#rose gold metallic shoes

[pearlprincess02]

style guide: ARIES EDITION

ARIES RISING

rihanna - jupiter in 1st house, james dean - uranus & chiron & north node in 1st house, kendall jenner, miuccia prada - sun & north node in 1st house, barbra streisand - sun & mercury in 1st house, penélope cruz - sun & mercury in 1st house, cardi b - moon in 1st house, sophie turner - moon & venus & part of fortune in 1st house, amber rose - moon & juno in 1st house, nikki reed, shakira - chiron in 1st house, stevie nicks - north node in 1st house, vinnie hacker - ceres in 1st house,

style aesthetic: bold & dramatic, leather chic, modern minimalism, rockstar vibes, athleisure luxe, metallic accents, animal prints, vintage with a twist, unexpected mixes, sunglasses as statement pieces, red, orange, and black

ARIES VENUS

marilyn monroe - venus in 9th house, audrey hepburn - venus in 1st house, elizabeth taylor - venus in 4th house, mariah carey - venus in 12th house, lady gaga - venus in 11th house, gigi hadid - venus in 12th house, rihanna - venus in 12th house, jennifer aniston - venus in 6th house, shakira - venus in 12th house, cristiano ronaldo - venus in 3rd house, gigi hadid - venus in 12th house, keira knightley - (unknown), cate blanchett - venus in 11th house, melanie martinez - venus in 5th house, tyler, the creator - venus in 9th house, sarah jessica parker - venus in 11th house, eva longoria - venus in 5th house, janet jackson - venus in 5th house, millie bobby brown - venus in 8th house, suga - (unknown), sarah michelle gellar - (unknown), madison beer - venus in 11th house, helena bonham carter - (unknown), gal gadot - (unknown), emma chamberlain - venus in 3rd house,

style aesthetic: confident & playful, bold & romantic, leather with lace, athletic luxe, fiercely feminine, metallic accents, graphic prints, tailored pantsuits, bold blazers, vintage with a modern twist, bold jewelry, statement sunglasses, and eye-catching hats, gold, silver, red, orange, and hot pink!

ARIES MIDHEAVEN

tyra banks - moon & mars & chiron in 10th house, kayne west - venus & mars & chiron & part of fortune in 10th house, angelina jolie - jupiter & chiron & ceres in 10th house, céline dion - moon & mars & saturn & north node in 10th house, cameron diaz - chiron in 10th house, julia roberts - north node & lilith in 10th house, sharon tate, meghan markle, the weeknd - pallas & part of fortune in 10th house, jessica lange - sun & mercury & venus & mars & north node & part of fortune in 10th house, jennette mccurdy - moon & mars & juno in 10th house, danielle fishel - sun & mercury & venus & mars & chiron in 10th house, kate moss - mars & chiron in 10th house, cindy crawford,

style aesthetic: tailored suits, sharp blazers, crisp shirts, bold statement necklace, a brightly colored pocket square, a unique pair of shoes, bold eyewear, orange, black, white, grey, red power suit, a red statement scarf, and red accents

VENUS IN 1ST HOUSE

selena gomez - venus in leo, elizabeth II - venus in pisces, kourtney kardashian - venus in pisces, beyoncé - venus in libra, katy perry - venus in sagittarius, zayn malik - venus in pisces, angelina jolie - venus in cancer, cameron diaz - venus in cancer, nabilla benattia - venus in capricorn, audrey hepburn - venus in aries, blake lively - venus in virgo, anna nicole smith - venus in libra, avril lavigne - venus in scorpio, jude law - venus in sagittarius , rachel mcadams - venus in scoprio, halsey - venus in scoprio, doja cat - venus in scorpio, priyanka chopra - venus in gemini, olivia rodrigo - venus in capricorn, nina dobrev - venus in sagittarius, madison bailey - venus in pisces, damiano david - venus in aquarius, maggie lindemann - venus in cancer, elle fanning - venus in pisces, olivia holt - venus in virgo, mina - venus in aries, sophie turner - venus in aries, isaac mizrah - venus in virgo,

style aesthetic: flowy fabrics, pastel colors, silk fabrics statement jewelry, natural textures, well-fitting clothes, minimal makeup, unique color combinations, unexpected layering, vintage pieces, bold statement piece, a head-to-toe monochromatic look, eye-catching earrings, handcrafted pieces, unique materials, a touch of lace, soft pinks, baby blues, lavenders

