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yumikk101 · 18 days ago

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Beneath Natlan's Sun

Characters: Kinich, Ajaw

Pairing: Kinich x Reader (Slow Burn)

Type: Romantic, Adventure, Action

Word Count: One-Shot

Genre: Romance, Action, Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T (for mild violence, blood, and action scenes)

Warnings: Mild violence, injuries

Idea by

This story explores the developing relationship between Kinich and the reader through the course of a single, action-packed day. The romance is slow-burn and filled with subtle, meaningful moments, paired with the thrill of survival in the dangerous desert of Natlan. If you love childhood friend dynamics, mutual respect, and emotional depth, this one's for you!

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The sun rose like a massive, burning eye, casting a blistering light over Natlan. Its harsh rays cut through the horizon, bathing everything in a fiery orange glow. The wind, warm and dry, swept across the rugged landscape, carrying with it the scent of dust

You adjusted the straps of your leather satchel, filled with healing herbs and tools, and glanced across, where you could see Kinich standing, his figure a silhouette against the rising sun. His Claymore was slung across his back, and beside him, his ever-present companion Ajaw hovered, his form like a shimmering shadow

Kinich. The thought of his name brought a gentle warmth to your chest. You had known him since you were both children. The two of you had grown up together in the quiet village at the base of the jagged cliffs that lined Natalan. He was a son of the land, a saurian hunter by tradition, while you had always been the village's healer, tending to the wounds of those who returned from the harsh days of hunting

He turned to face you, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re late,” he teased, his voice carrying over the wind, his eyes scanning you with a mix of amusement and something deeper, something unspoken

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “And you’re always on time. A true model of punctuality,” you shot back, though your voice was gentle

Ajaw, who had been floating nearby, scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourselves. You’re just wasting time. We’re here to hunt, not to exchange pleasantries.”

“Enough, Ajaw,” Kinich said, his voice a calm command, though his gaze never left you. There was always a quiet affection in his eyes when he looked at you—one that you pretended not to notice, though it made your heart race every time

Ajaw grumbled but didn’t argue further, instead drifting off to the side, clearly eager to get started. You and Kinich exchanged a glance, silently agreeing to move on

Natalan stretched out before you like an ocean of orange, a vast and unforgiving wilderness where survival depended on sharp instincts and unwavering focus

You walked beside Kinich as the three of you ventured deeper into the arid landscape, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the shifting soil beneath you. Kinich’s claymore was poised in his hand, his sharp eyes scanning the terrain for any sign of movement. You, as the village’s healer, kept a watchful eye on his form, your gaze lingering on the familiar way his muscles flexed with each stride

“You’re quiet today,” Kinich remarked, his voice breaking the silence

You shrugged, trying to ignore the heat that rose to your cheeks. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” His voice was gentle, inquisitive, a stark contrast to Ajaw’s usual mocking tone

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to put the words into something that made sense. “About how much has changed, I suppose. The village... the people… and us.”

He slowed his pace, turning slightly to meet your eyes, the weight of his gaze making your breath hitch in your throat. “We’re still here. Together.”

His words were simple, yet they carried a depth of meaning that you felt all the way to your bones. You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Together.”

Ajaw let out a derisive laugh from above, but neither of you paid him any mind. It was rare to have moments like these—moments where you and Kinich could speak freely, without the pressure of his duty weighing him down

Natalan was never silent for long. As you walked deeper into the ravine, the faint sounds of movement reached your ears—soft scratching, the shifting of scales. You froze, and Kinich did the same. He motioned for you to step back slowly, and you obeyed, heart pounding in your chest

Ajaw hovered above, his eyes gleaming. “There’s something coming. Something big.”

The ground shook slightly, and then you saw it—a massive saurian, its leathery skin blending with the environment, its eyes glowing a dangerous orange. It let out a terrifying hiss before lunging forward, its claws slashing through the air

Kinich sprang into action, his Claymore flashing as he darted forward to engage the creature. The fight was chaotic, the saurian’s powerful tail whipping through the air, narrowly missing Kinich. You felt your heart race as you watched him dodge the creature’s attacks with fluid movements

“Stay back!” he shouted at you, his voice firm

But you couldn’t stay back—not when you saw the wound on his side, a long gash where the saurian’s claws had scraped him. Without thinking, you rushed forward, reaching into your satchel for the healing herbs you kept there. The smell of crushed leaves filled the air as you tossed a vial at the saurian, temporarily stunning it

“Kinich, get back!” you urged, fear creeping into your voice

He ignored your warning and continued to fight, but the saurian was relentless, its sheer strength overwhelming. You watched helplessly as it knocked Kinich off his feet, the sound of his body hitting the ground echoing through the ravine

“No!” You rushed to his side, grabbing his hand as he tried to rise

“Go,” he grunted, pain evident in his voice. “I’ll be fine.”

But you shook your head, clutching him tighter. “I’m not leaving you. Not now. Not ever.”

With a surge of adrenaline, you found yourself on your feet, grabbing your knife from your belt and charging at the saurian. With a swift motion, you plunged the blade into its side, narrowly avoiding its claws as it screamed in fury

Kinich, still on the ground, reached for his Claymore. His voice, though strained, was filled with determination. “Get back, it’s too dangerous—”

But you didn’t listen. You knew what was at stake. You knew that this was more than just a fight. This was a test of everything you had learned as a healer, everything you had learned about how far you would go for the ones you loved...

The dust settled as the saurian collapsed, its massive body thudding heavily against the ground. You fell to your knees beside Kinich, your hands shaking as you pressed them against his wound, the blood soaking through your fingers

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice trembling as you looked down at him

He nodded, though his breathing was ragged. “I’ll live. But you… you should’ve stayed back.”

You shook your head, not caring about his reprimands. “I couldn’t let you face that alone.”

Ajaw floated overhead, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, that was certainly a spectacle. Perhaps you should consider retiring from hunting and take up an acting career.”

“Enough, Ajaw” Kinich said with a grunt, though there was a small smile on his face

You reached into your satchel and pulled out a healing paste, gently applying it to Kinich’s wound. The soothing balm seemed to take effect immediately, and his pained expression softened

“I’m not letting you do this alone again,” you whispered, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead

Kinich met your gaze, his eyes holding something deeper than gratitude—something raw, something that made your heart skip a beat. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Ajaw interrupted

“You two are hopeless,” Ajaw muttered, rolling his eyes

By nightfall, the three of you made camp by the edge of the ravine. The fire crackled, casting long shadows over the ground, and the only sounds were the distant howls of the wind and the occasional hiss from Ajaw

You sat beside Kinich, your legs crossed beneath you as you tended to the fire. The healing process had drained you, but the satisfaction of knowing you had saved him, knowing that you had protected the person you cared about most, filled you with a warmth that no sun could match

Kinich glanced over at you, his eyes reflecting the firelight. “You know… you’re something else.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “I mean… I don’t know many people who would risk their lives like that. For me.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, but you tried to play it cool. “I didn’t do it for you,” you teased. “I did it for myself.”

“Oh, really?” He leaned closer, his voice low and soft. “Then why didn’t you run?”

You met his gaze, your throat suddenly dry. “Because… I couldn’t.”

Kinich didn’t say anything for a long moment. His hand brushed against yours, tentative, as if testing the waters. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, everything else— the saurians, Ajaw’s mocking voice—faded into the background

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Kinich finally whispered

And that was enough...

Author note: sorry this one is not so long I'm considering writing a part two with more events in it but I've been experiencing writer's block a lot recently and this one specifically I just couldn't generate good ideas for it sorry to the person that requested it if it's not what you wanted 😭

I love you all and thank you so much for reading I'll try my best to post more once I'm feeling creative again ✨

#fictional #fictional characters #genshin #genshin characters #genshin fandom #fictional men #genshin fanfic #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #kinich genshin #genshin kinich #kinich fanfic #kinich fluff #kinich

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justwinginglife · 18 days ago

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Built The Same

25 Days of Simpmas: Day Five December 5th: Kyoya Ootori, Rank 21 Anime: Ouran High School Host Club Event Masterlist

“You’re a dangerous woman, what makes you think I’d make a deal with you?”

You leaned forward, propping your chin up on your hands, as you simply stated, “Because you’re a dangerous man. Don’t you want to find out how lethal we could be together?”

Kyoya pushed his glasses up, pretending to ponder a moment. But you knew him better than that. He was just like you. He couldn’t resist this opportunity anymore than you could. In fact, you’d been wanting to partner with him for a while now and you were sure that even if he didn’t hold the same interest as you, he was at the very least curious about this partnership. After a moment, a smirk spilled across his face. “And what’s in it for me?”

“Oh, not much. Just the world on a silver platter.”

“And what do you want in return?”

“Oh, not much. Just the sun and the moon. Seems a fair trade for the world, don’t you think?”

He laughed. “You’re quite bold, I’ll give you that. Alright, I accept your proposal.”

You grinned devilishly. “I figured you would. And to show my enthusiasm for our newly formed partnership, I’ve brought you a gift.” You slid an envelope across the table to him.

He raised a brow, cautiously examining the envelope before accepting it. “Quite presumptuous of you to have brought a gift assuming I would say yes.” He handled the envelope with care, as though its contents might include a paper thin explosive. With you, he could never know.

He was intimidating in terms of status; he could mobilize the full force of the Ootori family’s resources in an instant, simply on a whim. But you were intimidating in your own, quiet way. You were dangerous in a subtle manner, using the advantage of your gender to make people trust you, to make people underestimate you, and your speciality was dealing in secrets and scandal. So he was all the more cautious around you.

When he finally, delicately, retrieved a stack of photos from inside the envelope, his eyes widened at the pictures laid out before him. It was well known throughout the school that the Ootoris were one of the richest families in Japan. It was also well known that the Nakamuras came from almost equally vast wealth and were competitors of the Ootori family. As the relationship between the two families was a vicious one, Kyoya saw no issue in accepting your gift. He was sure it had a price, but the benefit was too great, seeing as how these very photos had the potential to incite chaos for the Nakamuras. And of course, with your position, you were the only one who could have provided these photos, making you a valuable asset indeed. “Oh, you naughty little minx. I think I’m going to enjoy this partnership of ours. Very much.”

And that was that.

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“You’re making a mistake.”

Kyoya crossed his arms, staring you down. “Just because we’re partners doesn’t mean I have to take into consideration everything you say.”

“So bet me on it. I bet half my family’s wealth that I’m right. Would you be willing to bet half of yours?”

Kyoya raised a brow curiously. “You’re really going to be this stubborn about it?”

“Kyoya. When have I ever been wrong?”

“This could be a first.”

“It won’t.”

“Half your wealth, you say? Not confident enough to bet all of it?” He smirked.

“I’m not confident enough that YOU’D bet all of your wealth. I was being considerate.” You retorted.

He shook his head, chuckling. “Alright. Have it your way. We go with your plan.”

If he was honest with himself, he knew that it was fairly uncommon for him to disagree with you and that, most of the time, he ended up going with your plans anyway, but he liked to make you work for it. Liked to make you prove that you were confident enough in your own abilities. And as much as you tried to appear calm and collected, he still drove you CRAZY.

Of course, anyone intelligent would confirm the reliability of their partner before working with them, but the particular way in which he pushed your buttons almost made you think he had the schematics to your brain laid out before him, tugging a lever here, turning a knob there, until he’d gotten you all wound up, just the way he liked it. But, after enough time working with him, you knew that his wires ran the same way yours did, his cogs turned in an identical fashion, and if he had the blueprint to your machinery, then you had the blueprint to his, so you pushed his buttons right back.

If he acquired a new asset, you acquired two. If he made an alliance, you waged a war; if he waged a war, you made an alliance. If he said that bribery was the solution, you’d counter with blackmail; if he conceded to blackmail, you’d repropose bribery; if he agreed with bribery, you’d circle back around to blackmail until he realized that you weren’t simply weighing options- you were testing his patience.

But though it seemed on the surface like you were both getting nowhere, driving each other up and down walls, round and round in circles, in a never ending cycle, together, you made more of a difference than you ever could’ve alone. If he brought the rain, you brought the thunder. If he brought the fire, you brought the gasoline. And nothing could stop you.

Recently, the Student Council had been having ideas about opposing the Host Club and bringing about its demise. Most of the Council were made up of men and they’d grown bitter about having their romantic prospects taken away from them by members of the club. Now you could’ve easily paid for their submission or threatened their livelihood, but with Kyoya by your side, ambitions easily became reality and the two of you were eager to test the bounds of this new ability. So you filled their heads with talks of a maid cafe, created solely in their honor, even going so far as to throw in exclusive benefits only for the members of the Student Council, and while you drained every male student alive, council member or not, of all their money once the maid cafe opened, Kyoya made plans to replace all the Council members with either Host Club employees or his band of loyalists, reserving the roles of President and Vice President solely for you and him. So now, the two of you sat on thrones, in a league of your own, above all of Ouran Academy, ruling with all the power of the Council and all the wealth you’d amassed from both clubs. And it might have even been terrifying... if you weren’t so busy being in love.

You’d refused to admit it at first, and being as alike as you were, Kyoya also refused to admit it.

But there was no way to mistake the way you looked for him in between classes, or the way he made up reasons to host “Student Council meetings” that only the two of you needed to attend, or the way you insisted it was vital that you exchange contact information, or the way he kept you late after meetings so that he could freely insist he had to accompany you home for protection, never minding that you could afford a bodyguard or two or ten.

So you could’ve been a tyrant, you could’ve made students scrub the floor at your feet and roll out the red carpet as you walked, you could’ve imposed taxation, claiming profits from every club in existence purely for your own benefit, but no. You had to go and fall in love.

