax of the night building low within you, your muscles growing tight, clit growing extra sensitive as your fingers tangled themselves into his hair, encouraging him and guiding him and not allowing him to pull away until you finished. The pressure of his tongue grew firmer and you ground your clit down against it until that tight thread within you snapped, your hips stuttering as pleasure rippled through you. He held tightly onto you, lapping up everything you gave him and helping you ride it out until you were actively pushing him away from you. He gave your bare thighs a small satisfactory slap as he gave you his smug tight lipped  smile that seemed to say ‘another happy customer’ and you couldn’t help but let out a little giggle before turning your head and trying to hide the ear to ear smile that was on your face.

You were able to compose yourself as he shifted from the bed to shuck himself fully off the rest of his clothes, his jeans joining your red dress in a puddle on the floor, before he carefully lifted the necklace off over his head and placed it on your bedside table. You shifted yourself over on the bed as he came down to rest beside you, his hand reaching out to pull your face to him as he gave you a kiss before he encouraged you to climb up on top of him.  Your lips didn’t part from his as you straddled his waist, your cunt involuntarily rubbing itself along his hard length as your tongues intermingled with one another.

His fingers reached round to grab a hold of your ass cheeks, squeezing the flesh as he encouraged you to grind down harder. You moaned and gasped against his lips at the drag of your clit across his skin. Your open mouth before him allowed him to reach out for your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth making you moan louder, before he began to trail kisses down your chin and neck. You closed your eyes, getting lost in the feeling and the sounds of your own voice. It sent a new flood of arousal between your legs and you could feel Peter grinning against your skin as you worked your slick over his length.

You paused only long enough to reach over to your chest of drawers, pulling a box of condoms out of the second drawer. The position allowed Peter to attach his mouth over your breasts, his teeth biting at them over the lace bra. You reached behind you to unclasp it and take it off as you sat upright, Peter’s hands resting patiently on the tops of your thighs as he waited for you to then open the condom. You held out the torn open packet for him to take the condom and start rolling it down onto his length as you reached back over the side of the bed to drop the wrapper in the bin. 

You shifted your legs back slightly as you recentred yourself, one hand balancing on the bed, the other on his bare chest as he lined himself up with your entrance. He glided the tip of his cock against your folds, covering the tip of his cock with your slick before he began to encourage you back onto it. The slow fill of his cock inside you had you letting out a long sigh of satisfaction, your eyes falling closed, head tilting back as you savored the feeling.

It had been a slow year. Despite a brief hook up with a guy over the summer after a night out with friends and a quick tinder hookup in your hotel in Rome (where the guy spoke barely a lick of English), your only companion had been your old reliable rabbit toy. You’d be lying if you hadn’t been counting down the days to tonight the whole time you had been visiting your Mother. When your flight had been delayed, it was the thought of missing out on your one good and guaranteed fuck of the year that had stressed you out. Now it all seemed worth it.

Peter started slowly, his hips pushing up into you at an agonizing pace as he guided you down and your hips back with every thrust, the contours of his cock dragging agonizingly slowly across every sensitive spot inside you, working you up gradually to another earth shattering climax. Your body bowed over him as you let out small gasps of praise into his forehead, your fingers gripping tightly into the sheets either side of his head. You felt one of his hands run soothingly up your back and it sent shivers down your spine that only added to the sensation building in between your legs.

“Peter.” you sighed against him, as you pressed your forehead into his, your eyes closed in concentration as you chased that feeling inside you.

“What is it? What do you need?” his voice gently calls to you as he moves the hand that was caressing your back round behind your neck, pulling your lips down to his for a kiss.

“More. I need more.” you say equally as gently back into his lips. 

You feel his head give a small nod in acknowledgment before he seals the deal with a kiss, as his thrusts begin to grow quicker and firmer in pace. It makes him hit something deep inside you that has you crying out. Your eyes fly open, desperate to lock onto his. He looks up at you with such beauty and gratitude. It makes you want to kiss him again and you do, your tongue licking deeply and slowly into his mouth in rhythm with his thrusts.

Your thighs shudder slightly as the sensation between your legs changes and you know your cumming again but the feeling of his cock moving between your legs doesn’t stop. It works you through the high and he still doesn’t stop. Instead his thrusts grow fast as he searches for his own release. You brace yourself, holding yourself over him as he just takes what he wants. If he holds out long enough you think you can get out one more orgasm of your own.

You balance yourself on one arm as your other hand reaches between your legs, swirling rapidly at your clit as you push yourself against his length, feeling every sensation of his rapid thrust. Peter grunts in response at the sensation of your fluttering cunt and it forces him to find one final push, his hips sputtering only slightly before he increases his angle and speed one last time, then he’s embracing you.

His arms wrap tightly around you as your final climax soaks his cock. Your head is buried into his neck as you try to shut out the overstimulation for just a few more strokes of his cock before he stills, his length pulsating as he finishes, only adding to the sensitivity between your legs making you squirm. He’s quick to push you off him as you do, his own sensitivity unable to take the feeling.

You both pause breathing deeply as you come down before he gives you a small tap and you flop onto your side on the bed. He quickly gets up, kicking his legs out to disperse the blood around them as his cock softens. You close your eyes to revel in the last dregs of your orgasm as he goes to your adjoining ensuite to sort himself out.

He takes a little longer than usual and you begin to frown, but then you hear the flush of the toilet and the door opening and you settle. You quickly get up, flashing him a smile as you hobble to your bathroom with legs like a newborn calf. Usual he’d let out a proud little chuffing laugh but this year he doesn’t.

When you return to see him sat on the side of the bed in his underwear, his fingers reaching to fix the necklace he had taken off back over his head and around his neck, you realize he looks distracted. “What is it? What’s wrong?” you ask him as you climb over the bed to your rightful side and slip between the covers.

His head turns, eyebrows raising as if he’s only just noticed you’re back in the room. “Huh?” he says. “Oh, nothing.”

“Really?” you say as he shuffles himself round to face you, put he doesn’t get under the covers. Peter doesn’t sleep over. He stays for a debrief and a chat for maybe another hour, some years two, but always leaves to return to his own apartment and bed.

“It’s just,” he says as he places an arm under his head as he gets himself comfortable, “I was just thinking about what you said earlier.”

“What did I say earlier?” you reply as you shift into a similar position to his, facing him. You look like two kids at a slumber party who have moved so close to each other so you can whisper really quietly and not disturb the others who are sleeping.

“About pretending to have a boyfriend to get your Mom off your case.”

You frown at him, “Yeah, but it’d never work because she’d want to meet him.”

“Okay, yeah.” he says, but his tone isn’t one of defeat, it instead says ‘wait, hear me out’. “But what if you had someone to take home and pretend to be said boyfriend?”

You’re still confused. “What are you trying to get at here Parker?” You suddenly sit up, placing distance between the two of you as a realization hits you. “Wait, this isn’t you asking me out or trying to be my boyfriend is it? You know I don’t really do the whole dating thing. We have our arrangement and that's-”

“No. NO. Would you just hear me out.” he speaks over you and cuts you off as he too sits up defensively. “Look, I just thought we could come to some sort of arrangement.” You’re silent as he pauses and takes a deep breath and you wait for him to continue. “Okay.” he says, his hands folding in his lap, “This is probably gonna be my Aunt May’s last Christmas.” he says and the implication of his words make you bristle. He struggles to look at you, but your eyes remain fixed on him so he know that you are listening and paying attention, even if his words are starting to make you uncomfortable. “I don’t want her to die thinking I’m gonna spend the rest of my life alone, you know? I mean,” he sighs, collecting his thoughts before he continues, “I don’t want her to die without hope.”

“Okay.” you acknowledge quietly as you follow his words.

“So I was thinking, what if- just for this christmas,” he emphasizes, “what if we pretend to you know, actually date. Come the New Year we go our separate ways as normal, no strings attached, but you know, just to get our families off our backs so we can live our chosenly single lives.” He screws up his face a little at the word chosenly, which he’s all but sure he’s made up but figures he’s gotten his point across.

“So, we pretend to date for the holidays to get our parents off our backs?” you frown, checking you’ve got his proposal right.