NEPTUNE IN 1ST HOUSE

kim kardashian - neptune in sagittarius, paris hilton - neptune in sagittarius, kylie jenner - neptune in capricorn, ariana grande - neptune in capricorn (conj. asc), scarlett johansson - neptune in capricorn, eminem - neptune in sagittarius (conj. asc), nicole kidman - neptune in scorpio, marilyn monroe - neptune in leo (opp. moon), damiano david - neptune in aquarius (conj. venus & tri. moon), björk - neptune in scorpio (conj. asc), nelly furtado - neptune in sagittarius (conj. asc), perrie edwards - neptune in capricorn (conj. asc), dave franco - neptune in capricorn (conj. asc), river phoenix - neptune in scorpio (opp. moon), lil peep - neptune in capricorn (opp. moon), lorde - neptun in capricorn (tri. moon), sofia richie - neptune in capricorn (tri. moon),

makeup style: dreamy & ethereal, soft washes of color, shimmery textures,  makeup uses cool tones, metallics, glitter, glowing skin, lightweight foundations, highlighter for a natural glow, graphic eyeliner designs, whimsical lashes, soft & natural lips, smoky eyes with a twist, smoky purples, teals, touch of silver, lavender, muted purples, blues, greens soft pinks, peaches

@pearlprincess02

[tarotwithavi]

How to dress according to your venus sign

Can also be applied for Rising and mid heaven.

For entertainment purposes only!

Aries venus

Bold. you should embrace bold and adventurous styles that reflect your fiery and passionate nature. Opt for vibrant, eye-catching colors like red, orange, and hot pink to showcase your enthusiasm and energy. Choose clothing that highlights your individuality, such as unique statement pieces and daring accessories. Aries Venus individuals often enjoy a sporty, active lifestyle, so incorporate athleisure elements into your wardrobe, like sneakers or activewear-inspired outfits. Show off your confident and independent spirit with edgy cuts and styles, like asymmetrical hemlines or bold patterns. Don't be afraid to experiment with fashion and be the trendsetter in your group.

Taurus venus

Taurus venus is for luxurious, earthy, and sensuous attire. Begin with soft, tactile fabrics like silk, velvet, or cashmere in earthy tones such as deep greens, browns, and soft pinks. Your style should prioritize comfort and quality, so invest in well-fitted, timeless pieces like tailored blazers, flowy maxi dresses, or high-waisted trousers. Accessories should be elegant and understated, favoring natural gemstones like emeralds and rose quartz. Shoes should be both stylish and comfortable, such as leather ankle boots or suede loafers. Hair and makeup should be natural and effortless, with loose waves or soft curls and a nude or earth-toned palette. Show off that neck gurlll.

Gemini Venus

you should embrace versatility and a playful sense of style. Gemini is ruled by Mercury, making communication and adaptability key. Opt for outfits that allow you to mix and match, like a wardrobe full of separates, bright colors, and patterns. Experiment with various accessories to express your ever-changing tastes. Consider wearing clothing that incorporates elements of duality or contrast, such as asymmetrical designs or reversible pieces. Gemini is an air sign, so lightweight, breathable fabrics like cotton and silk can be your best friend. Don't forget to change up your style regularly to keep things interesting, as Venus in Gemini individuals thrive on variety and novelty in fashion.

Cancer Venus

You should embrace a style that reflects your emotional and nurturing nature. For example, soft, flowing fabrics in gentle, watery colors like seafoam green, silver, and pastel blues that soothe your sensitive spirit. Incorporate vintage or nostalgic elements into your wardrobe. Embrace feminine, figure-flattering silhouettes that accentuate your curves and emphasize your nurturing qualities. Jewelry with moonstone, pearls, and other iridescent gems complements your lunar sensibilities. Wearcozy, comfortable clothing that exudes warmth and comfort, like oversized sweaters and cardigans. Incorporate subtle touches of sea-inspired accessories, such as seashell-shaped pendants or bracelets.

Leo venus

Channel your inner confidence and glamor. Choose bold and attention-grabbing colors like fiery reds, golds, and vibrant purples. Like luxurious fabrics that exude regality, such as silk or velvet. Incorporate statement pieces like a dramatic, floor-length gown or a tailored suit with a dramatic flair. Don't shy away from sequins, metallics, or animal prints. Accessorize with bold and extravagant jewelry, such as statement necklaces or oversized earrings, and make sure your hair is styled to perfection, whether it's flowing locks or a bold updo. Animal prints and gold jewellery were made for leo venus.