So now you were using this power of yours to propose later start times for classes because you knew Kyoya hated waking up early. Now you were handling the quiet termination of a teacher who’d disrespected Kyoya by saying he’d never have as much potential as his older brothers. Now you were creating excuses for Kyoya not to appear as a host so you could have him all to yourself.

And Kyoya was doing the same damn thing for you.

You’d noticed the sudden appearance of a pastry chef in the school, and when astounded that he just so happened to specialize in making all your favorite desserts, you’d discovered that Kyoya was the mastermind in arranging for his employment here. Your feelings for him were cemented when you watched him -the man who infamously disliked sweets- choke down a sugary dessert just so you’d be encouraged to eat as many treats as you liked, because after all, he had gone to all the trouble of finding a pastry chef just for you.

And when the class trip that was supposed to be held in Kyoto got changed to Okinawa at Kyoya’s command because he remembered when you said in passing that you’d never been to Okinawa and had always wished you could go, you couldn’t help but fall even harder for him.

And when he kissed you on the beach, in the city of your dreams, you knew you would be in love with him forever. If he wanted to conquer the world, you’d be at his side. If he wanted to retire to the country, you’d ready the picket fences. And if he just wanted you, well then you were already his for life.

When he brought the rain, you’d bring the thunder, but if he brought the sun, you’d bring the blue skies, and if he loved you, you’d love him harder.

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @minasfwoopyponytail @ouiouimochi @inkytypewriter

#kyoya ootori #ohshc kyoya #ohshc #ouran hshc #ouran high school host club #ouran host club #kyoya ootori x reader #anime fanfic #han's library

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five-thousand-loaves-of-bread · 28 days ago

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cry tears of puddles on ground here some incoherent snippets of what text partner about silco jinx father daughter dynamic that am going insane over rn hands n knees on ground begging sobbing n too busy do that to clean up or be coherent - n idk how much actual media analysis support by show evidence n how much it just me imagine things self insert wishful thinking - n there also may be from a few to many undescribed screenshots of season 1 because god have 100+ in camera roll

weak for father child esp found father child trope imperfect father but i will love you unconditionally i will try to be the best father can be for you even if i am irreparably messed up and so are you & imperfect child traumatized act out slowly losing grip with reality n will lash out will be rebellious ruin us all but you’ll be the best father i’ve ever had

(no diss on vanco tho)

him clumsily lift arm n hesitate n not know what to do not know if he should do not know how to do

subtle facial expression from “what’s going on what do i do” -> sadness (for powder n for his younger self) -> anger n determined n vengeful (for power n for his younger self) in span of seconds

“you’re my daughter. i’ll never forsake you.”

“don’t cry. you’re perfect.” AS HIS LAST WORDS

“show them. we’ll show them all” his voice echo after his death as she shoot missile. n she did. she did!!!!! to have so many people growing up not believe in her think her useless say that to her face - n her figure out how to use gemstone BY SELF with no previous guide!!! with no upside tech with only what she can get there!! build bombs now even viktor n jace n those people say near impossible disassemble without explode in face. n entire time silco believe in her BELIEVE IN HER SUPPORT HER. WE’ll show them. WE. n THEY DID!!!! they did!!! together!!!! he’s dead by time she fire missile but they really did. the fact his voice echo with her as she do it, fact that animation flash to his body as she do it— also fact that. every step of way they did. she top most demanded by name person, most threatening person.

doctor scene “are you ready to lose her” “she can take it.” FATHER

believing in her bc she can because she HIS daughter n HIS daughter can take it n also believing in her because he needs to he needs her so she will take it she make it she HAS TO because he can’t lose her he can’t be without her

a father who did objectively HORRIBLE things. with SHITTY morals but also REALLY HOPEFUL (word choice) ones in twisted way.

be complicated character who is shitty for flooding undercity with drugs be drug lord but in same time doing that because he truly want zaun freedom - like think it important emphasize its. not HIM be ruler of zaun at least not directly phrased that way but fact that zaun freedom. like he very much could just directly say “one day zaun be free n am rule over” but he didn’t say second part. he not altruistic by any means but also!!!! he is???

all that complicated cruel will-do-anything-to-achieve-his-goal-beyond-himself villain-ness in direct contract with having the ONE SOFT SPOT of his daughter who FUCKS SHIT UP who is DIFFICULT who UNCONTROLLABLE UNPREDICTABLE n he loves her UNCONDITIONALLY he spoils her gives her so many lee way

the fact that someone so fucked up someone so actively make things difficult for him. can be loved

no am don’t have issues at all

also calling jinx difficult n fucked up n ruin things with all love in world not in derogatory way. because. it’s like. am fucked up. am difficult. am severely traumatized. am want burn whole world down for leaving me behind for betray me. in many people eye am more trouble me than am worth. n idea of. a father who love me just the way that am call me perfect. even if. [ ].

n to call someone like that. perfect

n to. mean it.

to genuinely see n treat her as perfect

even after she mistakenly shoot you killing you - to be constantly put in jeopardy by her fucked up ness to be harmed n killed by her fucked up ness. to see mistake as just that - mistake. n to forgive you for that no questions asked to love you unconditionally despite that or even because of that. for her mistake cost you your life n for your last word be tell her don’t cry, that she perfect.

down to willing give up his whole dream whole goal whole purpose he fought for all these fucking years - thing he gave his entire life towards.

because he refuse give her up he refuse leave her abandon her use her as pawn

“you’re my daughter. i’ll never forsake you.” like genuinely truly believe he mean this he truly won’t take the deal with upside even if that mean zaun freedom because he refuse abandon jinx. he not just saying it to be manipulative or just saying be lying because he’s tied up with her have gun beside her he know she very much may fire

his “everyone betrayed you/us but i’ll never. am gave you everything” may be see as “you have no one but me” manipulative n maybe is but more importantly think that like. he genuinely believe that. like that his entire character origin. his entire motive.

the fact that she killed him n he don’t blame her one bit.

the fact the villain character clumsily learning how to take care of a child

he truly see her n treat her like her daughter not a pawn not a subject. more times than not instead of have her on leash as his subject he is leashed by her

to be so utterly broken n love someone

to be so utterly broken n be loved unconditionally by someone

two character who betrayed by entire world by people who once closest to them

n him swearing that he will never ever fucking do that to her. that they may not have other people they may have entire world against them but they have each other

n him FOLLOWING THAT down to his last breath

him not following that would have make his life n make more than his life so much easier

BUT HE REFUSE TO

also he didn’t betray her by lying to her that her sister is dead he genuinely believed her sister dead. leading to the funniest frame n line ever

“FROM THE DEAD???????”

#arcane #silco arcane #jinx arcane #silco #jinx #media talk #🍞.txt

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amyriadofleaves · 10 months ago

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outside it starts to pour — neuvillette | chapter five

synopsis: in the limelight of fontaine, the prying eyes of its people never truly tears their gaze off the iudex and you, the présidence du conseil d'état, which makes for baseless rumours to fester and echo throughout the theatrics of opera. you and neuvillette are challenged by the reputations the both of you are expected to uphold, and the weighty decision to navigate these intricacies rests upon the discerning judgement of fontaine's archon.

{prev} ; { nav } ; { next }

ao3 : wattpad ˚　.˚　

⌗ pairing : neuvillette x fem!reader ⌗ feat : neuvillette, reader, wriothesley, clorinde, sigewinne, mention of furina ⌗ warnings : brief mention of poison consumption ⌗ word count: 7.6k

Behind the valour celebrated in tales of renowned swordsmen lies the silent duel against doubt and fear, where pride meets vulnerability.

Soreness racks your entire body and everything in you screams to stay still. An oddly familiar feeling of recollection drowns out the pinching of the gash that stands at bay; a dam that’s lost function. The morning after a duel never welcomed you; instead it tore you apart, and sewn you back together with the thread that puts you back together.

Your body aches all over, and your whole being begs you to stay still. A strangely familiar sense of memory overpowers the squeezing of the gash that was there to keep it at bay, like a broken dam. The morning following a duel never welcomed you; rather, it seemingly always tore you apart and stitched you back together with the same thread.

Turning to your clean side, you are greeted with a dozing Clorinde, arms crossed, slightly slipping off her chair, and her head slumped to the side. The realisation of your stinging torso hits as chuckles escape from your lips, observing how her hat tips by millimetres with each passing second. The bedside clock ticks, and you lazily refrain from turning your head, concluding that you've woken a little too early.

Before you can contemplate cleaning yourself up, the subtle shift in your movement stuns the duelist awake.

Her hat slips off her head.

Her voice is dry and coarse when she yawns. “Why, aren’t you up early?”

“Or maybe you just woke up late.”

“Duty calls even when sleep does, chenapan. I estimate that I have slept for only…” she checks her watch. “two and a half hours. You—however— have been asleep for almost forty-eight.”

You slump onto your back, and are now facing the ceiling (you ignore how a drop of water drips onto the apple of your cheek the second you turn). “Sucks to suck. I really needed that, though. Whatever it is, I have work tomorrow. The cogs aren’t gonna oil themselves.”

The ache as you move goes unnoticed at your sudden adamance to leave, and Clorinde promptly holds an arm out. “Wait.”

Complying, your hand finds its way to the edge of the mattress and you sit. “What?”

“I had to deal with some business on the surface, so I decided to purchase a new blouse and new pants, a skirt, another blouse except it’s blue, and…” she reaches for a bag that leans on the leg of the chair, and briefly pulls out a piece of cloth you assume is the blue blouse she’s talking about. I’ve seen enough of blue, you think, the hospital gown you wear is not flattering for your figure. You appreciate the thought nonetheless, and accept the gift. “ I also purchased a new pair of boots for you.”

You slowly outstretch your arms, weary with indolence and fatigue. “Thank you…?”

“Think of it as an apology. “

“Oh? That’s certainly a first. The Champion Duelist apologises for injuries sustained from in a ring! It is quite alright, Clorinde.”

“I did say think of it as an apology. You could take it as a blessing — your muscles are practically bulging through the sleeves. ”

“I know right!’

She scoffs. “Now you’re just full of yourself."

Restraining a laugh, you raise two fingers in mock salute. “I’m a busy woman. Gotta take what I’ve got.”

‘I can see that. Now go get changed. You reek.”

“What an insensitive tone. You’re talking to a patient.”

She does not play victim to your antics. “Yeah, yeah, whatever makes you happy. Make it quick, we have to catch Sigewinne to discharge you before she’s off to work.”

You nod, swiftly pursuing the refreshing embrace of open air. Yet, a hiccup disrupts your stride as you think: must I meet the public eye once more? A silent prayer escapes, hoping Neuvillette remains oblivious to your absence. What merit would your presence bestow upon him, except added burden and responsibility? He, undoubtedly significant to you, occupies your thoughts and you do not waste a thought in thinking he deems your company delightful. You hope it stays that way.

“How does it look?” You do a little spin in your new outfit, painfully aware of how the fibres of the bandage that hug your abdomen clutch onto the inner fabric of the silk blouse that you find is a little tight around the underarm.

Clorinde looks up from her lap and her eyes round in surprise, and then into jest. “As painfully corporate as ever, madame.”

“You never fail to irritate me, don’t you?” You clutch the bag of clothes and hold it alongside the leather bag you had with you before the whole spectacle in the ring.

“Behold. Your hero’s here.” She points to a little figure skipping down the steps and she smiles at you, giving you a ‘you’re almost free!’ look.

Sigewinne skips to your side, silently lifting the fabric of your blouse and peeking through the bandage to examine the stitches. “A little swollen, but it is very much normal for an injury such as this. You are all set to be discharged!”

An infirmary admission in the Fortress of Meropide is unforeseen, yet its homely, cramped nature piques your fascination.

Wriothesley loiters around the exit and waves when he recognises a familiar raven haired girl beside you. When his eyes drop to your abdomen, a light smirk graces his lips. “Seems like Aurora has woken up from her century-old slumber. “

Clorinde shoots him a glare. A soundless argument plays from their eyes alone, and you are standing as stiff as a rod, grateful that you do not have to know whatever they are going on about. Falling victim to their brief glances you feel yourself shrink. A brief, whispered ‘what?’ elicits from the duelist’s lips and your head snaps to hers. From the slump of Wriothesley's shoulders, you assume the debate has reached its impasse.

“If you’re all going to argue about me, at least let me in on it.”

Wriothesley’s head cocks and he grins. “Hey, it’s nothing personal. Pains me to see you go, don’t get me wrong — but I’m afraid you’ve outstayed your welcome.”

"Oh, what a heartfelt farewell. I'll try not to let the door hit me on the way out," you quip, grabbing Clorinde by the forearm and waving the Duke goodbye.

“Wait.”

Clorinde is pulled backwards as you pause in your tracks.

The duelist’s arm slips free of yours, and she crosses her arms, briefly raising her brows, almost prompting him. “Forgetting something?”

“I’m making a break for the surface. So would you two like to have brunch? My treat.”

Clorinde is puzzled. “It is not everyday your schedule is so free. Are you sure you have time—”

You give her a chiding look and you smack her shoulder lightly. “We’d be very delighted.”

___

Wriothesley gulps down a tremendous mouthful of his tea. “What a hidden gem this place is…” He looks at the menu, his fingers skimming through the words in quest of the cafe's name.

“It’s Café Lutece,” you say, voice muffled with your mouth full of escargots. What a delicacy—you nearly roll your eyes at how good it is, savouring every nuance of flavour that dances on your palate, and your shoulders sag in indulgence. You almost ask for a second, but you abstain from doing so when you realise that it is not you paying.

“Yes. Café Lutece. I knew that.”

“Totally.”