“Yeah. You’d come for Christmas Eve dinner with my Aunt and I’ll…” his voice trails off as he wracks his brain for an equal solution for you.

“You’ll come to Boston with me for my Mother’s New Years party.” You fill in for him.

He hesitates a second realizing he’d actually need to travel and stay with you and your family to make things even on your side of things, but the thought of letting May die thinking he’s going to be lonely forever, has his stomach turning more so he hastily agrees. “Fine, but-” he interjects, knowing a single day with his Aunt for a supposedly 2-3 day trip with your family isn’t a fair exchange, “if my Aunt is still with us in February, you have to stop by on Valentines day.”

“I thought you just said we go our separate ways come January.” You respond.

“Yes, but one meal with my Aunt in comparison to a multi day trip to Boston is hardly an equal-”

“Fine. Fine.” You concede with your hands raised.

He relaxes slightly as you come to an agreement. “You wanna shake hands on it or something?” he offers. You roll your eyes, your fingers reaching for the pillow you’d pulled into your lap to nervously fiddle with instead, picking it up and throwing it at him. “Hey.” he jokingly exclaims as he holds his hands up to catch the pillow before it hits him in the face. “Is that any way to treat your new boyfriend?” he deadpans.

“Uuuhhgg.” you scoff back with another eye roll but you can’t help the tiny smirk that creeps into the corner of your mouth.

I'm going to upload the other parts of this mini series on the dates that match up with the story (Christmas Eve, New Years Eve), if you want to be added to the list below, please put it in writing. All current tags have been taken from likes, reblogs or comments from other posts about this series, if you wish to be removed, just let me know. (I had a few more names who liked posts but it wouldn't let me tag you, apologies, I'm not sure how to fix that but I hope this finds you anyway.) Once again if you did like this, please don't just like it, respond with some words of your own to give me a boost.

@sincericida @tarzinnia @raindropsandteaandtears @xenasolos @dil3mma @ms-wild-card-56 @shivani1902

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Residences: Flightfur & Lilybeak

Flightfur

Aliases / Nicknames: Love

Gender: she-cat

Sexuality: pansexual

Family: unnamed mother, unnamed father, Lilybeak (daughter), Birchkit, Sunkit (sons), Tadpoleclaw (mate, formerly)

Other Relations: unnamed mentor, unnamed apprentice, Softbark (mother-in-law)

Clan: ThunderClan

Rank: warrior

Characteristics: loves racing, good reflexes, tends to get over emotional (positively and negatively)

Murder Motive: protect her daughter

Number of Victims: 1

Number of Murders: 1

Murder Method: clawing

Known Victims: Tadpoleclaw

Victim Profile: her former mate, her daughter’s attacker

Cause of Death: throat ripped out, murdered

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story: 

She was on her own the moment she became expecting.

She was delighted at first, until she shared the news with her mate and saw his face fall.

She had lost one kit the day that they were born, and her remaining son was incredibly sick, requiring attention at all times. Flightfur wasn't able to sleep for days, her worry wouldn't let her.

Her son--Birchkit--didn't live past more than a moon.

Flightfur shrank into her grief, becoming bitter and angry. Bitter at the world for stealing her children, angry at her so-called 'mate' for never comforting her or visiting them before they died.

How dare he?

How dare he bow his head at the vigil? How dare he give a speech about his poor dead children, who he never bothered to see?

All the moons Flightfur spent exhausted, ungroomed, on the verge of a breakdown!

All the times she went to him, begging for help, and he came up with excuses or promised to help 'later,' but never would.

All the worries she expressed, wishing that he would just come see his kits before it was too late, to just be with her again.

How dare he be pretending to feel the pain that was tearing Flightfur up inside?

It ate her up completely--the rage, the sorrow, the grief. It left her a shell of her former self, living day by day staring into space.

While she suffered in her misery, Tadpoleclaw moved on just fine not even a moon after his kits were in the ground.

After....how long? Moons...Years? Her daughter, her last surviving kit, was an adult now. She was walking in the forest alone, when she spotted Tadpoleclaw and Lilybeak writhing on the ground. At first, she thought that they were training, when the spray of blood hit her.

In a flash, she realized that her daughter was in danger. In that same flash, her instinct kicked in and she sprang forward, ripping Tadpoleclaw from her baby and tearing at him with her claws, screaming her hatred as she tore and tore and tore, unleashing all her hatred for him and all that he's put her through.

His face and chest were unrecognizable, marred completely by long red, ragged lines and pools of blood. When her ears stopped ringing, she heard voices behind her and sprung around to face a shocked patrol.

She tried to explain, stammering, but her heart was beating so fast and she still wasn't sure what had happened, it was all a blur...

She looked to her daughter for help. She could tell them what was going on.

Her daughter kicked that bird skull that she's been fascinated by since kithood, before telling everyone that Flightfur attacked Tadpoleclaw unprovoked.

Flightfur didn't have any time to speak a word before Tadpoleclaw's new mate leaped from the crowd and bit into her throat.

Lilybeak

Aliases / Nicknames: Weirdo, Lilyfreak, Skull-lover, Dungpelt, other various insults

Gender: she-cat, agender-leaning (she/they)

Sexuality: asexual, panromantic

Family: Finchfur (mother), Tadpoleclaw (father), Birchkit, Sunkit (brothers), Softbark (grandmother)

Other Relations: unnamed mentor

Clan: ThunderClan

Rank: warrior

Characteristics: essentially “blind” to societal norms, loves the smell of rot, loves birds, loves her skull, obsessive of her skull, always lets her skull decide her fate

Murder Motive: the skull said “negative”

Number of Victims: 6

Number of Murders: 6

Murder Method: neglecting help, lying

Known Victims: Tadpoleclaw, Finchfur, several unnamed Clanmates

Victim Profile: her father, her mother, cats in danger

Cause of Death:  eye puncture, murdered

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story: 

Her father was never really in the picture--it wasn't until she became an apprentice that Lilybeak even knew which warrior was him.

Her mother...Well, she was in the nursery with her, but that's as far as their interactions went, not including formal greetings or patrols. Lilybeak didn't blame her. She had lost one kit the day they were born, and Lilybeak's remaining littermate was incredibly sick, requiring attention at all times.

He didn't live past more than a moon, but instead of turning her attention to her last surviving kit, she shrank into her grief, becoming bitter and angry.

That was okay. Lilykit had her grandmother. Softbark taught Lilykit to wean, to walk, and every other important thing a young cat must know. She also taught her granddaughter special skills, like how to perfectly pluck a bird of its feathers or clean the meat completely off the bones so that nothing is wasted.

Lilykit was so proud of herself when she had finished her first--successful--clean of a crow. Softbark pulled the skull from the rest of the body and passed it to her, encouraging her to always look at it in a time of need or confusion.

She had meant for Lilykit to remember her success, but the kit took it literal.

That skull was everything to her, moreso when her grandmother passed.

Lilykit could never be sure if her mother ever heard her questions, or if she just didn't care enough to provide answers.

But that skull...She could always be sure that it was there. It would always help her, guide her.

It was simple enough. When she was plagued by a question or choice, she would gently kick the skull. If the mouth laid open, it was affirmation of the positive. If it closed, negative.

When the only guiding figure in your life is the skull of a long-dead animal, you're bound to be off when it comes to...societal norms and thought processes.

When a warrior had tried to take her skull away, thinking it junk, she had wailed and bit onto his tail so hard, she hit bone.

Her peers teased her for it, calling it gross and weird and pretending to gag at the smell when she curled up beside it while asleep.

They tried to take it from her one day as a joke...Lilypaw had to spend half a moon's worth cleaning the elders from ticks, but at least she got her point across. No one ever bothered her about her skull again. Weird glances, sure. Whispers, whatever. Lilybeak didn't care.

While others voiced their disdain of her new name, Lilybeak was delighted! Lilybeak, just like her friend!

Then that warrior...her father? Yes, she remembered, her father asked to go on a walk. When the skull confirmed that she should go, she did so, holding it delicately in her jaws.

Tadpoleclaw tried to act understanding and patient at first as he attempted to explain how strange Lilybeak's obsession was, but when Lilybeak refused to listen, he became frustrated. He asked her why she had to be so weird, doesn't she know they whisper about him too, as her father? What cats think of him to have her as a daughter?