Virgo Venus

Go for clean, practical, and detail-oriented fashion choices. Embrace earthy tones such as muted greens, browns, and neutrals, which resonate with Virgo's grounded nature. Pay attention to the smallest details in your outfit, like perfectly tailored clothing and well-coordinated accessories. Choose modest, well-fitted pieces that emphasize your natural beauty and avoid anything overly flashy or extravagant. Your style should exude professionalism and functionality, so consider incorporating classic pieces like tailored blazers, pencil skirts, and crisp white shirts. Also go for comfortable yet stylish footwear, and keep your hair and makeup understated, emphasizing a natural and polished look. Adding a hint of vintage charm or retro-inspired pieces can also align with Venus in Virgo's appreciation for the past.

Libra Venus

You should embrace elegance and harmony in your attire. Choose clothing that embodies balance and refined taste, such as well-tailored suits or dresses in soft, pastel colors or shades of pink, which resonate with Venus's love for beauty. Opt for outfits with clean lines and symmetrical patterns, as they appeal to Libra's sense of equilibrium. Accessories like tasteful jewelry, scarves, and belts can enhance your look, adding a touch of sophistication. Keep your hair and makeup balanced and graceful, avoiding overly bold or dramatic styles. Ultimately, aim for an ensemble that exudes charm, grace, and a sense of unity to align with the traits associated with Venus in Libra.

Scorpio Venus

Go for dark, intense colors like deep burgundy, black, or dark purple to exude passion and depth. Choose clothing that highlights your curves and adds an element of intrigue, such as form-fitting dresses, lacy lingerie, or leather accents. Incorporate accessories like statement jewelry with mystical or occult symbolism, and don't shy away from bold makeup with smoky eyes and deep, rich lip colors. Embrace fabrics like silk and velvet for their sensuality, and let your clothing choices reveal just enough skin to leave an air of mystery.

Sagittarius Venus

You should go for bold and vibrant colors that reflect your love for exploration and spontaneity. Choose comfortable, travel-friendly outfits that allow you to move freely. Consider loose-fitting bohemian dresses, wide-legged pants, and flowy tops for a laid-back yet stylish look. Accessorize with statement pieces like oversized sunglasses, feathered jewelry, or colorful scarves to showcase your eclectic taste. Footwear should be practical yet fashionable, such as comfy sandals or unique, eye-catching boots..

Capricorn Venus

You should opt for a classic and sophisticated style that exudes professionalism and ambition. Choose well-tailored, timeless pieces such as tailored blazers, pencil skirts, and crisp white shirts. Earthy and muted colors like black, navy, gray, and olive green are ideal, as they convey a sense of seriousness and authority. Invest in high-quality, durable materials like wool and leather. Accessories should be understated but elegant, such as a simple pearl necklace or a quality leather handbag. Practicality and functionality are key, so go for comfortable yet stylish shoes like classic pumps or ankle boots.

Aquarius Venus

Embody a unique and futuristic style that reflects your individuality and love for unconventional beauty. Go for clothing that incorporates metallic accents, electric blues, and vibrant purples, as these colors resonate with Aquarius energy. Experiment with asymmetrical and avant-garde designs, such as one-shoulder tops or geometric patterns. Statement accessories like chunky silver jewelry, oversized sunglasses, and tech-inspired pieces can add a touch of eccentricity to your look.

Pisces Venus

Embrace a dreamy and romantic style. Opt for flowing, ethereal fabrics like chiffon or silk in soft, oceanic colors like seafoam green, lavender, or aqua. Incorporate loose-fitting and comfortable clothing that allows you to move gracefully. Accessorize with subtle, mystical jewelry such as seashell necklaces, pearl earrings, or pieces featuring fish motifs, as Pisces is associated with the fish symbol. Don't shy away from pastel hues, and consider outfits with a touch of shimmer or iridescence to capture the Pisces love for fantasy and illusion. Flowing maxi dresses, bohemian-inspired attire, or anything reminiscent of a mermaid's allure will resonate.

Let me know your thoughts

[rafeandonlyrafe]

nsfw masterlist two (18+ only!)