“Manners.” Clorinde berates, subtly directing your attention to the people around with a pointed look, then back to the two of you. Suffering at its worst is falling victim to constant scrutiny. You steal a glance at the duelist and find that she has returned to enjoying her lasagna.

Wriothesley doesn’t seem to take the hint from Clorinde’s reprimand, and continues as normal. “That arena stunt with your sword, commendable stuff. Why haven’t you picked up something like that? You're a natural in the ring, minus that whole... hole.” He waves around his fork like a novice who has nothing to lose but his dignity that he doesn’t seem to possess much of either; and his eyes, seemingly moving of its own accord, casually dip to where you would see the gash if it hadn’t been for the bandage and the new blouse that Clorinde had purchased in lieu of an apology.

“So, I’ve heard you’ve only been recently promoted as the Présidence du Conseil d'État. How is it?” His voice drips with bon mot, but you cannot help but feel your heart beat louder against your ribcage. To put it simply, you do not know. To be thrown from role to role like a ragdoll rendered your own limbs to pomme puree, a struggling puppet fighting against brass strings; but you, too, aren’t able to chart a path for yourself in pursuit of success.

Swallowing whatever’s left on your plate, you wipe your mouth on the cloth that sits on your lap and sigh. Your face scrunches in distaste “Fame isn’t really my cup of tea.”

“Oh? And what do you mean by that?” Wriothesley questions, turning around only to be met with women fanning themselves and batting their eyelashes at him. “I get it.”

You bring your voice down to a defeated whisper. “Maybe if it weren’t for me getting married in a month, I wouldn’t be recognised everywhere I go.”

The Duke’s brows lift. “Am I hearing that right?” When he notices that Clorinde has dropped the conversation to finish her meal, a crease forms between his eyes. He prods her gently on the shoulder.

This doesn’t appear to bother her, because her body remains fluid and returns to normal: erect and inclined forward for a more liable distance between her and her food. Her eyes don’t leave her plate when she replies with a curt: “Hm?”

“She just said she was getting married.”

“I heard her.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

She finally looks up from her plate and stares plainly at you. “Congratulations. The man is truly an unlucky one.” The Duke laughs uneasily as you both take in her lack of interest.

At the met silence, Wriothesley crosses his arms. “I don’t understand why a hot shot like you would settle so early for marriage.”

You do not know if you should lie. Does the guise play out even for those you know? Should you tell him that you’re madly in love with the Chief Justice? No, you shouldn’t; for it is not the truth. But you should! You have to! a voice screams, trailing off into the void. You struggle with internal conflict, split between the need to sustain the masquerade and the desire to have the truth spill. The bandage, snug against your abdomen, is like an oppressive corset, confining not just your exterior but also every part of your being that is tied to a blasted contract. Your fingers reflexively seek solace in the shredding threads above your blouse, as if unravelling the fabric could soothe the conflicting thoughts that have become entwined within your mind. The echo of a distant voice encouraging disclosure reverberates.

You force a cold smile. “I am not giving up anything for my marriage, Your Grace. It is merely a testimony of human connection. I am well off by myself, yes, but would it hurt to have someone to give you a little push? For someone down in the fortress, you should know what it’s like to feel lonely.”

The Duke’s expression seems to sour at the resurfacing of the use of honorifics and he waves a hand in denial. “I didn't mean to come off as rude, madame. I am just puzzled at who exactly would be deserving of you as a wife? I mean — it can’t be the vendor selling macarons down the street, right?”

“The man I am to marry is Monsieur Neuvillette. Now if you would get me a glass of Fonta, it would be greatly appreciated.”

Unbeknownst to them, Neuvillette sits nearby, sipping on a cup of water as he discreetly eavesdrops on words that subtly bleed through conversation. His keen gaze carefully observes you from a distance, and with a thoughtful demeanour, places the cup onto its respective plate. Noticing the look of distress on your face and the familiar slump in the Duke’s shoulders, Neuvillette remains hidden. Clorinde and Wriothesley, engrossed in their discussion, remain oblivious, their backs turned to the subtle observer in their midst.

The man I am to marry is Monsieur Neuvillette. The phrase reverberates through his skull, each word echoing with a disconcerting resonance that sends a shiver down his spine. He doesn’t fail to miss how the words weigh like a burdensome anchor — how your expression, once lit with vivacity, falls.

The outfit you are clad in is something the Chief Justice had never seen you wear before; but he swats the idea away. Perhaps it is a trick of the mind, having not seen you in two days.

He is mildly cognizant of the ring and its box that is settled comfortably in his breast pocket.

Tonight.

Lady Furina's relentless insistence propelled the schedule forward, transforming what was originally intended as a week-long endeavour into an instant obligation for Neuvillette. The Chief Justice was, and is still less than amused. This unexpected directive threw his meticulously organised schedule into disarray, compelling him to undertake the daunting mission of 'proposing' to the so-called 'woman of his dreams,' a phrase coined by none other than the Hydro Archon herself. The sudden upheaval left Neuvillette grappling with the unexpected change of events and contemplating how to proceed.

He shields his face in a book, as if it would aid him in any capacity. A shame, really —he stands out like a sore thumb, unable to blend in among the normalcy of Fontainians. Anything he does in his power to remain hidden only has him hounded by the most desperate of women clawing at him like hawks for any opportunity to ‘bask in his presence’ (quoted by Lady Furina; this was another one of her drabbles, showing how she is ever so apt in her knowledge of theatre).

The Iudex catches onto how you shift the topic to your peculiar love for Fonta, and he finds that his nose scrunches in distaste. Fonta was never something he could grow to enjoy; it was too fizzy on the tongue, and Neuvillette certainly wasn’t one for such a sensation. But maybe if someone as hard to please as you could find a little soft spot for a drink, he could too. It has been a considerable amount of time since he’d been given an opportunity like this to not only sit alone at a cafe, but also converse with the people under no pretence or intention of banishing the guilty down in the depths of the ocean.

Neuvillette slightly raises his hand, eyes still flickering from the words of the notes he had pasted in the book to taking in how you had taken a looser bearing when his attention was diverted elsewhere. He casts a quick glance about, and a waiter appears at his side almost immediately. The priorities of humans are awfully disordered, he thinks, recalling how this particular waiter turned away an old guy after trying to ask him the same question for the nth time: "How can I help you?" What a pity that this individual was damned with weak hearing.

The same voice and intonation sounds from his right. “How can I help you?”

“I’d like a cup of Fonta please.”

Gloved hands move slowly to the glass table when he catches the slight quirk of your smile — and for the first time, realises that it is a genuine one. Your eyes squint, and you tilt your head to the side after the cup of Fonta leaves your lips. Raking your hands through your hair, the wind blows through the nape of your neck and teases at the necklace around your neck and he thinks this is the first time he’s ever seen you so content.

Neuvillette’s initial instinct is to leave you be and have you enjoy yourself for just a little while longer before the clutches of responsibility grip you tight again; but when the notion of fooling Lady Furina slyly makes its way to the forefront, he chastises himself. This is a sole, pragmatic responsibility. So why is he blurring the lines? It is a contract he must fulfil: an obligation of duty.

He recites what he must say under his breath: “Kneel on one knee. Say that I lo —” his eyes practically bulge out of his head and he stops short. Must he really say that he — loves you? The strained voice of Lady Furina echoes, imploring him to express his love for her with all of his conviction. He debates over the idea of checking it off the list, but then realises that the list shows no sign of diminishing in its fervency of declaration, and his cheeks flush pink.

Another point on the note proves even worse than the last. “Surely I must not kiss her?” he whispers, placing down the notepad. A deep breath, drawn with the intent to rewire his thoughts, is sharp and cold. Regret manifests into beads of cold sweat as he wonders of his own oversight of his incapability of taking a look at the notepad before leaving the Palais Mermonia. A realisation, as crystal clear as the reflections in Fontaine's still waters, dawns upon him: she, a virtuoso of subtle acts of cunning, reigns supreme in such wit. Of all residents within these refined walls of Fontaine, the Iudex, in his wisdom, should have recognised her devious nature well.

It is no wonder that Lady Furina had bestowed this encased in one of her light novels. “Do some reading!” she had said, leaving him with three words and a cryptic message he could not decipher; another trick up her sleeve, and still, he is all too unsuspecting.

In the era where Fontaine was a coalition of people under a new system, a figure he not only suspected but knew to be Focalors had granted him a seat with the best view in the grandest theatre; and little did he anticipate that he would eventually become a pawn on the very stage he had always observed from above in his own, undeniably mythical glory.

He does not notice that the fresh cup of Fonta is now cold.

But he does notice that the table where a group of three once sat is now vacant.

He reaches into his breast pocket and leaves a bag of mora that, to any normal person, would easily realise that such an amount could account for ten cups of liquid gold. But he, unlike the normal person, sees that the matter that is telling you of tonight's plans weighs heavier than the coins that cling against the glass table like cymbals. After having sat up and blowing his not-so-stealthy cover, he takes a pitiful look at the Fonta that shoots him a pleading stare. He shuts his eyes, and prudently wraps his fingers around the teacup, and takes a sip.

He prevents himself with his whole being to not lurch forward. It is not so terrible, he says: a silver lined lie. A smile forces itself through and he turns to the workers that stand at attention; all eyes on the Iudex of Fontaine. The tap of his boots echo loudly against the brick floors and he leaves as swiftly as the clouds intertwine in the midday sun.

Neuvillette takes a spin, and sees the three of you standing under the shade of the Chioriya Boutique. His eyes cling onto the way you weigh all of your weight against a pillar, armed wrapped around your torso. Judging by how the three of you rack with laughter, he assumes it is Wriothesley who has quipped and prompted the champion duelist and the head of civil affairs into giggles.

What is he doing?

Certainly this is a breach of the contract. Each party isn’t obliged to the whereabouts of the opposite party, unless consented to. You are going to think he followed you here; and that is something he does not want. To be in your good graces is a difficult thing, yet to forever dwell in your disfavour is a pit from which not even the sharpest nails can rescue anyone.

The group breaks apart, and you are left alone, head swerved in the direction of the duke and the duelist. What a formidable group of people, indeed.

“What nice weather today, madame.” The low-tone of a familiar voice brushes against your ear, and oh, who could it be?

You do not spare him a glance, leaning against the pillar for support. “Go on, enlighten me already.”

Though you do not see it, he is left fumbling with a note and how to phrase his next words. “Let us go on a walk, if you’ll allow me.”

You rely on the weight of your right heel to bring yourself to face him. Surveying him from head-to-toe, you notice something in him has changed; perhaps it is the freshly tailored coat he spoke of the night you returned his other one, or maybe it is a novel hairpiece. Whatever it is, he is different, more fleeting in his aura.

Sighing, you look down at your boots. “If it is so necessary, then I see no reason to decline.”

“Alright then.”

The next movements are oddly rehearsed, yet terribly timed. He offers you his left arm, to which you decline. “Is it possible to switch sides?”

“Oh — uh, sure.”

Neuvillette offers you his right arm — but realise to your dismay that it hovers a little too high for your liking, and you resort to slightly beckoning him to lower it with your own arm, which is now oddly interlocked with his. You take in a deep breath and feel his heartbeat quickening along with yours.

One foot in front of another, the two of you find a middle ground at what pace to walk. Three people on the sidewalk eye the two of you with judgmental eyes and you slightly tiptoe to whisper a few words into his ear: “People are watching.”

He then replies in a tone that isn’t too loud but enough for the surrounding people to hear. “Why is why, Mon Amour, an act is what is to satisfy the Hydro Archon.”

Tearing your eyes away from him, you ignore the confusion of emotion that stirs in your stomach, and you tell yourself it is your injury. Words seep through your slightly gritted teeth. “Don’t you think that’s a little excessive, Dear Chief Justice of Fontaine?”

Through your periphery, you see a smile. “Certainly bold words from the one who deemed it fit to bestow a kiss upon my ear on the very first day of our relationship, don’t you think?”

There is no time for you to take his words in because a person on a cart approaches at full speed, its wheels detaching one by one onto the road. The man whose arms are intertwined with yours forces you to the side of a cement wall, and his chest, an unwitting barricade between you and the unfolding drama, prompts you a very unpleasant view of the ruffles of his blouse. As the chaos settles, you force your gaze up and find that his eyes stay trained on the man that is now clutching his arm that lays limp in his own grip.

While bystanders attend to the injured man, your gaze lingers on Neuvillette's face, seeking revelations in the subtle nuances of the seemingly faint expression that paints his face. Your own stare is met with an intense, narrowing gaze when the Iudex turns and faces you, and you immediately feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath against the erratic beats of your heart. Embarrassing.

Clearing your throat, you push him and he stumbles slightly — but he doesn’t move as far as you wish him to. Through all that cloth, his muscles surely are toned! “What are you doing? Help him.”

Perhaps it is a trick of the light or the painfully scorching autumn sun, but his cheeks are flushed. “Not a worry, madame, stay right here.”

In the lack of his warmth you take in the sharpest breath and it cuts through your lungs like glass.

You place your hands on your knees and bend forward to catch your breath. A sting stretches like a miasma from your hip and you instinctively clutch at it like a vice; fuck, you’ve strained it.

Feeling even more eyes on you, you return as normal, plastering a faint smile and wishing everyone takes the hint to not raise any questions. Your left arm still remains pinching the perimeter of the gauze that now begins to feel like a tourniquet and you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment. Neuvillette is by your side almost instantly, taking in the slight perspiration that beads down your forehead; just a moment ago, your face was completely clear of such.

“Mon cherie, are you quite alright?” he questions, pausing a little. You whisper a: “tuck my hair behind my ears,” to him, and he shakily complies, his hands swiping across your skin like a ghost.