He shouted at her to get rid of the skull or he would. Lilybeak told him that she had to ask it first. That enraged Tadpoleclaw and he tore it out of her jaws, throwing it to the ground. Then he placed a paw on it, pressing down..

Lilybeak shrieked and shoved him off, and they fell into a whirlwind of tooth and claw.

Before Lilybeak knew it, Flightfur had killed Tadpoleclaw, and a patrol was demanding what was going on. Flightfur looked at Lilybeak pleadingly, so Lilybeak gently kicked her skull to see what she should do.

It was closed. Negative. She couldn't go forward with telling the truth. So she raised her chin and announced her mother's crime.

It would only be the first time the skull had lead to someone's death.

Three times, a Clanmate was in danger--hanging from a broken branch, trapped on icy water, and faced against a badger. All three times, those Clanmates died because when faced with the choice to help or not, the answer was negative.

Not always. Sometimes it was positive, and she sprang into action and saved the cats in danger.

Whether she saved someone or didn’t had no affect on Lilybeak’s conscience. She was merely following what she was being told—that skull was for her, no one else. It was in her best interest to follow everything it told her.

If she didn’t help someone, it was probably because she would only be putting herself in danger. If she did, it meant she was safe enough to do so.

If she had told the truth about Tadpoleclaw’s death, maybe she would have been blamed as well, instead of treated as the lucky survivor of Flightfur’s rampage.

Then Lilybeak took her skull into battle. It would be hard to fight and worry tugged at her, but she needed it with her always.

Then she saw a Clanmate getting attacked by two opposing warriors. She kicked the beak…negative. She turned away.

But she hadn’t been without audience. That cat’s father had seen her neglect. He was farther and couldn’t help in time, but Lilybeak could have easily stepped in if not so obsessed with that weird beak.

Consumed by rage and grief, he snuck over to her nest that night. She slept a tail-length away from everyone else, the only one unbothered by that smell.

He picked up the skull that she loved so much, and slammed it down.

Additional Information:

—Was initially just gonna be Lilybeak, but I started writing and realized the mom has a strong motive. Flight was chosen because did her similar fur pattern.

—Lilybeak was suggested by @meowstival and @colonies-of-the-shells-and-fish !

—Because she was killed by the beak as well as buried with it (out of respect for her strange love), she has it with her in the Dark Forest.

—Both Tadpole and the dad that killed Lily are in StarClan.

—The dad slammed the skull down blindly, not really sure where he was going because cats aren’t really used to stabbing with items in their mouths. He ended up puncturing Lily’s eye, deep enough to kill her!

[hersaladdeer]

Chapter 9: Priestess

An ongoing ProHero Hitoshi x F!OC fanfic.

Takara swallowed, meeting her former lovers eyes. "I would have loved you if you didn't worship Her at all." A traitorous tear slipped from Takara's eye and she rubbed it away with the back of her hand. "My love for you didn't contradict anything. It only added to the love I had for everything else. Love isn't contradictory, it can't be. It's only contrasting."

The Gargoyle had once again left before she woke but neglected to leave the provisions he'd initially offered. Takara had slept deep, and slept in late. She'd found a second scrap of paper with his number written in a hasty hand, this time underlined twice. The sun was high in the sky before she stirred. The week had been stressful and kept her busy, and Kiyoko had been a considerable part of that. They were preparing for a local alternative festival set to begin the next day.

Takara wasn't convinced they were going to sell out of the tea mixes and tinctures and Kiyoko had insisted on preparing, but Kiyoko hadn't been deterred. She's seemed uninterested in taking her granddaughters business advice and had continued making, weighing, bagging, and labelling the bags with Takara's assistance.

"Grandma," Takara had laughed as she looked online postings. "are you sure this is the right market?" Yes, there would be some fringe shops like Kiyoko's, but overall the shops ranged from an ecofriendly focus to traditional longsword crafting. There were a few presenters included throughout the two day event. One name caught her eye, her eyes widening as she re-read it in hopes she was initially mistaken. "I can't go to this." Kiyoko had furrowed her brow, demanding to see what Takara was looking at. "Tao will be there."

Kiyoko nodded, considering her granddaughter. "I haven't seen them in two years. And while they're giving a lecture?" Takara shook her head at the name on the screen.

Guest lecturer: Tao Mei. Melding science and spirituality, for the skeptic.

Despite the fact that Takara and Tao hadn't left on the best of terms, she was happy to see her former partner blossoming. Kiyoko poked her side, her eyes looking at Takara intensely. Takara understood immediately - Kiyoko needed the help. Her grandparents had signed up for this months ago and it was too late to cancel. "Fine." Takara grumbled, applying a label to the bag her grandmother handed her.

"According to Aizawa it's written Ruq." Denki explained, holding a copy of the paper that had been dropped at the scene. Someone had snuck into an industrial castor oil producer likely trying to get their hands on the poisonous beans. "I don't know where we'd find anyone who could read it. I have some people asking around, but it's very niche."

"We don't have a translator for it?" Hitoshi looked over the runic writing on the paper. He briefly considered whether it could be a cipher, but if Aizawa had recognized it...

"No, they're kind of a cult. Super secret." Denki lowered his voice as if to emphasize that it was, in fact, a secret. Hitoshi thought to the woman he'd woken up next to- she didn't seem secretive to him at all. "I have someone who may be able to help." Hitoshi offered, standing from the table. "Can I take this?" Hitoshi asked, beginning to fold the paper to place in his pocket.

"Why don't you just call them? Snap a picture?" Hitoshi looked up at the blonde man, briefly questioning his friends ability to keep anything secret.

"You want me to make evidence publicly available?" Denki seemed to reconsider the option he'd offered as Hitoshi felt his phone buzz in his pocket. An unknown number had sent him a photo of a black cat, engaged in a furious battle with a strip of fabric. Takara. He smiled.

"No, I guess you're right. I didn't think of that." The blonde admitted, his eyes widening as they noticed the small smile on Hitoshi's face. "What's got you grinning?" Denki questioned, looking towards Hitoshi's phone with a curious look. Hitoshi shoved the device in his pocket before the blonde could get a good look. "Nothing. I'll be back."

"Oh no, you're not going alone. I wanna meet your super secret language informant." Denki smirked at the purple haired hero who levelled him with a glare. "No." The word was firmer than he anticipated as he kept his eyes trained on his friend. The last thing he needed was Denki knowing about his entanglement with Takara. The man couldn't keep quiet if his life depended on it.

Denki met his glare, tilting his head. "Whatcha hiding, 'Toshi?" A grin spread across the blondes face as he wiggled his eyebrows. "This person a new friend of yours?" Hitoshi continued glaring at the man, not moving from where he'd stopped. "I'm coming with you. It's a patrol." Denki all but skipped to the door, holding it open for the man.

The door harp chimed and Takara quickly shoved the bag she'd labelled off to the side. Her eyes met Hitoshi's, then shortly after she was met with Denki's.

"Witch girl?" Denki exclaimed louder than he'd meant to, Hitoshi once again glaring at the man. Takara looked confused by the exclamation. "Have you been hooking up with witch girl?" Denki whispered, unmoved by the glare he was receiving or by Takara's confusion.

"I have a name, remember?" Takara called over, confused at the whispering pair. "Are you back for another look at the greenhouse?"

"Can you shut up and act like a professional for a minute?" Hitoshi whispered back as they approached the counter. "Any chance you can translate this for me?" Hitoshi slid the paper towards Takara who pulled it closer for a better look. Her head tilted as she looked it over.

Denki examined the woman. She had high cheekbones and sharp eyes, scrutinizing the paper with a furrowed brow. Her lips lips were thin but painted an enticing red color which contrasted the long sleeved black shirt she wore. As far as a cult member went, she was prettier than what his mind had conjured.

"No." Takara said after a moment, sliding the paper back to Hitoshi. "Sorry, it's not-"

"I was told it was written Ruq." Denki offered unhelpfully. Takara turned her attention to him, the golden flecks in her eyes contrasting the light brown, reminding him of milk chocolate and toffee. "You were misinformed. This is an offshoot language from Ruq. Mostly the same letters but this is completely illegible to me." Kiyoko had appeared beside the woman, slowly pulling the paper off the counter so she could get a better look at the object of interest.