MASTERLIST PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE

unexpected consequences words: 700

bruised knees words: 2.1k

pink princess words: 2.4k

you made me this way words: 1.5k

clicker words: 600

good host words: 4.1k

pink roses words: 3.1k

fear not, bunny words: 600

when in rome words: 1.7k

dealer words: 2.5k

can i hold it? words: 2k

bésame words: 1.6k

pussy privileges words: 1.6k

under the covers words: 1.3k

punished words: 1k

mischief words: 1.3k

carnival words: 1.7k

three: barry words: 1.7k

mean daddy words: 600

new neighbor words: 1.4k

best friends dad words: 500 part two words: 500 part three words: 900

inspections words: 1k

full inspection words: 2.1k

cocaine in my lipgloss words: 2.1k

new follower words: 1.4k

crimson red words: 1.4k part two words: 1.3k part three words: 900

submissive side words: 900

baby shoes words: 2.3k

taken care of words: 2.2k

desperate measures words: 1.7k

lecture hall words: 400

glint of metal words: 800

deputy's daughter words: 1.6k

munch words: 300

general store words: 1.5k

twinkle twinkle little star words: 700

angel of a daughter words: 2.2k

easter day words: 1.3k

sleepover words: 700

proper thank you words: 600

those three words words: 1.2k

arsonist's lullaby words: 3.3k

feeling generous words: 1.3k

obsessive love words: 2.1k

purest honey words: 1.1k

distant calls words: 700

your duke words: 4.7k

moonlit beach words: 1.6k

in the middle words: 1.4k

traffic words: 700

chat words: 1.3k part two words: 700

the same tv words: 1.8k

almost sweet music words: 900

experimentation words: 6.9k

bound and bruised words: 1.5k

weekend away words: 3.2k

executive orders words: 3.8k

sparkling juice words: 1.9k

barrys girl words: 1.5k

iou words: 1.9k

heavy heat words: 1k

no words needed words: 1.1k

interruptions words: 1.4k

relaxing words: 900

ready words: 2.1k

my aphrodite words: 900

girls night words: 1.4k

mexico words: 1.2k

comparisons words: 1.5k

5 4 3 2 1 words: 1.3k

little black dress words: 1.5k

devotee words: 1.8k

heavy sense of guilt (part one) words: 900 part two words: 700

reckless words: 2.3k

stress relief words: 1.1k

reflective words: 900

gold medal words: 1k

reserved chair words: 10.9k

drummer in a band words: 2k

the bosses daughter part one words: 1.9k part two words: 1k

captive words: 3.2k

heat rage words: 1k

strictly professional words: 500

morning cravings words: 1.1k

other fingers in other holes words: 1.3k

sore and satisfied words: 1k

playroom words: 600

friction words: 1.7k

sunsets warm embrace words: 1.5k

kiss of death words: 2.9k

moans words: 300

[kayhi808]

First Crush - 3

*Abby's sticker to Bucky*

After work, the Avengers are relaxing in the common room or playing pool like Clint & Bucky. Hitting Bucky on the shoulder, "I heard lunch was entertaining", Sam enters the room with Nat.

Bucky glares a Nat. "What? I couldn't help it. It was so cute."

"Cute? Are we talking about Miss Abigail Rose?" Steve smirks at Bucky leaning up against the wall by the pool table.

"Who is Abigail Rose?" Clint cocks an eyebrow at Bucky.

Natasha leans in excited to tell the story, "Fury's new assistant got called in today and she had to bring her daughter to work with her. Just cute as can be. Sweet and precocious. She had stickers all over her shirt. How old was she?"

"Two? Three maybe?"

"Adorable! Made a beeline straight to Bucky." Bucky tries to concentrate on his shot while shaking his head but the tips of his ears are turning red.

Incredulously, "Wouldn't give me the time of day," Steve acts disgruntled & shocked.

Sam teases,"You weren't her type. She's into Cyborgs."

Steve laughs, "You're right because she loved the arm! The arm was so pretty. 'I loves it!' "

"Poor mom was so embarrassed. Abby didn't want to leave Buck's side. Finally before she left she peels off a sticker from her shirt and sticks it to his arm."

Sam nods, "It was the 2yr old version of giving someone your insta." They laughs at Bucky's expense and Buck rolls his eyes.

Most people are afraid of him. He doesn't need to threaten or say anything for people to stay away. He did not have that affect on Abby. She didn't fear him at all. She seeked him out. Her tiny body leaning against him. She didn't cringe at the feel of cold metal. Her little fingers traced the gold detail on his arm.