You place a hand to his chest. “Why, there is no need to be so concerned about me! I am no damsel in distress, dearest.”

He returns your stare with a nervous chuckle and extends his hand out this time, a less secure form of a physical display of affection, but still a statement nonetheless.

You do not wish to continue beating around the bush, but the grin that tugs at your lips remains. “Tell me what you wish to say.”

His stride slows, and you slightly pull him forward to fall into step again. “Well, to put it simply, I am to propose to you tonight.”

You do not know where to fuel your surprise so the smile on your face deepens. “Couldn’t you have told me earlier?” The grin compromises the expressions on your face, to which passersby aren’t able to discern that your lips are actually moving.

“You’ll have to question the Hydro Archon on this, I’m afraid. Though I am glad I did meet you here, to save both of us an inconvenience.”

“You take me for a fool, Chief Justice. Don’t think I didn’t see you dining where we were.”

You bask in the widened eyes of the man from beside you. There you had him; hook, line, and sinker. “That was merely a convenience — Lady Furina suggested I take a little stroll around Fontaine to prepare myself for tonight’s itinerary.”

You tilt your head in amusement. “Convincing enough. So… tonight; but where, exactly?”

“I was thinking of the very precinct of the Opera Epiclese, the very symbol of romance itself.”

Outright, you reject his suggestion. “I think it is an odd selection.”

“Why do you think so?” the grip he has on your hand loosens as he turns to look at you.

“People, especially Fontainians,” you start, “barely frequent Erinnyes, let alone at night.”

Perfect. Neuvillette had rehearsed the response to such a question at least ten times, and he’s convinced he has it down to a T. “Lady Furina has connections, dearest. All the main media outlets are stationed around the area as we speak. And, it is the premiere of the newest, most dramatic opera in all of Fontaine’s history — as quoted by Lady Furina, of course.”

“That woman is out of her mind.”

The Chief Justice thinks to not respond, and instead moves on.“But keep it in mind there is no intention of us attending the premiere; the whole scene must play out when everyone’s out of the Opera Epiclese. We shall rendezvous at the aquabus station at half past nine — when it is scheduled to conclude. Is that a convenient time for you?”

By this point, you are defeated. “Yep.” you deliberately pop the ‘p’, letting go of his hand to rid yourself of your lace gloves. “Hold these for me, would you?”

Neuvillette notices someone else using a camera peering through a bush, and he quickly spots the camera's lens glint. “Anything for you.”

ONE HOUR BEFORE THE PROPOSAL

Your bed is tousled and you don’t even know if you are to wear a dress to your own proposal. All sorts of skirts and tops lay haphazardly arranged on your comforter, the silhouette of a bundle of cloth peeking through the crevices of crumpled shirts. A possible outfit? Maybe. You pinch it with your thumb and index finger and hold it up as if it were a cat; no — this won’t do. You make another dash for your closet and begin throwing things over your shoulder until you finally reach the bottom of the lot.

A dress sits neatly folded, slightly dusty, but a dress nonetheless. Your mother’s dress. You sit on the wooden floors and peer down at the basket once more with morbid curiosity. Your mind is thrown into a debate of whether an occasion like this is appropriate to wear such an outfit. It is a quarter before nine and you’re sitting on the floor of your apartment, barefaced and practically naked. Muttering a silent apology to your mother, you take it gently and pat it to rid it of any specks of dust.

The dress is a pale turquoise, the ends of the skirt a tethered lace. But one thing stands. It is sleeveless. When exactly was the last time you wore a sleeveless dress? You slap yourself to stop asking questions. Why am I suddenly thinking? Cut it out!

Turning around, you shuffle to your bed. Picking up a corset, you inspect it briefly; is this necessary? No. You take a brief look at the clean replacement of gauze that winds tighter around your waist as a substitute, and shrug it away, tossing it to some corner of narnia and you wish it appears neatly placed on your bedside table when you return.

You find yourself in a comical struggle to slip into the snug velvet attire, hopping on the pads of your feet and contorting your arms into peculiar positions. Finally victorious, albeit with a hint of dishevelment, you stagger towards your vanity mirror. There, a box of makeup beckons, urging you to indulge in its array of colours. The temptation of a baby pink lipstick proves irresistible in the moment.

Brushing your face with foundation, you set it down with powder, and it puffs like a plume of smoke. No, not your hair! You hastily smooth it down, the fine dust reflecting in the moonlight. An eye pencil, an eyelash curler, and mascara line the outlines of your eyes, and you push your seat back to inspect anything that might appear peculiar.

You look bland.

Without looking down, you pat your table and reach for a random eyeshadow palette. An array of potted glittery blues and greens lay orderly arranged, and you do not know where to start. Maybe a light green to set the eyes? Whatever. You use the pad of your pinky to swipe the eyeshadow across your lid and you reach for a deeper, metallic blue that wipes closer to the waterline. You lean back again, examining the sheen. Don’t I look stunning! You can smell how the women are to reek of jealousy at your very appearance. Sure, its application is haphazard, but wasn’t that the in thing? Or perhaps you were to start a new trend, like how you did with your excruciatingly blue colour palette.

Regardless of the absurdity of it all, this is oddly entertaining. Damn the blasted contract; you want to look good.

Earrings next. A dilemma unfurls: pearl or diamond? Hoops or studs? Too many options, so little time. A bounty of options dance before you, and think of how they’d appear against your dress and makeup. You think the pearls complement the ones that are stitched along the hem of the bodice. Studs, on the other hand, while embodying a certain casual charm, seem a pinch too informal for the grandeur of the occasion.

You decide to go for pearly hoops, and almost jab your ear with it.

Something tips over in the act of putting in the earrings and your eyes shoot to your right. Vials. It had almost slipped your mind. How dangerous the act of leaving your own self for three days is; how could you forget? Mithridatism, it is called — the very process of ingesting poison to immunise oneself from its very risk. Ironic how protection it is to you, but death it was for your mother. You almost contemplate abandoning it and never turning back, but you’ve come so far; and an idiot you would be if you succumb to your cowardice.

Clicking the hoops closed, you take a vial. You pop it open and ignore the burn as it travels down your throat. Gods above, you never can ever get used to its bitter taste.

Grabbing a purse amongst five others, you slip into a pair of white heels, leaving your apartment in a hurry. Your heels click loudly against the pavement, and you rush towards the heart of the city, ignoring all the awed stares that you garner from the people.

“She is nigh unrecognisable!” a strained voice shouts, and the shutter of a camera follows suit. The rest of the trip is a blur and you find you cannot recall anything when your mind is cleared.

You rush to the elevator and jam the button with your fist. “Damnit.”

The doors open and you press the button for it to close, ignoring the dazed look of a couple that disappears as the doors shut in their faces. Muttering a quiet ‘sorry’, you lean against the wall of the elevator for support. You can do it. Just act.

A ding sounds and a friendly breeze greets you, the silhouette of the man you can recognise anywhere standing at ease, facing the waters.

“I’m here,” you say, voice reduced to a frail squeak; and you’re surprised that he even hears you. The metal of his boots scrape against the marble as he whirls around, the unreadable expression on his switching to a grin.

“Ah, madame,” he regards you with his head bowed, and seems to study your face for an uncomfortably long, few seconds. “Do not be so worried, the aquabus hasn’t arrived.”

You flat out decline the claim. “I am not worried, monsieur. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a seat.”

Before you can, he stops you with a bouquet of rainbow roses. “Here, I thought they’d complement greatly with your eyes.” What type of awkward, low-budget line delivery is this? Too short and too concise, Neuvillette notes, already hearing the nagging of Lady Furina in his ears.

“Oh, uhm. Thank you.” You almost rip the bouquet out of his hands with how clammy they are, and its added grip only adds to the flush of your cheeks — both to be blamed on your exertion and anxiety.

The swish of water sprinkles lightly against your arm, and you look up to be greeted by an aquabus with the cutest Melusine standing atop, hands on her hips. Not that you wanted to play favourites of course, every Melusine was adorable in ways they know best.

Offering his hand, you respond with your own, gloved hands against lace. Lifting your skirt, you struggle with the steps and you’re immediately brought back to two days ago, when the Duke and Champion Duelist were reduced to ushers, waging war against a staircase.

Neuvillette, ever the gentleman, snakes an arm around the small of your back to support you up onto the platform. What is this treatment? No one’s around, and no one’s certainly watching. It is just courtesy, you tell yourself, yes! Just courtesy.

The two of you sit shoulder to shoulder, and Aeval eyes you silently, smiling a little with her hands moving to clutch behind her back.

She begins her rehearsed monologue, but you’ve heard so much of it that you choose to drown it out with the howls of wind that cart through your hair. The chill, night air has the hair on your arms to stand upright, and any semblance of sweat disappears as quickly as a bead from your dress slips, tapping against the metal of the floor, and into the water.

Oops.

You bend forward to fix the velcro of your heel and sit upright, running your fingers through your hair.

“A ribbon on your dress is undone — allow me to tie it for you.”

What exactly was this man on about? There was no ribbon in your dress, nor anything that could accentuate your figure in any form.

“I don’t ever recall having a ribbon wound in my dress, monsieur — oh.” A long string of white rolls in the wind, and realise that he is, unfortunately, correct. You turn and see his brow raised, another part of the ribbon encased between his fingers.

“W—well… It was merely an oversight. I can do it myself, Monsieur Neuvillette, thank you very much.”

“But I insist. It would be a pity if such a momentous occasion be ruined because of an untied ribbon, would it not?”

No, an indignant fire ignites within, a visceral urge to unleash the words that dance on the tip of your tongue. You want to scream at him; tell him that he is a dolt at thinking that you would allow him to so intimately bind the knot at your waist. To say yes is to succumb, and would you reveal such a lack of decorum to the one person you do not want to have seen you so vulnerable.

“Fine,” is a word that is foreign on your lips, and you do not know why you have just contradicted every argument within you for an act. A furrow forms between your brows, and you bite your lip to restrain words you do not wish to say spill from your mouth.

You turn to your right, bringing your hair to one side of your shoulders to give him a better view of the knot he is to tie. Fingers brush against your spine, and you cannot help a stunt in your breathing as he continues, working his way down. A discomfort blooms within your gut like a blaze when he tightens at your hip, and you jolt. The bandage was clinched enough as is.

His warm breath teases your shoulder, an alien heat against the cold of the oceanic wind. “Is there anything wrong?”

“Could — could you just loosen it a little?”

“Alright.”

Slumping at the newly given space between you and the cloth, you turn around, placing the flowers on your lap.

Neuvillette gives you a side glance, and looks away. You do not know if he compensates for another. “You look gorgeous tonight, madame.”

“Save the compliments for when the people are around, Monsieur Neuvillette. Wouldn’t you hate it if poor Aeval were to get the wrong impression?” You eye him watchfully, relishing in how his face seems to tense like being pulled at the strings.

The ride to the Opera Epiclese falls silent after your comment.

Bright lights line the pathway to the Opera Epiclese, and you do not know how your eyes gleam in the reflection of the yellow that shines against your dress. Huh. Lady Furina’s judgement has failed once again; there aren’t many people loitering around the Fountain of Lucine, except that of a few people who are sitting with glasses of what seems to be champagne in their hands.

The man by your side bends down and you look over to see another Melusine, with her hands cupped over his ear, whispering something you cannot discern. This garners a nod from the Iudex, and he returns to his full height and gives you a wry smile.

He bears the weight of your hand in his, and places a chaste kiss on your knuckles. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

Flowers drop loosely in your grip and your other arm is locked with Neuvillette’s, leaving little room for comfort; but you swallow it down if it means that Fontaine is spared and no one’s lives are taken. You mutter a prayer that Lady Furina is using everything in her power to revert what is lost; because prophecy be damned if the one sole figure meant to salvage it all crumbles.

Sacrifice lingers in your hands.

Almost as if conjured, a flower cut at its stem sits in between the Iudex’s fingers and you return his stare with an expectant one. “May I?” is the question that leaves his lips, and when you oblige, he places the flower snug against your ear.

You wonder what you look like right now. If only you could make a run for it, steal a glance at yourself through the reflection of the Fountain of Lucine and fix your hair.

An awkward weight lingers in the air when the idea of what is to come burdens everything you lay your eyes upon. Splatters of water cool your jitters and you spot a dog laying its head down on the elevated pavement; it barks at you and you suddenly lose all respect for that bundle of fur. “What disrespect!” you exclaim, and this earns a laugh from the Chief Justice.

“It is harmless, dearest.”

“I know, you fool. It’s its bark that scrapes my ears like a blasted rake — can you imagine hearing that all because you simply exist?”

This did not take much imagination for him. Four centuries and critique after critique presents themselves as a well-versed routine, the familiar tune of disapproving echoing — not as strangers — but an old friend.

“I feel for your distress, and I suggest you take a vacation, if it helps to clear your head.”

You flash him a tired grin. “If my work wasn’t so merciless, I would consider it in a heartbeat. But alas, we all want what we can’t have. Take everyone in this country, for example ─ they’re oh-so passionate in pursuit of grandeur, but have nothing to show for themselves.”

Neuvillette brings his lips to your ear so you can hear him better. “An astute observation indeed — it seems to you that you see their own strength as hubris. Which is why, mon coeur, Lady Furina has twisted the strings of the people; but, tell me, do you reckon they are to react as Lady Furina intends?”

“I think people react in ways they wish; there is no specific formula for the ways of humans, as sad as that may be.” your implication at knowing of Neuvillette’s inability to conform to the habits of people shoots through him like a lance, but he isn’t able to discern whether you had meant for your choice of wording to hit home.

A rumble has you lurching forward, but Neuvillette catches you by the arm. “Do you feel that?”