Kiyoko looked it over, her eyes going right to left in rapid movements. Then she looked up at Takara, who made a point not to catch her eyes. "Do you know someone who could translate it?" Hitoshi asked, his eyes softening as they met Takara's.

"A priest or priestess of Nagati. Anyone short of that ranking won't translate it for you. The language is a little guarded under their beliefs." Takara ignored the poke in her side, still avoiding her grandmothers eyes. Oh no, she was not going to see-

"Where can we start looking for one?" Denki questioned, scratching the back of his head. Takara reached under the counter, grabbing a flyer for the next days event. "Try there tomorrow." She offered with a shrug. "Maybe you'll get lucky-" Takara felt something hit her side with an unexpected force, shocking her mid-sentence. Looking down she saw Kiyoko, glaring up at her as she held her slipper in her hand. "What are you-" Kiyoko hit her thigh this time, pulling a small yelp from the woman. She looked towards Hitoshi who's eyebrows has raised at Kiyoko's sudden move. "Any chance you can-" Another hit cut off her plea as Kiyoko levelled the slipper to Hitoshi, the warning clear. She wasn't afraid to hit him either if need be. Hitoshi raised his hand in surrender, an amused smile on his face as he did so.

"I am NOT going to see them!" Switching her language so that Hitoshi couldn't understand her, she addressed the short fury before her as Kiyoko turned the sandal back towards her granddaughter. "I don't want to, can you stop-" Kiyoko hit her in the thigh twice, continuing to glare as she raised the sandal again in warning. Hitoshi turned towards Denki with a shrug, unsure of how to help the situation.

"Stop, stop!" Takara held up her hands to the woman before turning back to the heroes behind the counter. "Where was this found? How important is this?" Kiyoko turned towards the two in assessment, and Denki found the older woman's eyes were as sharp as her granddaughters.

"Someone broke into a producer of castor oi-" The sound of foam hitting skin filled the shop as Kiyoko continued her attack on Takara, cutting off Denki's explanation.

"Fine, fine, I hope you have a hundred customers and they all want to chat!" Takara spat at the woman as she retreated upstairs to grab her bag. "I hope every single one of them has a long, tragic story and they need your help and you can't explain anything! I hope Ash attacks them and you can't explain that he's not a baby panther!" She continued her insults as she descended the stairs again. Hitoshi looked towards the older woman who smiled at him, despite the angry tone Takara's voice held. "I hope you weren't hoping for a nap because you aren't getting one today!"

Takara approached the door, holding it open as the door harp sounded. "Come with me." Takara's voice had calmed suddenly as she addressed the pair. Denki hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should turn his back on the sandal yielding woman who smiled warmly at him. He exited the shop backwards as Hitoshi trailed after them. "Thank-you." He called to Kiyoko over his shoulder, who waved him off as she returned to bagging the blend of herbs.

"Don't thank her." Takara chastised him, gently slapping his shoulder. Denki made a mental note about the casual interaction, already taking stock of what was going on between the pair. He had a lot of questions for Hitoshi later. "It's a bit of a walk." Takara warned, as if trying to discourage the pair of following through on their request.

"We'll call it a patrol!" Denki exclaimed. "Don't be afraid - if any hero business actually pops up you'll be well guarded." Denki levelled Takara with a warm, flirty grin. Partially because she was pretty. Partially because he wanted to get a rise from Hitoshi.

"I've never felt so safe." Takara deadpanned, an unamused look on her face as she examined Denki. The trio had begun walking with Takara being kept between them. "So, you didn't mention you spoke Ruq when we first met." Denki quickly recovered from the woman's dismissal, a coy grin on his face. "Yet Hitoshi seemed to know you would help us translate it." Takara turned, raising her eyebrow at the purple haired hero next to her.

"Oh, did I not mention that when I first met you? So how did you know, 'Toshi?" She teased the man, crossing her arms without breaking her stride. Hitoshi closed his eyes in frustration. "Oh so you both are on a first name basis!" Denki exclaimed much too loudly for Hitoshi's liking. This was going to be a long walk.

The building was oddly nondescript, a grey concrete square with a few floors existing on the corner of a busier intersection. The trio had been walking for about 40 minutes and luckily they hadn't encountered any trouble during that time. The windows of the building were unadorned with little movement inside. The entrance was unmarked and barren except for an intercom which did not have any labels to help Denki or Hitoshi determine what the place was. Takara pushed the grey button, eliciting a buzz from the electrical box.

"Hello?" A robotic voice came through the intercom after a moment, crackling as it did so. Denki and Hitoshi stood behind her as Takara began speaking, pressing the button down. "Hi, hello! I um...I'm looking for Tao Mei." Takara released the button she held, allowing the person on the other end to speak.

"Do you have an appointment?" The disembodied voice questioned. Takara grimaced, turning to look over her shoulder at the pair behind her. "No, I didn't know she uh....well I didn't know she was busy. But it's important." There was silence on the other end as Takara released the button, waiting for a moment before pressing it again. "Listen. Can you just uh..." Her voice trailed off, her hand not leaving the button as she did so. "Tell her it's Takara. Takara Mesothine." Hitoshi and Denki shared a look at the unfamiliar surname as Takara released the button. She ran her nails along the back of her knuckles in a nervous gesture as the intercom remained silent for a few moments. Takara bit her lip - maybe the woman wouldn't want to see her after all.

"Please go to the third floor, second door on your right." A buzz unlocked the door, Takara letting out a shaky breath as it did so. She held the door open for the two men. "So this is a if-you-know-you-know kinda place, huh?" Denki whispered as they took the staircase up.

"It's a lot of things depending on the floor." Takara clarified as they continued their ascent, the concrete steps as non-descript as the exterior of the building. "Community outreach, worship, a place where parties can be held."

"Why is there a priestess here?" Hitoshi questioned, finding the idea odd as they continued upwards. "This is as close to a temple as you'll find for this sect." It wasn't a full explanation, but enough that Hitoshi nodded in understanding. "So please be respectful." She added, looking over her shoulder at Denki.

"I'm nothing if not respectful-" The sentence was cut-off as they exited the stairwell and emerged into a hallway. As non-descript as the exterior of the building was, the interior was decorated and adorned. The walls had been painted an intensely deep and rich red color, contrasting the dark granite flooring that shone under their feet. The light was warm, bright, and recessed into the ceiling so that it almost blended in. The ceiling itself was painted the same color as the walls, which made the space feel like a tunnel.

Paintings adorned the dark walls, lit as though the space was an artist showing- Hitoshi glanced at one in particular which depicted a blonde woman, her formerly white dress stained with blood as it trailed down her body, pooling at her feet. The blood even stained her hair, turning the strands that rested near her shoulders red. The face wasn't fully rendered, as though the woman's features either were impossible to capture or the defining details were not important. The reflection in the pool showed a dark entity, it's face and shape impossible to describe. It was almost otherworldly. "What the fu-" Hitoshi elbowed the blonde man next to him, cutting off the rude comment before it could fully form.

"A depiction of the awakening - Nagati's ascension in an impressionist style." The voice was warm and powerful as smoke pooled at their feet. Denki immediately jumped away, trying to get out of the smoke's path as it began swirling upwards, condensing into a humanoid shape as it did so. Hitoshi took a step back as he reached for his capture weapon, unsure of what to expect. Takara stood a few feet away, her eyes briefly meeting Hitoshi's. They looked apologetic. "Carving herself from the heart of the beast, in doing so both killing and becoming it."

The smoke that had spoken thickened, and before the two stood a tall, pale woman, her back to Takara. She stood a head above Hitoshi and despite her height remained remarkably thin, her collar bones prominent as she surveyed the painting beside her with a look of pride. Her long, dark hair highly contrasted her skin, like a wet ink drop placed onto a fresh page of paper. She dressed in all black, the skintight pants contrasting the lacy top she sported, a dark binding crossing over her chest to give her some modesty. Her dark eyes filled with amusement as she surveyed the shocked pair before a frown crossed her face. "I was told-"

"Tao." The dark eyed woman turned, shock crossing her face as she took in Takara. "Takara." The woman took an almost involuntary step towards the red head, leaving a light trail of smoke in her wake as she did so. The dark haired woman dropped to her knees, seemingly forgetting the heroes presence as she did so.