Nat grabs Buck's arm, "Aw, where's the sticker?" Turning it, this way and that. "You lost it," Nat frowns.

Bucky pulls out his ID card and shows them the back where he stashed Abby's sticker, joining in with their laughter. "They were cute."

Clint catches him, "They??"

"She."

"Uh uh, man. You said they."

Natasha smiles slyly, ready to play matchmaker. "Y/N is gorgeous!" Bucky shrugs yet nods staring at the sticker before shoving the card back in his pocket.

*****

Some days are such a struggle. You never would have thought you'd be a widow with a baby to raise by yourself. Abby's father was a pilot in the Air Force. That's what attracted you to begin with. The image of a sexy daring fighter pilot. Things Jason did or talked about were so exciting. He was an adrenaline junkie for sure. Which is fun for a boyfriend, but not the best for a husband & father.

Now, its just you and Abby fending for yourselves. This job with the Avengers was heaven sent. It was so hard to make ends meet but now that you're with the Avengers, a huge weight has been lifted from your shoulders. You'll be able to give Abby a better life. Yet, sometimes just the day-to-day chores overwhelm you.

You finished getting yourself ready for work and started tackling the task of getting Abby ready for daycare. You brush Abby's hair trying to get it into a ponytail. Don't know why you go through the effort, because it's just going to fall out by midday after playing and naptime. "Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Today is school day?"

"Yes. You get to go to daycare and see Ms. Grace and all your friends."

"Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Remember the man with the pretty arm?" She tries to turn around to face you and you have to face her forward so you can get the ponytail up.

"Yes, I do."

"Me, too." You nod, knowing where this is heading already. "Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Mr S'gent don't go daycare."

"No, he doesn't. He's a grown-up. He goes to work." Finishing her hair, you carry her back to the room to put on her shoes.

"Mama?"

Rolling your eyes, "Yes?"

"I'm not a grows up."

Sitting her on the bed you kneel before her to put on her socks & shoes, "Grown-up. No. You are my baby."

"Mama?"

"Abby Rose!" Making wide eyes at her, "You are making Mama crazy." Abby laughs and pats your head.

"Mama?"

"Yesssss, Abby. What?"

She places her little hands on each of your cheeks, "Cans I go to work with yous?" She gives you the most angelic smile. You growl, picking her up & throwing her over your shoulder. She screams and giggles. "Mama!!!"

Bringing her down, to prop her on your hip, grabbing her backpack & your bag to make the trek to her daycare which luckily is only a couple blocks away. "You need to go to daycare."

"But...but...I wants to be with yous," she pouts.

"But...but...NO. You don't want to be with me. You want to see Sargent Barnes." She throws her head back and laughs with a cackle. You shake your head at her. Excuse me, Lil Miss! Who's child is this??

"Mamaaa."

"Abbyyyy." You laugh but sober up, "I'm sorry, baby, but no. You need to go to school."

"But...but...what if he forgets me."

"He will never forget you. He has your sticker. He has your drawing."

She puts her thumb in her mouth & nods her head, but she looks sad. She rests her head on your shoulder for the rest of the walk to daycare.

Next Chapter

@waywardhunter95 @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @crazyunsexycool @thezombieprostitute

[mochiwrites]

Jellie tends to be a very curious cat, sometimes. She likes poking her nose into places it doesn’t belong, or snatching things from Scar and Grian when they catch her interest.

Maybe Scar should’ve known better, then.

He sits in his and Grian’s bedroom (it’s been theirs pretty much after the second month Scar moved in), a ring in his hands. The metal is cool against his palm, a soft rose gold. The band isn’t anything special, a simple engraving in it. Scar knew Grian would throw a fit if he found out Scar spent so many diamonds on the ring. So he tried to get something reasonable.

He can spoil Grian with the actual ring.

If he says yes, that is. Just the thought makes a shiver run of Scar’s spine. Is he really doing this? He and Grian have only been together for a year and a half, but Scar just knows that he’s the one. There isn’t any doubt in his mind about it. But does Grian feel the same?

Jellie jumps up on the bed next to Scar, meowing at him. She brushes her head against his arm as she settles beside him, and Scar smiles. “Well hello there beautiful lady. Are we requesting pets?” he teases as he brushes a hand through her fur. She curls up close to him, leaning into his touch. Scar sighs softly, scratching behind her ear. “I don’t know Jellie… do you think he’ll say yes?” he asks quietly. She stares blankly up at him. “Yeah okay, fair enough.”