“It must be another leakage of the waters, but I do not sense that anything has taken effect.”

Applause and whistles seep through the doors of the Opera Epiclese, and both of your heads whip to the entrance.

“The rest of them are coming. Put on your best show— show them your unwavering facade.”

You look at him, and for the first time since your mother laid limp on the marble floors of your home, you feel pure, unadulterated fear. “What if they find out, murder me, and drag me senseless into the dirt? Would I be known as a heroine, or reduced to a measly coward?”

Neuvillette wraps both his hands around the base of your forearms. “Regardless of the outcome, I shall bear the burden. This concerns both of us, and I am resolved to ensure that nothing unforeseen shall jeopardise you.”

Nodding, you level your gaze with his, and steel your feet against the ground, almost as if you would tip over had you left yourself weak and vulnerable.

“Do not take my next words into consideration, it is merely fabrication.” He glances to his right, and the first group of people come pouring out, chattering in loud bursts of laughter and debate. Reaching into his breast pocket, his hand comes away with a velvet box and he finally begins the first line of his script.

You do not process his words, because your vision becomes blurry and the familiar taste of poison almost rises up like bile in the back of your throat and you want to faint. The flash of cameras blind your sight and you see the hushed, curious murmurs of everyone that begins to crowd around the two of you like vultures to fresh prey.

“You are my confidant, my love. I wish for us to remain like we are, hopeless and entwined,” he kneels on one knee and holds the box between his hands, and opens it, a sapphire glistening amidst the blue moon.” So, mon coeur, will you take me as your husband?”

You summon a smile, albeit with effort, and laugh. “Yes!” The crowd erupts into another wave of shouts as he stands, holding your hand as he pushes the ring onto your finger, smiling. Gloved hands snake around your waist as leans in for a kiss, but instead, he is met with his lips against the apple of your cheek.

He does not realise his delay in reacting until the fountain erupts in a fluorescent flurry of purples and pinks.

a/n: guys. their relationship is DEVELOPING DONT WE LOVE SOME DEVELOPMENT I KNOW YOU DO

taglist : @sek0ya, @souxiesun

#neuvillette fanfic #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette genshin #genshin impact #enemies to lovers #marriage of convenience #arranged marriage

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seancekitsch · 2 years ago

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could I please request a hughie campbell smut? with the reader being morally gray (kind of like billy) but hughie being kind of her soft spot + some smut with bottom!hughie + some of the boys teasing reader for having a soft spot for hughie

okay its not explicitly smut but its def heavily talking about the smut happening idk i think it works but i did not follow the prompt well i am sorry for that

It’s not that Hughie tries to eavesdrop, really, it’s not. But none of his friends are exactly subtle unless their lives depend on it, and even then that’s not always a guarantee.

It starts when he hears Annie drag you aside when they’re all drinking at the flatiron building. It’s only two months after she moved out all of her stuff from their shared apartment to her dream one. The one on her vision board from her teen years.

“Look, this isn’t because I’m his ex,” she starts, and you nod before sipping your beer, understandingly, “But Hughie?”

You smile at the mere mention of his name.

“I mean, I thought him and Butcher would get together before you and him.”

It’s then that you splutter against the rim of your bottle.

“He’s not- We’re not- not yet I mean but-“ you can’t find the words. Hughie finds it adorable how flustered you can get, it’s just rare someone other than him can make you this way.

“It’s okay,” Annie tries to soothe you, “I give my blessing. You know I love you both.”

Hughie figures this whole exchange makes sense. Annie loved him with her whole being for two whole years, she knows him better than most people, the only other person being Robin. She knows what he looks like when he’s falling for someone; he’s just happy she’s still looking out for him. Another act of love.

Hughie closes his eyes in the elevator.

“Fuck yeah, babe,” you whine, thighs straining as you push yourself up and down on his cock, your hand wrapping around his throat.

“Please,” you beg, but for no one. Hughie has given you full control in this situation. He wants you to take what you want from him and he gives it all so willingly.

The ding of the elevator snaps him from his memory.

All of you are already arguing in what is the makeshift meeting room, with you and Frenchie arguing both verbally and signing to keep Kimoko up to date when your mouths move faster than she cares to read. From what he can see, you and MM are covered in blood and mad as fuck about it, with Butcher and Maeve charactersitically nonchalant about it, but Annie, Frenchie and Kimoko being upset for you.

“C’mon you can’t be mad at me for my methods, Bill,” you exclaim, “You’re the one that taught me!”

It’s clear immediately that you and MM are mad for different reasons.

“I’m not mad at that, its just, do you have to make such a fuckin show of yourself?” Billy relents.

“Show? Show?! You’re kidding, right?”

MM stops his raving to listen to you.

“You’re the one that sent me and M in there and told me to act like a supe. You practically begged me to make a show. You wanted me to do that.”

“You fuckin told her to do that?” MM shouts, and the fighting begins again.

Hughie clears his throat and tries to break the insane tension.

“Lets agree to give everyone the intel next time?” he offers, knowing it lets you off the hook and gets everyone to stop screaming.

You immediately move a bit closer to him, whispering a thanks before you slink off to clean your face.

Kimiko approaches Hughie almost immediately after.

‘Some blood on you too’ she signs, and at his confused look, she presses her thumb to his neck and rubs it slightly. When nothing comes off on her fingers, her eyes widen slightly.

“What?” Hughie asks, but Kimiko only smiles as her eyes widen further and she runs off towards Frenchie.

It wouldn’t be until he got himself into the bathroom later that he would realize there was a monster sized hickie on his neck.

The rest of them realized when Maeve finally said something. You had walked in like normal, fifteen minutes and thirty agonizing seconds after Hughie just like normal. Your black eye hidden by big sunglasses anyone else would assume was for a hangover and a tray of Starbucks in your hand as you strut comfortably into the building you used as headquarters. Your ride up the elevator was uneventful, thoughts of the bruises on your inner thighs caused by Hughie and not at all by anything nefarious. You shifted carefully on legs still sore from riding him all night as the elevator opened again.

“And Hughie’s owner finally arrives!” Maeve shouts, the heat draining from your face. You step out of the elevator before it brings you back down again to see Hughie pale as if the pigmentation of his skin left him completely.

“What?” Maeve asks, fake shock on her features, “Like we didn’t all know?”

Annie and Kimiko share a look, they know, of course they did. Butcher is the first to react.

“You two?”

“Really?” Frenchie asks, but its all in jest because its clear Kimiko filled him in.

“Never thought you’d go for crazy," MM remarks, but then shrugs as if he's had his own thoughts on this all along. Hughie take you in like its the first time seeing you again, removing your sunglasses to reveal swollen and punched eyes and wounds definitely inflected on you by someone else that a Forensic Files episode would tell you were made in defense of their life and he can't think of anything more beautiful despite how fucked up it might be.

"I've got your coffee," you announce, not at all reacting to anyone else in the room, your eyes trained only on Hughie.

#hughie campbell x reader

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skeelly · 1 year ago

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Aurelia

I heard their footsteps before I saw them. Joining me on the edge of the building. I turned and looked at my visitors. Linette and Blaire. Smiling at me, their hair blowing in the wind. Opposites, Linette’s black, and Blaire’s Blonde.

“You ready?” Linette’s smooth confident voice carried across the wind taking my nerves with it.

“Never been more ready.” My reply was dry as I grinned at them, “Let’s go meet our new recruit.” Blaire motioned to down below, the where the rest of my crew waited.

My court.

The Silent Court.

It’s time for the world to know its name.

I leapt off the edge grabbing on to a nearby pole to steady my landing. Blaire and Linette close behind. I dropped onto the ground and looked up at the rest of the group. “Right,” I say, my voice hard “Who’s ready to meet Avena?” The girls collectively cheer then groan as I run over the plan one more time. “Any questions?” I ask even though there shouldn’t be. We’ve been over this at least a hundred times. “Just one.” Blaire’s hand raised “How many more times are we going to go over this plan?” she smirks and dodges my hand when I go to slap her.

“Pvet” I say, putting my hand on her shoulder, “Dstal” they all reply.

Pvet Dstal – together always.

We spilt up and each made our way to the meeting point. The tall brick buildings reaching up towards the sky, casting shadows, perfect for hiding. Blaire was tailing me above. She was my shadow for today, everyone else needed to stay hidden for this to work. Our recruit was in for a surprise. If this went well.

I arrived at the meeting point early and waited for the recruit to show up if she showed up. Most people who balk at me and then run never daring to talk to me, let alone be recruited by me. It was crucial that I wore the mask of a cold detached figure. I was most known for it, rarely showing emotion, especially to our marks. Recruiting doesn’t usually happen. The Silent Court hasn’t recruited for a year since our latest, Naomi Keller, The Dunce. And now we’ll have Avena, The Newbie, until she chooses her own alias. Most of us were reluctant to let her join at first, including myself, but she was persistent and proved herself valuable with a blade. She had been meeting with Beatrice for the past week to see if she was reliable. Now it’s my turn.

A sharp whistle pierced through the air. Blaire. She was here. Time to meet this Avena. I send a whistle back through my teeth to signal to the crew it’s time, and to move into position. I push off the wall I was leaning against and walk round the corner. She was there her blonde hair flowing free in the wind. She turned and waved when she saw me walking towards her. I glance up once to the roof, the briefest of glances, to let Blaire I’ll be fine. She nods and moves into her next position on the balcony nearby.

“Hello.” Avena’s crisp voice greeted me as I came to a stop a few feet away.

“Hello Avena.” My voice travels, carrying to the others nearby listening and watching. “You’re the Silent Queen?” She says as I motion to tell her to try to keep her voice down. “Are you?” she asks again, her voice creeping up I nod once.

“Really? Wow, gosh, I can’t believe that I’m really meeting the Silent Queen!” Her voice started to get louder; she was almost yelling. I take three steps and slap my hand over her mouth, my voice deadly quiet. “Shut up.” I hiss, “Not everyone in this goddamn neighbourhood needs to know that!”

“Are you going to be quiet?” I ask. She nods and whispers into my ear. “Sorry.” I look back at her and motion for her to follow me. We walk down the alleyway in silence. She kept glancing around to make sure no one was following. “The first rule of the Silent Court,” I say yanking her forward to stop her from looking down an alley that Linette was stationed in, “is don’t look around like that, make subtle looks, don’t glance around like that, people will think you’re up to something. Which by the way ten times out of ten you are!” Her eyes widened at my words. “Really? You go around killing people that often?” I felt a headache coming on, how did this girl catch Beatrice’s attention? “No. And we don’t go around just killing people, we’re not that dark.” “Well according to the rumours—” “Never listen to rumours. You may as well listen to someone with Madman’s.” Avena stopped talking.

We reached the end of the alley and turned onto a busier street. We continued making our way down towards the market when I saw it. I turn on Avena, pull her close and whisper in her ear. “Don’t look but we’re being followed.” “By who?” “They Royal Guard.” Avena sucked in a breath and stopped walking. “What are you doing?” I growl taking a step toward her, “Don’t stop! That tells them that you’ve seen them!” Avena looks me and smirks. Then she takes a step back.

I feel a hand slap over my mouth, another curls around my body, I twist and turn kneeing the guard in the crotch. He releases his grip on me and a twist unsheathing my sword. Several guards have moved from their hiding spots. The street cleared as the start circling me. A twisted smile appears on my face. “Let’s play pretty boys.” I lunged; the nearest guards fall in a matter of seconds, my sword piercing through their skin. But it didn’t matter, however many I killed, double that would appear out of hiding. It was no use; I wasn’t getting out of this. But I would go with a fight more fell in my wake, I was locked in a parry with a guard when I felt hands wrap around my torso again, one wrenched the sword out of my grip. By the time they’ve managed to hold me back there are four guards holding me back when I turn to Avena.

“How could you?” I spit. Her smile turns lethal. “Please, you really think you’re untouchable? All I had to do was play the starstruck fan.” She took a step forward, “And you, you walked right into my trap.” She laughed, “I can’t believe the most feared woman in all of Edgefall City fell for a simple trick like this!” “You’ll regret this,” My voice is deadly calm “I’ll kill you.” “Please. You’re not even going to make it another week before they kill you.” They, being the royal family of Ziivera. “You never know Avena, it takes four guards to hold me back. I wonder how fast I can break out of cell?” Her face flickered for a moment, just one, but it was there – fear. I smile at her reaction using it to my advantage. “Scared, are you?” My question catches her off guard and instead of replying she just turns on her heel and waves to the guards. “Put her in the carriage. The King is waiting for her.” That’s news. The king?

The guards holding me drag me back to their waiting carriage. I struggle and try to break free, only earning a punch in the face from a guard. My eyes water as they shove me into the carriage. Through the haze my eyes make their way to the alley way we walked out of. Someone’s standing there. Linette. She looks at me, worry spread across her face. I nod and she winks at me signalling to the other girls to move out. Let these guards think that I’ve been caught. Let them think that I didn’t know about Avena. Let Avena think she played me. Soon they’ll know that no one ever plays me and I, have just secured a way into their precious castle. They’ll know soon enough that once again I can’t be caught. Aurelia Birnett can’t be caught

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

welp theres the first chapter lol

lemme know what you think!!

OKAY I FINALLY FINISHED READING IT OKAY OKAY

FIRST OF ALL, I LOVE IT. OMFG. ITS PERFECT 😭😭

I LOVE THE PVET DSTAL THING OMGGGGGGG

I NEED MORE

PLEASE TELL IF YOUVE FINISHED MORE

ITS A NEED NOT A WANT

I AM HOOKED

btw i didn't read anything that was wrong or maybe cause im crazy and need more sleep 🤪🤪

#askaroo #YOURE SO GOOD EM #if i can call you that?