"I'm sorry." Takara looked down at her former lover in shock at the movement. "Tao, I-" The dark woman continued speaking. "I had no right to ask of you what I did. I'd do anything to take it back. To not be a fool and squander all we had built."

"Tao, this-this isn't the time." Takara sighed. "I'm here with them, they need-"

"They will get whatever it is you desire I give them, once you hear me out. This I swear." Tao declared, not rising from her kneeling position. "I care not if they witness this. My shame deserves to be known." The dark haired woman looked over her shoulder at the pair, her face not reflecting any shame. They were cold, distant as she steeled herself for the coming conversation. Takara opened her mouth and closed it, briefly meeting Hitoshi's questioning eyes as she turned her attention back to the kneeling woman. "Okay. Fine. I'm listening." Takara conceded, nodding as she did so.

"Asking you to abandon your worship in favor of mine...." Tao's eyes met the floor in shame, taking a shaky breath before she continued. "I was scared. Becoming a priestess meant everything to me - means everything to me. I thought holding both my love for you and for Her....that the two would clash. That I had to choose." Tears began falling from the woman's eyes, coming out a thick, inky substance that trailed down her pale face. "I didn't want to choose. I wanted you to share my love-"

"I did. I do." Takara's voice was harsh as she uncrossed her arms, shaking her head as she tried to find the words she was looking for. She took a deep breath before meeting Tao's eyes again. "What you wanted was for me to ignore all other iterations of the Goddess. You knew who I was when we fell in love- You knew I wouldn't abandon Her in all Her forms to favor one. But you gave me an ultimatum anyway."

"Is this a tame cat fight?" Denki whispered as he nudged Hitoshi, the pair being ignored by the two women as they spoke. Hitoshi didn't respond, letting the conversation continue uninterrupted as he shot the man a cold glare. He hadn't expected this - Takara hadn't mentioned any romantic entanglement with the person they would be meeting during their walk here. Hitoshi suppressed the questions he had, making a mental list for Takara later.

"I know now that there was always room in my heart for you both. That my loves could be contradictory and my devotion still unwavering." Tao looked down at the floor almost shamefully, apologetically, unable to meet Takara's eyes.

"You still don't get it!" Takara's voice reflected the frustration she exuded, her teeth clenching as she took a step forward. "I look at it as you favoring a piece of a puzzle. I never thought less of you for not seeing all her faces - for favoring a beautiful corner over the whole picture. I never cared that our love for Her wasn't exactly the same." Takara swallowed, meeting her former lovers eyes. "I would have loved you if you didn't worship Her at all." A traitorous tear slipped from Takara's eye and she rubbed it away with the back of her hand, the words tearing at Tao's heart. "My love for you didn't contradict anything. It only added to the love I had for everything else. Love isn't contradictory, it can't be. It's only contrasting."

Tao had gone silent, watching Takara as she took in the painting that Hitoshi had been admiring. "You're such a good fucking artist." Takara laughed, another tear falling from her eyes as she did so. Tao stood from her kneeling position, closing the distance between her and Takara to stand beside her, surveying the painting alongside her with clasped hands. "The shadows, the contrast to the dress, the short brush strokes - You're so talented." Takara wiped the tear on the back of her hand again before Tao pulled her into a hug, her arms moving slowly as if unsure that Takara would accept it. Takara wrapped her arms around the woman's waist, burying herself in her shoulder.

Denki shuffled uncomfortably, knowing he and Hitoshi were intruding on an intimate moment. Hitoshi watched intently with his brow furrowed. No wonder she didn't want to bring them here and had only done so when threatened by Kiyoko.

"I cannot undo what was done. I cannot take back the horrid words. Even if I am no longer your love, I hope to mend this bridge that I so callously burned." The dark woman placed a kiss on top of Takara's head, prompting a fleeting feeling of jealousy in Hitoshi's stomach. "I miss the light you added to my days." She placed her head atop Takara's, her eyes closed, grateful to be holding Takara again. Hitoshi knew she was breathing in strawberries, the bubble of jealousy growing as the realization sank in.

"I-I don't know right now. You've given me a lot to think about." Takara pulled back as she wiped both her eyes with her palms. Her mascara smeared across her hands as she did so, the dark color transferring to her palms.

"I'll be giving a lecture tomorrow." The woman held out her hand, more smoke condensing into a golden envelope that she held out to Takara. "I know, grandma is running a booth there tomorrow. I'll be helping out." Takara took the envelope regardless, stuffing it into her pocket.

"I heard of Aoto's passing." Takara's eyes snapped up to the woman who looked at her with pity. "His liking has been placed at Nagati's altar for three weeks. He was not alone." Tao smiled gently at Takara, placing a hand on her shoulder in comfort. "You painted him?" Takara smiled wide at that, blinking back tears.

"Of course." Tao assured her, her smile revealing the perfectly white teeth she possessed. "I would trust no one else to do so. It was the least I could offer."

"Thank-you." The pair gazed at each other for a moment before Denki cleared his throat, causing both pairs of eyes to snap to him. Takara blushed lightly and looked away while Tao held his gaze. "So, uh....This translation business." Hitoshi closed his eyes at the poor timing of his partner, but Tao did not seem phased by it.

"My sect has always tried to work closely with the peacekeepers of the realm, even when they looked upon us as untrustworthy." Tao turned towards the pair, her hand not leaving Takara's shoulder as it did so. "Any way we can assist, you will have our help."

"We found this-" Hitoshi pulled the copy of the evidence from his pocket. Tao held out a hand, smoke curling around the letter and bringing it to her to look over. The smoke had felt warm where it had touched Hitoshi's hand. "At a crimescene. We'd like to know what it says."

"That's such a useful quirk." Denki whispered, watching the smoke recede with the letter. "Why didn't you become a hero?" He questioned as his eyes tracked the smoke back to the tall, pale woman.

"There are many ways to be a hero that go beyond the title you wear." Tao's eyes scanned the page, her face remaining neutral. "This will not translate cleanly. It will require context to fully understand. I can provide that, or..." Her voice trailed off as she turned towards Takara. "Once translated, Takara has all the knowledge to help you fully understand this. Whatever is favorable to you-"

"I'll help them." Takara assured her with a small smile. "It sounds like you're taking appointments now. You must be busy-"

"No workload would prevent me from assisting you." Tao cut her off, opening the door to her office as she turned away from the trio. "I will return. Please, help yourself to whatever you like." Tao gestured towards the end of the hallway, the door closing softly behind her.

"Well well well, no wonder you didn't want to bring us here. Your ex, huh?" Takara wiped at her eyes, trying to remove the smudged mascara without being able to see it. "Yeah. I wasn't sure if I was ready for this." Takara turned and started to walk towards where Tao had gestured, the pair trailing behind her down the red hallway as she did so.

"She's hot, is there any chance-" Denki was cut off, shocked by the small waiting room they emerged into. A fridge was in the corner with plush, red lounging chairs contrasting the soft white carpet that lay beneath them. Takara opened the fridge and retrieved a juice, gesturing for the men to do the same.

"If she has grown to like men, that would be news to me. But you're welcome to try. That could be fun to watch." Takara's smile didn't quite reach her eyes as she sat on the couch, twisting the cap on the pineapple juice as she did so.

"Nah, it seems like she has her eyes on you." Denki conceded, grabbing a bottle of water. Takara shrugged as she took a sip of the sweet nectar. "That's also news to me." Takara admitted, a slight blush painting her cheeks as she did so.

Hitoshi had remained silent, not wanting to have this conversation in front of Denki. He wasn't sure if Tao would meet the someone wanting something requirement that Takara had cited earlier. But Takara had seemed hesitant. He suppressed the jealousy he felt, keeping his emotions in line with the expectations he had set out for her. For himself.

"Here." Hitoshi turned in time to watch the smoke morph into flesh, a page held folded in Tao's hand as she did so. It was perched on top of a small red book. "The book will provide context, should Takara be burdened with responsibility."