Past their bedroom, the front door opens and shuts. “Scar, I’m home!”

Scar jumps up, disturbing a content Jellie. He shoots her an apologetic look, giving her one last pet. But the most crucial piece?

He makes the mistake of leaving the engagement ring on the bed.

As Scar walks out the room to greet his boyfriend, Jellie takes to making their bed her own. Yet as she moves, the shiny ring catches her attention. She tilts her head, curious about the shiny object. Sticking a paw out, she swats it. Again. And again. And again. Until the ring tips over the side of the bed, dropping to the floor with a ‘plop.’

Her pupils widen in that playful way they tend to do, wiggling before she pounces.

Oblivious to what his cat is doing, Scar is sweeping his boyfriend into a hug. “How was work?” he questions, looking down at Grian with a curious yet soft gaze.

“Tiring,” Grian huffs, content to melt into Scar’s grasp. He lifts his arms, returning the embrace as he does so. “I had to remake the blueprint at least five times until the guy was happy with it.”

Scar winces, “Eesh. Now I’m kind of glad he only wanted you to meet with him.”

Grian glowers at him in return, though the look is entirely playful. “Yeah, yeah.” He leans up, brushing their lips together in a soft kiss. “Consider yourself lucky.”

“I think I will, thank you.” Scar grins, stealing a kiss. “How does a movie and dinner sound?” He bumps their noses together as he smiles.

“Let me think about it,” Grian hums, booping his nose against Scar’s as he does so. “As long as there’s ice cream after.”

Scar lets out an affronted gasp, pulling away. “I’m offended you think there wouldn’t be ice cream after all!” he says as he walks toward the kitchen. “Go sit! I’ll grab the takeout leftovers.”

Laughing, Grian takes his shoes off and heads over into their living room. He finds Jellie there, playing with something caught between her paws. He fondly shakes his head at her, “What do you have now, miss?”

Jellie looks up at him with a meow as she swats at whatever it is she’s deemed her new toy, chasing at it. However, said mystery object knocks into Grian’s foot, and he gets it first.

Leaning down, Grian picks up what appears to be a rose gold ring. He inspects it in his hand, eyebrows knit together as he does. “Where did this come from?” He blinks at it, looking down at Jellie. “Did you rob someone?”

Jellie sits in front of him, slowly blinking. The perfect picture of innocence.

Shaking his head with a faint laugh, Grian looks at the ring again. His heart skips a beat as he really takes in the detail of it. He certainly didn’t buy it. Did Scar? And if he did then….

Heart a little louder, he turns to his boyfriend. “Hey, Scar?”

“Yes, love of my life?”

“Any clue what this is?”

Scar walks into the living room, the soft crackles of a furnace behind him. He pauses when he notices what Grian is holding in his hand. His eyes go wide, looking a little pale. To the side of Grian, he spots the movement of Jellie’s tail, and looks directly at her. “Traitor,” he mutters.

“Scar?” Grian questions, confused and… maybe a bit nervous.

“Haha uh… any chance we can forget this all happened and revisit it like. Next month?” Scar weakly chuckles, the epitome of nerves as he looks at Grian.

“What’s going on?” Grian’s brows furrow in confusion, a bit of concern leaking into his expression.

Scar knows trying to lie about it is practically pointless. Grian is too curious and too stubborn to let it go. And now that he’s seen the ring… Scar takes in a shaky breath. “Void, alright. Guess we’re doing this.”

He walks over to Grian, “May I?” He gestures for the ring, and Grian slowly nods. He hands the ring over to Scar, who accepts it with shaking hands. “Okay.” Scar sucks in a breath, unbelieving that he’s really doing this right now.

Slowly, Scar drops down on one knee in front of Grian, watching the way the other’s eyes go wide. But something about the position doesn’t feel quite right. Brows furrowing, Scar sets his other knee on the carpet below. “G? Mind kneeling with me here?” he asks, to which Grian nods. He joins Scar on the carpet, kneeling with him as well. “Much better,” he hums, pleased.

“Scar what?” Grian questions, lost and confused, and goodness his heart is beating so fast.

“I uh, I had a whole thing planned out, but Jellie seems to have thrown a wrench into all that,” Scar chuckles. “But it’s fine! I can improvise, who needs a plan?” He does. He needs a plan. Shaking his head, Scar reaches for one of Grian’s hands, grasping it in his own. He takes a measured breath, and begins to speak.