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lost-in-reveriie · 1 year ago

Note

One

Aurelia

“You ready?” Linette’s smooth confident voice carried across the wind taking my nerves with it.

“Never been more ready.” My reply was dry as I grinned at them, “Let’s go meet our new recruit.” Blaire motioned to down below, the where the rest of my crew waited.

My court.

The Silent Court.

It’s time for the world to know its name.

“Pvet” I say, putting my hand on her shoulder, “Dstal” they all reply.

Pvet Dstal – together always.

“Hello.” Avena’s crisp voice greeted me as I came to a stop a few feet away.

Let these guards think that I’ve been caught. Let them think that I didn’t know about Avena. Let Avena think she played me. Soon they’ll know that no one ever plays me and I, have just secured a way into their precious castle. They’ll know soon enough that once again I can’t be caught. Aurelia Birnett can’t be caught.

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

There was the first chapter!! hope you like it!

Let me know if you find any mistakes <33

OMG THIS IS SO AMAZING!!! YOURE SUCH A TALENTED WRITER!!! this was so fun to read and your world building is so amazing!! i can already tell that this is such a creative setting and i love it sm!! and Aurelia is such a girlboss istg <33

oh, and does your book have a name yet?

#asks

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mrsparkjimin18 · 23 days ago

Text

part 1: falling into you

Sundays were your day for quiet routines and small pleasures, so every week, without fail, you’d head to the bookstore to add yet another title to your growing collection of unread books. It didn’t matter that you already owned more books than you could read – there was a comforting thrill in discovering what new stories the shelves held, just waiting for the right moment to be opened.

As you wandered from aisle to aisle, letting your fingers graze the spines, something unusual caught your attention. The first thing you noticed, in the corner of the next aisle, was a guy standing there, with an expression mixed between thoughtful and sad – and given your track record, avoidance was your first instinct. On the other hand, he was undeniably cute, but before you could look away, he made eye contact. There was something captivating about his gaze, holding you from across the aisle, leaving you momentarily spellbound as he approached.

He smiled and said, "Need help looking for something?"

You blushed, "I think I just found it."

A bashful grin spread across his face, flushing his cheeks with a rosy hue. His hand instinctively rose to rub at the back of his neck, a sure sign of his nervousness.

"Oh goodness! Did you think I meant you?" A touch of amusement colored your voice as you noticed his brief confusion. "No, no," you clarified with a smile, gesturing toward the object behind him. "You're standing right in front of what I was looking for."

As you reached over his shoulder, you couldn’t help but notice the flawless smoothness of his skin. The scent of his cologne – a subtle blend of woodsy notes mixed with a hint of citrus – wafted toward you, captivating and mildly intoxicating. You felt yourself losing your balance as you were enveloped in its embrace and momentarily lost in its pull. He tried to steady you, but both of you ended up losing your footing, landing together with a soft thud, his chest pressing against yours. He met your gaze and said, "I'm Jimin, by the way."

You laughed, “It’s a pleasure meeting you this way, Jimin…my close friends call me ‘Love’ and this is about as close as friends can get.” As the realization dawned on him, he quickly scrambled off of you and extended a hand to help you up. The next words to come out of your mouth surprised you.

"So, should we grab some coffee across the street? Most people offer a drink before heading straight to second base."

His grin stretched so wide that it seemed to swallow his eyes, and he lowered his head in embarrassment. "You don’t have to get shy now…we’re literally halfway to meeting each other's parents.” Unable to hold your amusement inside, you let out a deep, throaty laugh.

Your carefree aura must’ve made him feel comfortable, as Jimin agreed to head across the street for coffee. Inside the cozy cafe, conversation flowed easily as you sipped your drinks, sharing stories and laughter.

At one point, he looked genuinely baffled as he asked. “Wait?! How have you never seen The Notebook?” he asked, eyes wide with bewilderment.

You shrugged, feigning indifference. “It’s just one of those movies everyone talks about, so I figured I already knew the story…Boy meets girl, they fall in love, there’s drama and a bunch of rain-soaked kisses…I think I get the gist.”

He shook his head, grinning. “You’re missing the whole experience. The rain-soaked kiss is practically a rite of passage!”

You leaned in, raising an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’ve done the whole ‘kiss in the rain’ thing?”

“Maybe,” he said, attempting to look mysterious. “But, for you, it’ll remain a secret until our second or third coffee date.”

“Confident, are we?” you teased.

Hours passed as you traded more stories, discovering that you both lived near Central Park, although he lived on the opposite end. He insisted on walking you home, since your house was closer, to which you agreed and continued to share laughs as you strolled under the streetlights.

Upon reaching your front door, he hesitated and glanced down shyly before meeting your gaze. “Is this going to be considered our first date?” He paused, his cheeks slightly pink. “Because if it is, I’d like to-”

Without missing a beat, you reached up, grabbed Jimin’s face, and pulled him in for a kiss, catching him by surprise as he melted into it, kissing you back just as passionately. The intensity between you was undeniable, the type of spark you could feel in your fingertips. But before it could get any deeper, he gently pulled away, breathless but composed.

"I'm not that type of guy,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “We should take things slow, whatever things may be. When it happens, whatever it is that may happen, I want it to be perfect.”

He pulled you into a warm embrace, his lips brushing against your cheek before he let go. “Get some rest,” he said softly, his gaze lingered momentarily. Then, with a smile and a wave, he walked away, disappearing down the street.

As you stepped inside, you felt a giddy excitement with a hint of confusion at how the night had ended. You kicked off your shoes and wandered to the bathroom, letting the warm shower wash away the lingering tension of the evening. Afterward, you wrapped yourself in a soft terry towel and poured a generous glass of red wine, hoping it would help you unwind a bit.

Settled onto the couch, you picked up a book that had been gathering dust on your coffee table. The familiar scent of the pages was comforting, and you tried to lose yourself in the story. But the words blurred together as your mind drifted back to Jimin – the way he’d smiled, the softness of his kiss, and that playful banter over coffee.

You flipped a page, your thoughts wandering to how easy it had felt to talk to him, when suddenly it struck you like a bolt of lightning – you hadn’t exchanged numbers! Your heart dropped as the realization sank in. In the rush of that perfect moment, you’d forgotten the simplest detail that could have connected you again.

Setting the book aside, you sighed, the thrill of the evening now tinged with frustration. What if he thought you weren’t interested? The thought of hoping and waiting for another chance made you restless. You picked up your phone, almost willing it to ring, but there was only silence.

With a heavy sigh, you leaned back into the couch, swirling the wine in your glass as you replayed the night in your mind, hoping that somehow, fate would intervene.

#bts fanfction #bts #park jimin #jimin fluff #jimin #soulmates #good conversation #bangtanwhq

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avinwrites · 2 years ago

Text

Dark Nights and Warm Mornings

You were restless. Even after a long day of training and completing commissions for the people of Tevyat, you still couldn’t sleep. So, you did what anyone with your power would do and went out to fight some monsters. It wasn’t hard to find a group of slimes harmlessly bouncing around the gates of Mondstadt, but it was hard to bring yourself to kill the squishy creatures. You wished you could find a small hillichurl camp or at least a worthwhile opponent that you were not killing just to pass time. Your weapon laid claim to the life of the last anemo slime in the pack, and you still weren’t tired. If anything, you were even more energized than before. You turned back to walk further away from Mondstat before a deep voice you thought you recognized stopped you in your tracks.

“It seems like you’re doing my job for me.” The voice you have grown to love grabs your attention as you turn around to face the man. Your face remains stoic as a playful response contradicts your serious appearance.

“Well, we can’t have the Darknight Hero out of commission, can we?” You take a step towards him. He stands tall, scowling.

“I told you not to call me that.” Diluc takes a breath and releases it after a long pause. You almost think he’s sighing at you. “It’s dangerous to be out here so late at night.” You grin at him, a juxtaposition of his serious glare.

“Well then it’s a good thing you’re out here with me.” Your reply earned you a quirk of his eyebrow along with a subtle shift in the tension in the air. Instantly, you knew he wasn’t angry with you, but when was he ever? Your smile only grew as he allowed you to drag him to the area you were planning on scouting, both eager to take on a camp of hillichurls. Throughout the night, the two of you fought flawlessly, filing in the gaps the other left, working together like perfectly fit puzzle pieces. By the time you felt an ounce of fatigue, the brilliance of the morning sun began to peek over the horizon. Sweat dripped from your forehead, the cool breeze doing nothing to calm the heat raging through your body. You glanced at Diluc, and the heat was doubled. He was just as sweaty as you were. Plastered to his forehead, his normally voluminous hair was drenched with the proof of his hard work. You barely had time to tear your eyes away as his red ones drifted towards you. His ungloved hand rested on your shoulder as the two of you began to make your way back towards Mondstat. When the sun had fully risen, outshining the moon, you finally made it back to the city you currently called home. Despite his place of residence being quite out of the way from where you were exploring, Diluc insisted on walking you back. During the journey, you noticed that the hand that previously found itself on your shoulder now found its place in your hand. Before the guards that stood before the opening of the city could notice the two of you, Diluc pulled his hand out of yours, with a noticeable degree of hesitance, and placed the now free hand on your head, praising you for you good work, before taking off to establish his presence at his place of work. You wore a bright smile while walking into Mondstadt. Against your better judgement, you walked straight up to Katheryne, insistent on completing your daily commissions. Sluggishly, you fought your way through the tasks you needed to do, saving the one closest to the Dawn Winery for last. You figured that it couldn’t hurt to check up on Diluc after your late night adventures together. You even planned to bring him a bowl of soup, though once you realized his maids probably already did that, you decided against it. As you finished your last commission, you were second guessing your visit. After helping out on multiple occasions, your presence at the Dawn Winery was always a welcome one, but you could not help but feel like you were overstepping a boundary when it came to visiting Diluc. When you reached the winery, you ultimately decided that you would ask around to determine if anyone required your assistance, and if you happened to bump into Diluc, well, you wouldn’t be complaining. As you pushed open the door, you were immediately greeted by the head maid’s frantic calling.

“(Y/N)! It's a great thing you’re here!” She pulled you inside and began begging for your help. “The two new trainee’s have made a mess and are not capable of cleaning it up. If it isn’t too much of a bother, could you please see to it that the mess is taken care of?” Cleaning Diluc’s house was not what you had in mind for “assisting the workers of the winery,” but you weren’t going to complain, as you were the one who desired a job. You only hoped that you wouldn’t happen to run into Diluc. The maid gave you an apron and pointed out spots both on the carpet and the hardwood that you could easily get out with a little bit of elbow grease. It was only when you got on your hands and knees did you realize how tired you truly were, and how much fighting all night took a toll on you. Your soreness caught up to you when you finished the task. You almost didn’t register the voice directed at you.

“Thank you so much for your help- oh sweetheart, you got all dirty!” The maid exclaimed when she saw your disheveled figure. You chuckled sheepishly, hoping you don’t look as tired as you feel. She quickly continues, not giving you time to collect your reward and leave. “Here, let me run you a warm bath, I’ll give you proper thanks when you return.”

“Ah, that won’t be necessary,” You tried to protest, but she didn’t give you a chance as she ushered you upstairs.

“Master Diluc will not be home until later tonight, please use the master bath.” She shoved you in and shut the door before you had the chance to contradict her. You sighed and began to undress. As weird as it felt, you were going to take advantage of the generous offer. Muscles untensed and at ease, you washed yourself, taking great care to disinfect the scratches you received from your late night expedition. Invested in the comforting task, you began to hum to yourself, completely oblivious to the footsteps gradually becoming louder outside of the door.

“Wait- Master Diluc!” Was all the warning you had before the door suddenly slammed open. Both you and Diluc were stunned for a moment, unable to process the situation playing out before your eyes. After a long moment of staring, you came to your senses and covered yourself, though the bubbles of your bath did well enough. At the same time, Diluc exited the room with haste, ensuring the door closed with a loud bang. A beat passed. Then another. When you had sufficiently calmed down from the surprise you were going to speak up, but the man behind the door started first with the clearing of his throat, resulting in a deep rumble.

“Sorry.” He mumbled from the opposite side of the door. You quickly dried yourself off and donned your clothes, carefully folding the apron lent to you. You opened the door, your second mistake. As soon as the door handle turned, the pressure on the other side caused it to swing open. Diluc, who was previously leaning on the door, barely managed to catch himself before toppling on top of you. The distance between you was non-existent when you reached out your hand to attempt to catch him.

“I- I didn’t think you would be home so soon.” You started, your eyes everywhere but on him. Your statement did nothing to explain why you were even in his bathroom to begin with, you realize as you felt his direct gaze on you.The maid, having been a witness to the situation the whole time, finally decided to speak up.

“It’s my fault, Master Diluc.” She said as she bowed deeply despite his attention not being on her. Diluc turned to face her, prompting an extensive explanation. As she described the events that transcribed before his return, you let your eyes examine him. His blush was not un-noticeable. Your eyes drifted from his attentive face to his toned arms and down to his hands, that were still holding on to you. You realized the reason that you haven’t let go of him is that he hasn’t let go of you either. Soon after the maid was finished, he fixed his lax posture and removed himself from your arms. He cleared his throat again.

“Thank you for the explanation.” Without turning to face you, he directed his next statement to you. “(y/n), if you would, follow me.” He instructed, not awaiting a response as he latched on to your hand and dragged you from the bathroom. Your mind ran through all of the possibilities of what he could be doing. This could be the end of your friendship. He could kick you out right now and tell you he never wanted to see you again. He could hate you. He could do anything, but what he did do was not anything you expected. You stopped in front of the door to his room, and gently, he ushered you inside. Only after he sat you on the edge of his bed did you begin to verbally question his motives.