"Thank-you." Takara said and Tao bowed to her former lover. "If either of you should require any further assistance, please." She held her hand up once again, two business cards appearing from the smoke that she offered to Hitoshi to take. "You can contact me directly." Her eyes looked away to meet Takara's, the dark orbs softening as she did so. "My contact information remains unchanged. I would be elated to hear from you."

"I-Thank-you. I'll keep that in mind. And I'll be there tomorrow." Hitoshi watched the joy appear in Tao's eyes as she gave on firm nod. "Feel free to rest here as long as you need. I unfortunately do have business that requires my attention, but my door is open to you all." Tao once again bowed before disappearing into smoke, which trailed back into her office.

Denki's phone buzzed after a moment and he pulled it from his pocket, quickly looking it over. "Dang. We should get back." Denki sounded defeated as he read the notification before shoving the phone back in his pocket.

"I've got some shopping to do while I'm in this area. You guys can go without me." Takara stood with the pineapple juice still gripped in her hand as the trio made their way down the red hallway before once again descending the concrete stairs. Takara had turned to leave once they had exited the building but was stopped by Hitoshi's light grip on her arm.

"Wait." Hitoshi pulled Takara so she was facing him, gently tilting her head up by placing a hand on her chin. He wiped away the remaining smeared mascara on her face with a gentle hand, his skin warm against her as he did so. "Text me." It wasn't a request, and Takara smiled lightly at him despite the serious look he had painted on his face. "You have my number now too, you know." She teased him as she turned to leave, giving Denki a small wave as she began walking up the street away from them.

"I don't know if you can compete with a hot Priestess." Denki informed Hitoshi as they began the long walk back to the agency, translation finally successful.

"There's no competition. You know I could never actually be with anyone." Hitoshi reminded in a forced monotone voice as Denki rolled his eyes. "Aizawa really turned you into a mini him, huh? All work, no play." Hitoshi opted not to respond as they continued their journey back.

Thanks for reading!

Link to chapter index.

Link to chapter ten.

[bunbeeplays]

The Lemon Legacy: Generation 1, Chapter 55 - Gran and Her Man

Gran happens to be vacationing in Tartosa. Let's catch up!

Ophelia: It’s so good to see you!

Eve: Look at my Fifi, a rising star! I’m so proud of you, sweet pea.

Ophelia: Thanks Gran. I hate to introduce you to a new partner every time I see you lately, but this is Xander.

Xander: It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Lemon. Ophelia’s told me a lot of great things about you.

Eve: Oh you stop with that Mrs. Lemon nonsense. You can call me Eve. Or Gran, if you feel comfortable enough.

Xander: Duly noted.

Ophelia: Oh, you finally get to meet Marshmallow! Say hi to Gran, baby!

Eve: Well hello there, little one.

Marshmallow: i can sense this hooman is almost as wise as me. she can stay.

The walk to Taste of Tartosa is quick enough. Eve takes it as a chance to get to know her granddaughter's new partner more. And build up the courage to mention something else.

Eve: So you’re a bartender, huh? It’s a fun gig. I started tending for a little bit after Rich went off to college and he became a total knob.

Xander: Is that Ophelia’s dad?

Eve: Yeah.

Xander: He IS a total knob.

Eve: I knew I had a good feeling about you.

Before they enter the restaurant, Eve shows the two photos from her trip so far.

Eve: And this is the rental we’re staying at. The view is stunning, and it’s right next to the vineyard we-

Ophelia: You keep saying we. Are you traveling with a friend?

Eve’s typical confidence seems to falter.

Eve: Ah, yeah. That’s another reason I wanted to meet up with you, dear. I wanted to tell you sooner, I just didn’t know how. I think my… friend is waiting for us.

Ophelia: Uh, okay.

A man exits the lobby and walks toward the group.

Kaipo: Hello, you must be Ophelia. Your grandmother has told me many wonderful things about you.

Ophelia: …She's told me nothing about you.

Eve: Dear, this is Kaipo. We became fast friends at the Sulani Community Center, and one thing led to another…

Kaipo leans in for a kiss and Eve certainly doesn't resist.

Ophelia: Huh. I guess we weren't the only ones having a friends-to-lovers arc.

Kaipo: I am excited to learn more about you, Ophelia. Your grandmother thinks very highly of you.

Xander, being the son of the owners, doesn't need a reservation. He and Kaipo go to sit down while the Lemon women talk.

Ophelia: Is there something you want to tell me, Gran?

Eve: Guess the cat's out of the bag. Kaipo and I are seeing each other. I didn't want to upset you.

Ophelia: Gran, I’m not upset. Why would I be? Gramps died a while ago. You deserve to be happy.

Eve: I just know how much you loved your gramps. And how much you miss him. I miss him too, sweetie, I don’t want you to think I don’t.

Ophelia: Of course I don’t think that. Gramps wouldn’t want you to be lonely, and I don’t want you to be lonely either. Kaipo seems like a sweet guy. If he makes you happy, I’m happy.

Gran: Oh, I should have known you’d be supportive, my sweet little Fifi. You’re not so little anymore, are you? You’ve made quite the life for yourself, despite all that life has thrown at you. I’m really proud of the woman you’ve become.

Ophelia: Well, I had a really great woman to look up to as a role model.

Gran: No, you didn’t, your mother sucks.

Ophelia: Gran, I was talking about you!

Gran: Oh. Aww, sweet pea.

Kaipo and Eve tell Ophelia and Xander all about the adventures they've had so far on their trip. Kaipo was a Sulani conservationist for years before he retired. Unlike Eve, he wasn't much of a traveler so seeing the world with her has been exciting.

Her gran is in good hands.

[calliemontgomery]

CHARACTER INTRO:

NAME: Calliope "Callie" Victoria Montgomery

AGE: 36

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Female. She/her.

SEXUALITY/STATUS: Heterosexual. | Single.

OCCUPATION: District Attorney

BIRTHDAY: December 28th, 1987

HOMETOWN: Los Angeles, California.

NEIGHBORHOOD: Riverfoak Farms

FACECLAIM: Candice Patton

BACKGROUND:

TW: KIDNAPPING, DEATH, PREGNANCY.

Born via surrogate, along with her twin brother, Samuel.

Both parents are very successful. Her mother a model, and figurehead. Her father award wining surgeon.

Despite growing up in LA, Covintgon was like a second home to the twins, as that was where their grandparents lived.

Her mother wanted a mini-me for a daughter, one who would love the glitz and glam of Hollywood, instead, she got a girl who wanted to be be successful more like her father.

Only Callie hadn't realized that until a traumatic turn of events took place when she was 15. After a party with her best friend, Harper, they decided to walk home; but they would both be kidnapped.

They were missing for 4 days. Harper would end up killed, while Callie was rescued.

This was extremely traumatic for the young girl, yet, she seemed to bounce back a little too fast. Some would say she never truly dealt with that trauma. It would get worst when the man who kidnapped them would end up free, due to a mistrial.

This is the turning point in which Callie knew she wanted to go into law. Finishing high school, she'd go on to college and law school, topping her classes.

After law school, Callie would move to Covington for good, to be near her brother and his wife.

At 33, she would find herself landing the position of DA. For years she was all work, and very little play. So, it was a surprise that within the same year as her promotion, she'd find that she was pregnant.

in 2019, she gave birth to her daughter, who she named Harper, after her late friend, and Rose after her grandmother.

In 2021, she would adopt a mainecoone cat that she named Stormy.

Despite being married to her work, and a single mother, she manages to keep up both ends rather well. Of course with help of her brother, and his wife, and occasionally her parents. Which she is extremely grateful for.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

FRIENDS/FRIENDLY RELATIONSHIP: Despite being a work horse, she is still a rather cool person to hang around. With becoming a mom, on top of her job, it did shorten her free time even more. But her brother does try to get her to go out and have some kind of social life. Or at least, just give her a break. This could be coffee friends, work out friends, even mom friends.

ENEMIES/I DON’T REALLY LIKE YOU: Not everyone likes everyone.

EXES/FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS/HOOK UPS (M/NB): Despite really not having time for relationships, she somehow manages to have a long list of ex-lovers. Very few serious. Most hook ups, as she has needs, and she likes them met. She does have a handful of exes that was serious, and it could've ended badly on either side to be honest. Or well. She definitely dated more freely in college.

BABY DADDY: To be honest, I don't assume she actually knows who her daughter's dad is. In my head, she had slept with two different men around the time she got pregnant. Instead of really figuring out who it was, she kinda just told them both that the other one was the dad. And they went with it. She always knew she wanted to be a mom, and she always figured she'd do it on her own. This way just saved her a trip to the bank. (Even tho deep down, she would love nothing more then the whole fairy tale love story. But she is a realistic, and her career comes before a relationship.)

COWORKERS: Anyone who works in law, cops, lawyers, etc, would very likely know of Callie Montgomery. Rather it's friendly or not, is up for debate.

CLIENTS: Anyone who's been in legal trouble.

TRULY ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING, FOR REAL. I JUST WANNA LOVE ON Y’ALL AND BE LOVED. OK THANK YOU

ABOUT PAGE | PINTEREST | PLAYLIST | DISCORD is matileex

[the-book-queen]

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[bearbaitmegs]

What I Wish I'd Said At My Grandmother's Funeral

Nobody spoke up at my grandmother’s funeral. The pastor’s mouth grew a little thinner and he pushed on. My mother was too devastated to speak. My uncle was ready for it all to be over with. I was disappointed her siblings, in her friends, in myself. I wish I’d had something prepared, but I didn’t know what to say at the last minute. I had been fixated on my own life and nobody had mentioned that it was an option. Her obituary said that she loved to knit. That was wrong. She crocheted. I was annoyed with my uncle over it. Nobody stepped up to talk about how much they might have loved her. Our audience counted only twelve. I wish I were braver. Bravery is an action.

It was on my grandmother’s deathbed this spring that I learned, for the first time, that there was a poet humming inside of her. Her personality blurred by dementia, she was overflowing with it. Couplets and cowboy poetry and limericks and Shakespeare quotes. She was catty and funny and quick with wit. If she had ever put any of her poems to paper in her 84 years, they are all lost now.

I think my grandmother was a lover of beautiful things, perhaps from a lack of kindness in her youth. She was born to a single mother at a time when it was almost impossible for single mothers to raise their daughters, and though the stepfather that came after bore her three beloved siblings to raise as her own, I suspect living with him was worse than living in poverty, for reasons we can all guess but daren’t name. She never found out who her father was.

In the end, she married a man who was also broken. She left him at the altar once and they later reunited while she bore another man’s child. My grandfather was a deeply loving man, who strived to do better than his own father had done by him, and while he succeeded it was rife with heavy failures. He was a physical man, to his wife, to his children, often to their detriment. She didn’t often stop him. I believe she knew it as a simple and universal fact of life: that to love is to fear.

He died some 22 years before her. A lifetime. My grandmother had a second adolescence with his passing, which I, at the time, was too young to appreciate and celebrate her for. Her children never forgave her for falling in love again, though the relationship eventually softened into neglect. She outlived all of her lovers. She outlived her oldest son.

My grandmother was a skilled sewer. She made clothes for her children and clothes for her grandchildren. I still have the dress she made me in fourth grade. She made many, many outfits for porcelain dolls. She made doilies. She gardened. She smoked. She loved roses. She won ribbons at state and county fairs for her cooking, though at home it was commonly burned. She loved sequins and tassels and Elvis Presley. She always had her nails done. She lived her fifties like most of us do in our twenties: winning karaoke contests in Las Vegas and getting shots poured down your throat on stage. She loved cats. She liked card games and fashion magazines and soap operas and bodice ripping romance novels. I suspect romance, as I have known it in my life, was deeply absent from hers. She collected souvenir spoons and I never asked why. She didn’t know how to manage money or bills, but I suspect that no one took the time to show her how after my grandfather died. After he passed, she grew out her hair for the first time since they’d been married. It was lovely and white. For the first time since she was young, she was allowed to be pretty. I suspect she had a disorder of some kind, though I can’t say what. She struggled to keep track of time, to put the timer on, often was caught up in distractions. I don’t know what her favorite color was. When I inherited her car, I named it after her.

The self-neglect was always there, a by-product of her youth, and by the time I was old enough to understand what was happening it was too late to treat it. Trying to take care of her final years made my mother ill and when we gave up, my older uncle was resentful and my younger uncle became numb, more concerned with being embarrassed by her in public than her well-being. I know she got lost trying to find her way home several times. They kept asking why she didn’t care, but followed that up with asking why she couldn’t change. None of us loved her enough to take care of her until the end. In my mother’s case, she was not well enough; the stress making a ghost of her. I remember my mother begging her to change long after the possibility had passed.

My mother got the call about my grandmother’s impending end in January of 2024. They anticipated that she had four weeks left. Surrounded, for some time, by family and support and visitors, she rallied for four long months, as if being on the receiving end of love had brought her back to life again. Love in those moments was aggressively unconditional, as it should have been already.

I was her only granddaughter. My brother, her only grandson; he couldn’t make it to her funeral and I know it will scar him for years to come, one of many. When we sent her packing back to Seattle, there was no decision I could make that would relieve me of regret, so I took the one that was easier in the moment. My grandmother was not always kind to my mother and in those small moments where her own resentment came biting, I shied away as well. I have always been estranged from most members of my family and when confronted with them I regress and grow quiet.

I never felt close to her, though we tried. I know she spent her last years dearly lonely. I know I am one of many who bear fault in that. I remember going strawberry picking with her when I was very small, before the fields were paved over for new car lots, making gallons and gallons of red jam. I remember dying my hair that same color in her bathtub, many years later.

I still have the baby blanket she made in preparation for my birth and I always will. I still have the sewing machine she gifted me for my 10th birthday. It still works.

I placed her urn into the ground myself and left it with a bright red lipstick kiss on top. My uncle couldn’t stand to touch it. My mother was a walking wound. I didn’t take enough pictures. The urn was plastic. I hate it for being plastic. If I’d known beforehand, I would have made something better for her.

I think I would have made something crocheted.

[fantasiesandfolklore]

The Phoenix Queen — Relta Fun/Misc Facts [Part I of ?]

CW: Very mild lemons (more like a sour orange), death in childbirth mention, slavery mention, colonization mention, illegitimate children

Relta bleaches her hair at times to keep it clean, subsequently being a strawberry blonde at times.

Relta is a skilled combatant even without magic, knowing how to use a variety of sword/blade types — including foreign ones — and is knowledgeable about poisons and antidotes as well.

Relta makes her own perfumes in the little free time she has

At age 25 Relta became her father’s regent, which is uncommon in Lunaruz, but her father was becoming too bloodthirsty and The Council decided he needed to be reined in a bit. Thus Relta being Princess Regent of Lunaruz until her coronation at age 30.

Relta’s FCs are Charlotte Hope (up to 25 years old) and Rebecca Ferguson (25+)

Relta’s voice claim is Susan Egan (Meg from Disney’s Hercules [1997] / The first Belle from BATB on Broadway), including her singing voice

Relta is a polyglot, including local dialects and allies’ languages

Relta has a special, secret chamber attached to her bedroom and meeting room for “special guests” (aka her lovers). She has a variety of “fun” things in said chamber, and it is decorated beautifully.

Relta is a collector of antique/ancient books, tomes, and scrolls.

Relta has a professional dog handler that helps her train her wolf-dog.

Relta also has a cat, as of age 16, that is her familiar.

Doves, dolphins, sparrows, swans, hares, geese, bees, fish, and butterflies are all fond of the Queen as well due to her being connected to Lady Aphrodite.

Relta loves sailing, and is excited when she gets to go on overseas diplomatic missions. She is an excellent passenger, along with also knowing basics of sailing a large ship.

Relta named the first ship built for the Navy after her great-grandmother, calling it the Charlotte de Lunaruz. It was used for the entirety of Relta’s reign, retiring only when she did.

Relta stepped down from the throne five years late, as she knew there was unrest regarding her heir also being a woman.

Relta identifies as, in modern terms, bisexual and demiromantic/biromantic. She suppresses her romantic side though.

Relta adores children and is the godmother to many of her allies’ and friends’ children. She spoils all of them, but not spoiling them rotten of course.