“Dliuc, wha-” You were unable to utter another word as he gave you a vague answer as to his intentions.

“Your hair is still wet.” He mumbled, settling himself behind you and bringing a brush to your hair. Oh. It felt good. You held back a satisfied sigh as he continued the comforting motion. “Hearing you call this place home, like you live here,” He spoke after an extended period of silence, only filled by the sound of a brush smoothing your hair, and the exchange of breaths between the two of you. He paused, as if waiting for a response from you.

“Go on.” You whispered under your breath, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“Hearing you call my home “your home” made me feel,” He took another pause. You waited with bated breath. “Happy,” He finished with a thoughtful sigh. You could hear the smile in his voice, bringing to light a smile of your own. You didn’t stop yourself from leaning back into him, and he didn’t stop himself from holding on to you. As your breathing slowed to match his rhythm, you could not keep your mind from dwelling on his statement. With him, you were home.

You were unaware of the time, and you weren’t even sure when you fell asleep, but you were acutely aware of how the arms you fell asleep in kept you still and warm throughout the night. You could not turn to face him; at some point in the night, Diluc had leaned you back and flipped his duvet over the two of you, keeping you back held securely to his chest with his arms around your waist. You could feel his warm breath keeping your uncovered neck from freezing. He shifted in his spot, and you began to mentally prepare yourself for the loss of comfort, but the redhead latched onto you never left. He only sighed in his sleep, a pyro-infused breath settling back on your exposed skin. Thanks to his convenient, slight change in position, Diluc’s grasp on you was loose enough for you to turn and face him. You were met face to face with the normally stoic man’s relaxed features. His lips upturned in an almost unnoticeable smile as one of the hands around your waist unconsciously moved to your upper back. You pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose, your hand hovering over his cheek too scared to wake him. You latched onto him as he was to you, a hand finding its way tangled in his hair, and the other pulling him close. It didn’t take long for you to fall back asleep, lulled to peace by the soft breaths and unintelligible mumbles from your sweetheart.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact diluc #genshin diluc #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc x reader #genshin diluc x reader

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provincial-girl · 2 years ago

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No, but, for how tightly she clings to rules, I just keep thinking about how bold Greta is to talk about taking Carson on a date in the middle of a crowded clubhouse. They’re behind a half wall, but Greta, honey, you’re still in a crowded room where people can see you, probably hear you too if they wander too close. This is a risk, and she seems to know that, keeps looking back over her shoulder as they talk. No one appears to be nearby at first, but one of the Peaches crosses behind her and goes to a locker literally right next to the wall maybe a second or two after Greta’s last check.

She’s no more than a few feet from Greta and Carson, nearly on the same side of the wall as Greta, so whoever it is (couldn’t quite figure it out, one of the background Peaches) for sure heard enough of that conversation to know what’s up. I think Greta recognizes this too, because on her way back into the locker room, she makes a point of meandering close enough to have some sort of interaction as she keeps walking back towards Jess and Jo. I like to think she does that to gauge how much the other Peach hears of the conversation by her reaction to Greta approaching her.

And now I want a fic from the POV of that random Peach picking up on all these clues, some more subtle than others, that Greta and Carson are together. I want her to walk into the kitchen as Carson touches Greta’s face to go in for a kiss, then pretend she believes Carson’s outlandish excuse that she was giving Greta makeup tips. Or have her sneaking out to the woods to unwind and have a smoke, only to find Carson and Greta fully making out against a tree. Greta and Carson don’t see her that time, and she manages to sneak away just before Greta looks around for the source of the sound. There are other, smaller things that give them away too, lingering looks and adoring smiles that are easy enough to spot if you know what to look for. By the time Random Peach overhears Greta and Carson’s conversation, she’s more surprised that they apparently haven’t been on date than she is by the fact that Greta’s asking Carson out.

Then Greta turns around and sees Random Peach there. Greta walks by super close and says ‘hi there’ as she gives Random Peach this meaningful look that seems to be asking what she heard. The player just nods and says “we’re good” and Greta’s face remains impassive as she keeps walking, barely breaking stride.

Random Peach keeps that secret, but that doesn’t stop her from continuing to see and overhear things she definitely shouldn’t. Like the time she walks back into the clubhouse to get the lucky sock she forgot on the bench, and instead walks in on Carson pinning Greta against a locker, and slowly backs out as she makes sure the stubborn lock actually clicks shut this time.

Things like this keep happening at an almost comical rate, and she’s not sure why she’s the one to constantly walk in on these situations, to overhear these things. Random Peach continues to keep these secrets though, intervening or redirecting attention where she can when Greta and Carson are being Exceptionally Bad at hiding their relationship, which is more common than not. She finds out later that there are no fewer than four other team members doing the exact same thing, but that’s a whole story all on its own.

Despite not being super interested in typical romances, Random Peach actually becomes emotionally invested in the ups and downs of Carson and Greta’s relationship, so she’s pleased beyond words when she looks out the window of her cab as it pulls away from the boarding house and sees Carson kissing Greta against the side of the building. Random Peach feels an inexplicable thrill of victory that the relationship she’s invested so much time and energy into protecting appears to be working out.

She’ll only realize next season that one of the reasons she’s so invested in a happy outcome is because she’s a little bit queer too. For now, though, Random Peach is just glad to see a happy ending for two members of a baseball team that has grown into something that feels a lot like family.

#aloto #a league of their own #greta gill #carson x greta #gretson #it's not a #fic #but also not *not* a fic #Did I write a headcanon/fic-ish thing from POV of a character whose face I can't clearly see in that one scene and whose name I don't know?#why yes #yes I did #this show has me in an absolute chokehold in the best possible way #meta #my stuff

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ladylooch · 1 year ago

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Letters in Your Last Name - Chapter 5

A/N: Love prevails in the end, babes. remember that in hard times 😘

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Swearing, angsty

The Wild season has ended with little fan fare. They missed the playoffs and have a short season but now a long off-season looms. For me, this is the worst possible news. Not only because the season is over and we get zero extra playing time. But mostly because Kevin is leaving to return to Sweden. In the last two weeks, as it’s become obvious that the Wild needed a miracle to extend their season, we’ve had a few conversations about what the off-season looks like. Most of the conversation is Kevin telling me what he is doing and where he is going, which I respect. We are still in this new phase of our relationship that feels a bit unsure on where we go from here. Will we be exclusive? Maybe this has run its course? I’m not sure. However, what I do know is that the anxiety has been eating me to pieces since the season officially closed this past weekend.

“You’re quiet this morning.” Kevin points out to me as we sit on the couch drinking coffee.

“Just thinking.” I say breaking my gaze from the Minneapolis skyline and looking over at him.

“About?” He wonders with raised eyebrows.

“Us.” I shrug innocently, looking away again. I know we have to talk about this at some point, but it feels heavy right now in the morning light.

“What about us?” He asks as he reaches out and pulls me into him. I fall into his chest and he snuggles me tightly into him.

“What happens when you go to Sweden.” I mumble, feeling shy.

“What do you mean? We’ve talked about that.” His voice is gentle as he drops a kiss to the top of my head.

“Well, kind of. We have talked about you going, but that’s kind of it.” I shrug.

“I mean.. do you want to go with me?” He asks me. The way he wonders is so nonchalant. As though I can pick my life up in three days and jump across the ocean with him, no questions asked. However, it does give me an indication of his overall thoughts on our relationship.

“Well.. no, I can’t.”

“Okay.. well I hope you will come visit me.” He questions. “You’d look good over there.” I smile in response.

“I don’t know. If I come visit, your Swedish girlfriend might get upset.” I am being not so subtle, but I don’t know how else to broach this subject. Is there someone there? Are we exclusive when he goes back? Or should I start drowning my sorrows in Ben & Jerry’s?

“Sam..” Kevin begins quietly, encouraging me to sit back up so I can see his face. I do so and turn hesitantly to look at him. His brown eyes are dancing with amusement. “There is no one else. It’s just you.”

“Okay.” I nod to him. “Well, I just wasn’t sure and thought maybe if you wanted to not be exclusive, you know, I would be fine with that. I know that’s kind of a lot to ask when there will be so many miles between us and you probably have needs that need to be met and ways you normally do that in Sweden and um… yeah. That’s cool with me.” I stop rambling with a shake of my head. I purse my lips and look away from him. It’s actually anything but cool, yet I’m so desperate to keep this connection with him that I’m blurting out words to appease him.

“Do you want to see other people?” He asks me with reserve.

“Well… no. That sounds like literally the worst.” He laughs in responds and nods his head in agreement.

“I’m not good at sharing. Missed that day in school.” He jokes, reaching for my neck and pulling my lips down to his. The kiss is soft but hot and our tongues dance together. I melt into him and I feel the tension of the unknown fading away. We are on the same page. “If you’re going to come visit me, we probably need to tell your brother about us.”

“No, he’s dumb he won’t figure it out.” I insist, reaching for his lips again, using him as a distraction from what I already know.

“Babe… You’ve never even left this country. He’s gonna know.” I pull away and pout at him.

“I’m not ready.”

“Yes, you are. And I am too.” He encourages me. “I don’t want to hide us anymore.”

“But it’s so nice this way. No one can ruin it but us.” I reach down to try and kiss him again and he grabs my face holding me a breath away.

“Sam.. I want to meet your family and your friends. I want to do couple things without being worried of Alex being around the corner. I want to greet you after the game with a hug and a kiss, not a weird hand acknowledgement from across the room.” The seriousness in his eyes flusters me. He’s looking at me like he’s falling for me.. just like I am for him.

“My family is pretty great.” I whisper to him. I look away and contemplate for another moment before nodding my head in agreement. “Okay, but if he kills you, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You’re worth it.” He mumbles before releasing my face and smashing our lips together.

Despite Kevin’s lips on mine, I can already hear the disappointment in my brother’s voice.

Samantha Stalock, what have you done?

_ _ _

I sit in silence as Kevin’s Audi pulls up to the Stalock house two days later. Both garage doors are open and I can clearly see Alex and Felicia’s cars. Well, Shit. Truthfully, I was banking that maybe they would be gone, so we didn’t have to do this today. It’s not that I’m ashamed of being with Kevin. It’s that I like the little bubble we are in right now where no one knows about us. The bubble of bliss is most certainly going to pop when we walk into that house.

“Ready?” Kevin asks as he shuts the car off. He turns towards me in his seat and I give him a face. He laughs. “Are you sure you’re not building this up to be worse than it is?”

“No!” I exclaim, smacking at him. “He is going to be pissed. Like you may need to run at some point.” I insist, waving my hands wildly as I talk.

“Good thing I brought my running shoes.” He grins. “Let’s go.” He opens the car door, but I stay in my seat. He pauses at the hood of the car and waves me out. With one final, reserved sigh, I push open the door and follow him up. I bite down on my lip and suck in as calming of a breath as I can before pushing the front door open.

The sounds of kids squealing reaches our ears. Sawyer, Serena and Alex are running around the kitchen, doing laps as Alex chases the two kids. He roars playfully at them, grabbing Serena and picking her up. He pretends to gnaw on her ribs before setting her back down.

“Daddy is hungry for ribs!” He bellows, watching as Sawyer runs faster away. Even with all the anxiousness I feel, I smile.

Alex glances up at the sound of the door clicking closed. The large smile on his face completely disappears when he sees Kevin and I together. I gulp and I wonder if Kevin heard it. I slowly step out of my shoes, then reach for Kevin’s hand so we can walk in together.

“Kids, go wash up for dinner.” Alex says in a serious tone. Both kids look inquisitively at their father before walking down the hall for dinner. Felicia, who senses the change in the air, peeks around the corner. Her mouth drops into an O when she sees us. She mouths a “what the fuck” at me before going to stand by Alex.

Cautiously, I walk forward with Kevin. Alex’s arms are folded tightly across his chest and I swear steam is coming out of the top of his head.

“Hi.” I say, giving my brother an awkward smile. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought someone to dinner.”

“My teammate?” Alex’s voice is deadly calm.

“Uh… well, my boyfriend.” I try not to sound sheepish, but I know it comes out that way. I clear my throat. “And I guess, also your teammate.” Kevin gives my hand a squeeze before releasing me. Bless his heart, he walks right up to Alex and reaches his hand out to give it a shake. Alex looks at it and glowers.

“I’m good.” He says to Kevin who shrugs in response. How is he so calm and collected about this!?

“Alex.” Felicia says in warning. “Kev, this is so great. Welcome.” She encourages him, walking over and giving him a squeeze.

“Thanks.” He grins at Felicia. “So what’s for dinner?” He jokes, trying to cut the tension.

“Sam.” My name comes out like a hiss from Alex’s mouth. “We need to talk.”

“Okay.” I shrug as if I’m fine with that when I’d rather do anything else.

“Somewhere private.”

“No, whatever you have to say, you can say here.” I insist. “I’m not going to go into a different room so you can treat me like a misbehaving child.”

“I wouldn’t treat you like one if you didn’t act like one. Sometimes, I swear to God, you are fucking 14 years old again.”

“Sometimes, I swear, you’re a misogynistic asshole. I can date whoever I want.” I can feel myself shaking in response and I know this is going south quickly. I shouldn’t have yelled, but I can’t stop the anger that is fueling my reaction. How dare he. How dare he tell me who I can and can’t date. How dare he make me feel like I can’t make my own choices. How dare he stand here now and treat me like I’m his baby sister who needs his protection.

“Guys.. Let’s keep it civil.” Felicia cautions to us, glancing at the hallway where the kids are still washing their hands. Kevin has moved to stand next to her. It’s clear they both want to stay out of the cross fire for now.

“How long has this been going on?” Alex asks me, eyes narrowing with each word. I shrug. “That’s not an answer.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because you’ve been lying to me and I deserve to know for how long.”

“Wow.” I roll my eyes at him, “And I’m the dramatic one?” I walk casually over to the fridge and grab a bottle of water, taking a long sip as Alex continues to seethe. He is clearly still expecting an answer for me.

“February.” I say simply. We all watch as Alex explodes with anger.

“You have got to be kidding me!? I can’t believe this, Sam! I specifically asked you to stay away from Fiala. Now, I find out you went behind my back and have been seeing him since February? What the fuck! How am I supposed to trust you with my kids every day if you’re going to lie-“

“I lied out of necessity.” I cut Alex off. His chest is rising and falling rapidly as he looks at me. His blue eyes are a raging sea, but I stand my ground knowing what I said is the truth. “ You didn’t give me a choice. You made it clear that your expectation was for me to stay away. I tried and guess what, I failed. I didn’t plan for this. But it happened and I knew from the beginning that this was something really special. People wait their entire lives without finding this feeling.” I stop, letting my words sink in. He remains unchanged. I suck in a deep breath to steady myself again before continuing. “I’m sorry for lying to you. I’m sorry you're disappointed in me. But I will not be sorry for being with Kevin.”

Kevin steps towards me and puts his hands on my shoulders. His hands move down to my arms, then to my hips.

“Sam means a lot to me. We are good together.” As Kevin speaks, Alex doesn’t take his eyes off of me. Even though it’s difficult, I hold his gaze, knowing that if I show any weakness, this won’t end well for Kevin and I. He needs to know how serious this is to us.

“Alex, this really isn’t any of our business.” Felicia cuts in lightly. “Sam can be with whomever she wants. You can’t dictate her partners because it serves you.”

I glance over at Felicia, thanking her with my eyes for standing up for us.

“Well, clearly you knew about this all along.” He snips at her, folding his arms over his chest and turning his gaze back to me.

“Yes, I did.” She admits ,”And I encouraged Sam to be with Kevin because it’s clear to me how good they are together. Look at them right now. Standing together defending their relationship to you. Sam has idolized you since you two were little kids running around Wakota Arena. Do you think this is easy for her? Because it’s clearly not. And yet, she is willing to go toe to toe with you for him. Be the big brother that little sister deserves.”

We all go silent as Felicia’s words settle around us. Kevin’s hands on me are strong and re-assuring. I search Alex’s face as he stares back at his wife. The lump in my throat grows with each passing second. I feel so conflicted. This growing love that I have for Kevin is so powerful but the deep love I have for my brother makes my body squirm at the idea of him being disappointed in me. I open my mouth to try to speak the words that will make my brother understand, but I have nothing left to say.

Alex turns to me and Kevin again. He takes in the view of us. Me standing in front of my boyfriend with his hands on my hips protectively. When he finally speaks, his voice has lost some edge.

“This is real?” Alex asks, eyes flicking between Kevin and I.

“Yes.” Kevin answers for us.

“Okay.” Alex says. With a nod, he turns and walks out of the room. I frown deeply as he leaves. I turn to face Kevin, burying my face into his chest. He kisses the top of my head, hands rubbing small circles into my back.

“He will get used to this, Babe.” Kevin tells me. I nod quietly as the lump grows again, straining my chest until it feels difficult to breathe.

“He’s my hero.” I say to Kevin, tilting my chin up to look at his face. Sympathy swarms over his features as he gives me a tight squeeze. “And it sucks knowing that he’s upset because of something I did.” He nods and places a kiss on my nose, then each of my cheeks.

“You’re a good person with a kind heart who fell head over heels for your brother’s teammate. If this is the worst thing you “do” to your brother, I think he’s lucky.” Felicia shrugs before leaving the room in the direction of Alex.

“Maybe we should just go…” I sigh to Kevin.

“Just give him a minute, babe.” Kevin encourages me. “Let’s go play with the kids.”

We wander to the living room where the Stalock kids have continued playing, taking advantage of the adults being pre-occupied. Sawyer is playing with legos and Serena is playing with her play kitchen.

“What’s for dinner?” Kevin asks Serena as he sits next to her.

“Waffles!” She exclaimed, handing him a plastic waffle.

“My favorite!” He tells her excitedly.

I quietly sit next to Sawyer and watch as he attempts to build a house for his lego family. I watch in silence as he places brick after brick into place, thinking of the interaction we just had. It wasn’t horrible, but I wouldn’t chalk it up as a good experience either. I have no idea what will happen when or if Alex returns. I know if he doesn’t come, that’s his way of sending me off on my own.

“Are you sad, auntie?” Sawyer’s voice pulls me back to him. He looks at me with a tilted head.

“A little bit.” I respond to him. He nods and gets to his feet, running down the hall to a room I can’t see. Kevin’s eyes reach mine as Serena hands him a play cup full of fake coffee. He gives me a reassuring smile and I look away. His reassurance isn’t what I want right now. I want Alex to tell me this is okay with him.

Sawyer comes running back in with his stuffed Dalmatian decked out in firefighter gear. He got it at the local Fire Department’s annual open house. Felicia and Alex took him after there was a house fire in the neighborhood. The combination of the chaos, sirens, lights, and smoke had scared him to the point where sleeping had been difficult. He lost a little of his innocence that day. When the firefighters gave him Sparky, he finally was able to sleep in his own room again.

“For you.” He holds Sparky to me and his sweetness makes a lump form in my throat.

“You are the sweetest boy in the entire world.” I reach for him and pull him into a tight hug.

We continue to play with the kids for another twenty minutes until Felicia appears as the timer goes off for the oven.

“Okay, kids, go wash up for real this time.” She shoos them out of the room. Her eyes find mine and she shrugs. “He’ll live.” She assures me, squeezing my arm. “Go pick a spot at the table.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t leave?” I question as Kevin comes behind me, placing a calming hand on my back.

“No, he’ll be out in a second. I told him to get his shit together before he comes out for dinner.” She rolls her eyes. “He still sees you as the small, five year old who needs protecting.”

“I see her as seven years old with a broken arm and missing teeth in her mouth after falling off the monkey bars.” Alex says from behind us. He is leaning against the wall, arms crossing his chest menacingly. “And that’s how you’re going to look if you hurt her.” He points an accusing finger at Kevin.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Kevin’s eyes meet Alex’s with conviction. They stare at each other before Alex gives a curt nod and walks to the table.

“Let’s eat.” _ _ _

As difficult as it felt to walk into the house earlier, the night has turned out to be actually… fun. Kevin is in his prime, telling jokes, being gracious and showing Alex with each movement how serious he is about me. Alex seems almost convinced by the end of dinner. His shoulders have dropped their obvious tension and he seems to be breathing regularly. I let myself relax back into my chair as Felicia brings out cupcakes from a local bake shop for dessert. I intercede as Sawyer tries to grab the exact cupcake Serena is reaching for.

“Dude, be considerate of your sister.” I give him a look and he slumps back. “You can have the one next to it.”

“Sawyer.” Alex corrects him as he throws his arms dramatically and hits his head against the table. “Listen to your auntie. She knows what she’s talking about.” Our eyes meet and I give him a small smile. Sawyer takes the other cupcake and all is well at the table again.

“Well, I’m sorry to eat and run, but I still have a lot of packing to do before I leave tomorrow.” Kevin says regretfully.

“No problem.” Felicia gives him a warm smile. “It was great having you over.. officially.” She slides a knowing look my way.

“What.” Alex asks.

“Nothing.” Felicia says, giving his forearm a reassuring squeeze. Alex turns his hard gaze to Kevin.

“Stay out of the basement.” He tells Kevin.

“Sure. I will for the next four months.” Kevin gives him a large, shit eating grin that makes Alex’s cheeks flush.

“Okay, how about I walk you out, Kev." I say, standing and walking towards my boyfriend. “Don’t stir the pot.” I whisper sharply at him so only he can hear.

“Al, thanks for being so welcoming to me when I arrived. I really appreciated it and am looking forward to next year… as both your teammate and Sam’s boyfriend.” Kevin shakes Alex’s hand who sizes him up.

“You’re a hell of a hockey player. You better be one hell of a boyfriend too.” He pauses, glancing over at my face. “I haven’t seen Sam like this ever.. so you must be.” He gives Kevin a nod. We slide passed Alex and head to the front door.

“Best boyfriend ever.” Kevin cheeses at me as we walk down the porch to his car. I laugh, bumping his shoulder.

“Your competition is pretty slim pickings.” I roll my eyes at him. “My high school boyfriend was a total clown.”

“Yeah he was for letting you go.” He murmurs, taking me into his arms as he leans against his car. He pulls me tight and breathes in deep as we hug. “You’re still okay to take me to the airport tomorrow?” He wonders.

“Yeah, I need every second I can get with you.” I push up to my tip toes and give his lips a sweet smooch. When I pull apart, I look into his brown eyes that have deepened into darker pools in seconds.

“I usually don’t care about leaving after the season.” He begins. “But leaving you feels really fucking hard.”

“I’ll be there soon to visit though! And you can show me around to all your favorite places.”

“I’m excited for that.” He confirms, sliding his hands from my hips to the small of my back. His fingers begin to push further down and I drop my head to his chest. “You should come back with me. Now that Alex knows, you can sleepover.”

“I should stay here and make sure things are okay.” I tell him even as my heart aches to go with him.

“I understand.” He replies softly. “I really have to get going. Otherwise, I’m not going to be bringing any clothes back with me.”

“Well you probably have enough in Sweden to sustain you.” I tease him. Kevin’s closest is huge and he’s always coming home with more clothes than he left with after road trips.

“Haha.” He rolls his eyes before leaning down and capturing my lips again. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Let me know how that goes.” He jerks his thumb in the direction of the house. We pull apart reluctantly and he gets in his car. I stand in the driveway and watch, waving at his car as he drives out of sight.

I blow out a heavy breath and turn back to the house. The hesitancy has returned. Will Alex be more upset now that Kevin is gone? Maybe it was all an act and he’s pacing the living room ready to scold me. When I enter the house again, Alex is doing none of those things. Instead, he is still in the living room by himself sipping a glass of bourbon. The glass is perched on his lips as he takes a hefty pull. The large ice cube slides around in his glass as he lowers it back to the table. I silently walk further into the room and take a seat on the couch across from him. His eyes meet mine as he takes his hat off, running his hand through his hair.

“So you and Kevin.” He begins. I nod in response. “I pretty much knew where this was going from day one.” Alex confesses to me. “I noticed the way he looked at you right away. I didn’t know him at that point, except that he had a tendency to pop his mouth off on the ice. And I got worried that a guy like that doesn’t know respect.”

“He’s not like that with me.. well, he’s a little cocky.” I confess, thinking of how our relationship started in the beginning. He was always so sure this would work. “But he really cares about me.”

“Yeah, I can tell. I knew for sure something was going on at the last home game. He kept lingering… like he was waiting for something.” Alex laughed. “He wasn’t very subtle.”

“Yeah, he’s been itching to tell you. Plus, I’m going to visit him in Sweden at some point this summer.” I shrug. We grow silent as Alex takes another pull of his drink.

“Are you happy?” His question catches me by surprise. I never thought he cared enough to ask.

“Very.” I respond truthfully. I have never felt this secure, content, joyful, excited, or wanted in any relationship I’ve had before. Kevin and I still have that instant connection and we just work so well together. “He makes me happy.. I feel things with him I’ve never felt with anyone before. I meant what I said earlier- this is something different. Something real that we need to see through.” Alex nods in understanding. He’s been there. He’s felt this way before.

“If it’s as good as you say it is then yeah. You need to go all in on this and see where it goes. I mean it though, I will fuck him up if he hurts you.”

“I can take care of myself.” I say. “If he leaves me, I’ll slash his tires… or bleach his dark designer jeans.” I throw in a joke and Alex grins in response.

“That’s my girl. Just… I have one request. Please don’t have sex in my house.” Alex says with a pained look on my face.

“Oh god.” I mutter, running a hand through my pony tail.

“Okay, I’m kidding.. kind of?” He winces and sucks in a breath.

“How about we just adopt the you don’t ask and I don’t tell policy?”

“I can live with that.” He says to me with a small smile, shaking his head. “I love you, Sam. I hope he gives you everything you deserve.”

“He’s trying to.” I tell Alex. “He’s good to me.”

“Do you love him?” Alex asks me, eyes searching. I nod. “Does he know?” I shake my head no. “Mm, I think he does after today.” He rises from the chair and comes over to give me a quick squeeze. “Goodnight, Sam.”

“Hey Al.” I call to him as he enters the hallway. “I’m really sorry I lied to you. If it makes you feel better, I hated every minute of it.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to, Sam. I want you to feel like you can tell me anything and I failed.” I drop my eyes because I’m not quite sure how to respond to that. He’s right. His stance from the beginning was that this wasn’t okay. What else was I supposed to do? “You’re my little sister and sometimes wanting to protect you still consumes me.” I nod in understanding because I do. Alex has always been there; my original strong and steady. “But hey, Serena will be old enough someday where I’ll be more concerned with her boyfriends than yours.”

“Thank God for that.” I stick my tongue out at him. He laughs in response.

“Something tells me though that you and Kevin will be married with babies by then.” He gives me a pointed look before disappearing down the hall.

My heart is warm as I settle back into the chair. Married and having Kevin’s babies? Sounds like a dream come true.

#letters in your last name au #kevin fiala #Kevin Fiala Fic #los angeles kings #my writing #hockey fan fiction #hockey writing #NHL writing

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