Relta sets up the first steps toward becoming a democracy in the end of her reign, knowing her heir would continue the work and end the monarchy’s reign at their resignation.

Relta kept diaries since she was able to write proper letters, developing a cipher for them so no one would know the political notes she took. Only her father and Lady Aislin (half-sister) know how to decipher the diaries.

Relta makes jewelry out of any gifts from friends, such as crystals or flowers.

Relta’s favorite flower is the Lunaruzian White Lavender, which only grows in Lunaruz and is an albino mutation of lavender. It is in most of her self made perfumes, and there is always a bouquet of it in her room.

After using magic on a large scale (such as in combat), Relta gets migraines, and hides out in her chambers for about three days each time

The “color” of Relta’s magic, and thus the weapons she materializes, is crimson.

Relta’s personal coat of arms, not the family’s or Lunaruz’s, include a crest with pomegranates and Lunaruzian White Lavender, with a dove on one side holding an olive branch and a phoenix on the other side. It is embroidered somewhere on all her clothing.

Relta is a skilled archer and fencer, finding the hobbies in her teens after she read all the books of interest that she was allowed access to as a youth.

Literacy rates in Lunaruz went to 100% under Relta’s reign within the first ten years.

Relta’s favorite fruits are oranges and pomegranates, both of which grow in various areas of Lunaruz. She uses them for her rituals rather often as well.

Relta can communicate with spirits and deities due to her small amount of divine blood — the same blood that gives her such powerful magic. She mainly focuses on her patroness (Aphrodite Areia) and patron (Thoth).

Relta took a pilgrimage to the Mediterranean's equivalent in this verse to see what would for us be Greece, along with seeing what would be Egypt.

Relta’s love languages are primarily quality time and gift giving.

Relta has a small scar on her right palm from a ritual done in her youth when she was declared to the public as Aphrodite Areia incarnated. It never healed properly due to the properties of the blade used — it being of one of the few substances able to hurt or kill Relta and her relatives.

Relta raises her bastard niece in court, declaring the girl her ward but never explaining why to anyone except some of her more trusted lovers. She instead just says she wanted to give back to the people of Lunaruz, and this “orphan girl” was her first step. She began raising Eleanor beginning when Eleanor was age 5, first having the young child be raised by her grandmother for safety.

Eleanor and Relta adore each other, Eleanor knowing the secret as she sees how much she looks like Relta and King Ares. She initially thought she was a secret child of Relta’s until she learned about the king’s second daughter who died in childbirth.

Relta is why Lunaruz was kept out of the Crusades (yes, they still happened…), insisting upon religious freedom. The Pope nearly cut ties with Lunaruz over this, until Relta explained in her kingdom, laws for freedom of religion were specifically made for monotheists like Catholics and had to bite his tongue.

Relta’s youngest sibling, Lady Madeline, was essentially Relta’s daughter due to Lady Madeline’s own mother having no interest in giving King Ares more female offspring, and trying for a son until she died. Lady Madeline is Lady Eleanor’s mother, which is part of why Relta is so fond of Eleanor. Lady Madeline may have died in childbirth, but Relta was at her side when she delivered Eleanor despite the king forbidding it.

Relta’s birthday, based on our calendar system, is June 21st 1485 (sub-verse dependent). [I will expand on this in another post]

Relta’s childhood friend was, for a time, her world/universe’s version of Catherine of Aragon. She warned Catherine about Henry, for Henry had hit on Aislin himself much to Relta’s disgust at the time despite the two being closer in age compared to Henry and CoA.

Relta is anti-colonialism and anti-slavery. She enacts many laws protecting Lunaruz from these issues. It is also why Lunaruz never became an “empire”, as it had no colonies.

Relta loathes war, yet under her reign the military was the strongest it’d ever been in Lunaruzian history — especially the Navy.

A ship was named after Relta, called The Phoenix, and bears Relta’s personal crest on its flag.

If she were to take a modern DNA ancestry test, most of Relta’s results would line up with our world/universe’s: Greece, Scotland, Rus (Russia), and Spain.

Relta loathes her step-parents, despite Lord Heron’s attempts to win her over as he truly loved her mother for more than just a spiteful affair.

Relta is 10 years Aislin’s senior, and 12 years Madeline’s senior. She took on an extra protective role over them because of this and despite hating their parents.

[jasminesilk]

They moved into their new home straight after graduation.

side note: I like to imagine these two are moving into Asuka’s late grandmother’s most recent home (the one she lived in after Asuka moved out up until she passed away), which her granduncle (grandmother’s younger brother) kept for her as a graduation gift. Therefore the downstairs space is furnished in a way that isn’t quite to either of their tastes... but as freshly graduated university students with very little savings they can’t complain. 

[bogleech]

I have received confirmation that Star Wars aliens are indeed an unfamiliar topic to the average person these days. Growing up I knew it as the biggest fiction fandom in the world, which only really changed around 2000 when Pokemon and then Harry Potter became more exciting to kids. Until I got into Pokemon myself, Star Wars creatures were definitely my own biggest hyperfixation. So this is the kind of thing I just assume EVERYONE who follows me is already familiar with but here are my top 5 Star Wars aliens, with lore that I promise I’m not making up no matter how stupid it ever gets:

Dice Ibegon: a hand puppet seen for literally one second in the Cantina scene, actually some kind of sandworm-like prop. A published “Expanded Universe” story, i.e. canon at the time, decided Dice was a female “Lamproyd” who could see through time with her force powers, and also that the wolfman here, Lak Sivrak, was her lover. Both their species gauged sexiness by nothing but deadliness, see, and they’re both apex predators from their home planets, or something. Part of their relationship was based on the fact that she can see his inevitable moment of death.

As an aside, the special editions digitally replaced Lak Sivrak with an elephant monster because he was really always just a store-bought generic werewolf mask and George Lucas thought it looked too awful. I do not think anyone ships Dice with this nobody.

BUBOICULLAAR: I loved this froggy guy so much, seen momentarily in Jabba’s palace, that I used to pretend to be him like other little kids pretended to be a dog or cat sometimes. Another published canon story reasoned that he was a highly sapient being but his species survives partially by pretending to be dumb animals and even playing the part of pets. Another alien implanted a bomb in Bubo to try and assassinate Jabba but Bubo easily removed it and used it to blow up the assassin instead, not because he cares about Jabba the Hutt but because the guy was going to use him as a bomb

LOJE NELLA: this prop was nicknamed “Toadstool Terror” by the production crew, and I saw it referenced in a book without any pictures, so it tormented me for many years trying to figure out who “Toadstool Terror” was. It wasn’t even readily available information on the internet for years; I actually scoured books and magazines about “Return of the Jedi’s development and eventually I did spot this alien, correctly deducing that this had to be Toadstool Terror because of the mossy mushroom shape. Loje Nella never got much of a story added, just the “real name.” Conceptual artwork shows her with a tapering worm body and a pair of cricket-like legs, but some HACK at some point apparently gave her a humanlike body for a random book cover and other HACKS thought that was the canon design of her species.

“WOL CABBASHITE:” a thing stuck on the ceiling in only this shot with a tongue that wiggles around. The name was given by a Star Wars magazine which established that these are force-sensitive, barnacle-like intelligent aliens who live for thousands of years.

AMANAMAN: this is the alien people originally compared to a big dick but I thought he looked like a cross between a frog and a banana and I thought he was the coolest thing ever. I especially thought he was cool because he just looked weird, awkward and kind of goofy yet he carries around a bunch of rotting human heads and even part of a carcass. I actually saw him in a magazine about creature effects before I even knew he was from Star Wars and he gave me nightmares, so he was basically a bogeyman to me at 5 or 6 years old. Said magazine was in my late Grandmother’s ultra-creepy basement so I associate him with exactly that place. It had an unfinished wall that opened into a deep, dark crawlspace so that’s where he lived. Expanded Universe lore just reasoned he was from a race of like, tribalistic jungle headhunters which I always thought was lazy and bad. Unfortunately that’s still in the Disney canon. We’re really out here still assuming the first alien we see represents an entire planet’s culture??? I think Amanaman is just a twisted fucker is all. I think this is like aliens see Leatherface running around and assume that’s just what humans are.