“I love you. More than words will ever be able to describe, G. You’ve done so much for me, more than I think I’ll ever be able to thank you for. You found me on the street, and despite being scammed by me, you still offered me a roof to live under, and a home to heal in.” Grian’s eyes are focused on him, listening with rapt attention. His gaze only worsens Scar’s nerves, heart beating a mile a minute. “You’re stubborn and witty, and sometimes you steal the blanket from me.”

Grian laughs.

Scar loves the sound.

“You don’t let me wallow in self pity, or memories of the harder times. You’re endlessly kind to both myself and Jellie, and everyone around you, even if your patience runs a little thin and you get snippy. We may get into a minor disagreement here and there, but you always come back around to me.” Scar smiles softly at him, so painfully fond and loving. “Back on that world… I never thought I would get to live life again. Or even enjoy the night sky without being afraid. It felt like a part of me was always missing, but I found that part with you.”

“Scar…” Grian trails off, face going red.

“G, you’re my home, my light. I want to spend every day waking up next to you and messing up pancake batter with you,” Scar laughs, the sound wet and shaky. Grian laughs with him, sounding just as affected. “I want to hold you on your bad days, and on your good ones. I want to be there through everything, for the rest of our lives. You’ve reminded me what it’s like to live and love, what it’s like to be me. There’s no one else for me, my heart and souls are yours.”

Scar swallows, holding the ring out to him. “So… will you entangle your life with mine forever? And marry me?” His expression turns bashful as he asks, and Grian is red in the face.

“You…” he trails off, amazed and in disbelief all at once. He looks between Scar and the ring, and he shakes his head. “I’ve been trying for days to find the perfect way of proposing to you, and you go and pull the rug right out from under me,” he laughs. “Curse how perfect you are sometimes.”

“C’mon G, you’re really leaving me hanging here!” Scar whines at him, making Grian laugh all over again.

Grian wraps his arms around Scar’s shoulders, pressing their lips together. “Yes, you spoon. I don’t want anyone else. Just you.”

If their neighbors hear how loudly Scar yells, well… it’s a warm congratulations to the newly engaged couple.

Jellie watches her humans cry in each others arms, tail flicking lazily at her side. She better get extra treats for this.

(It’s only later, when they’re sitting on the couch, curled into each other, that Scar realizes what Grian said. He turns to him, “Wait, you were planning to propose too?”

Grian snorts with laughter, “Hadn’t even picked out a ring, but yes Scar, I was.”)

[darknight3904]

Memory and Devotion

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛʟʏ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰᴏᴜʀ / ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ꜱɴᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪꜱ ᴄʀᴀᴢɪɴᴇꜱꜱ.

ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ɪɴ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏᴠ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜɪꜱ ʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ꜱᴛᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇᴅ ᴀ ʀᴏʟᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇꜱ ᴍᴀʏ ᴏʀ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴏᴄᴄᴜʀʀᴇᴅ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟʏ ᴀ ᴍʏꜱᴛᴇʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴜꜱ ᴀʟʟ.

The bruise on his neck aches as a nameless Avox blends skin-colored makeup into his neck to cover it up. Their touch is too forceful but it gets the job done and Coriolanus knows the importance of looking good for a camera.

He plays the part perfectly, he always does. He shakes hands and smiles politely at those in attendance. The soft click of a camera reaches his ears and Coriolanus hopes the Avox's work hasn't faded away.

The tang of the lemon drink being served burns at the back of his throat. It's your favorite, he remembers the many times he'd bring it to you at countless galas you had attended with him. Coriolanus found himself wishing that you were here, at his side sipping at your own lemon drink and laughing next to him.

No one is laughing tonight though. The mansion is filled with a strangling air of sadness as Coriolanus pretends to inspect the roses on the table.

Dinner passes slowly and Coriolanus fights to swallow the lump in his throat when dessert is served. The delicate cakes with powdered sugar on top are your favorites. The china plate underneath the sweet is staring at him in mockery with its light blue flowers and intricate gold trim.

His head feels like it's stuffed with cotton as he bids your parents goodnight. Your father thanks him, something about being a wonderful partner and friend to you and Coriolanus can't look him in the eye, instead, he focuses on your father's shiny black dress shoes. Your mother gives him a warm hug and she almost smells like you as Coriolanus keeps his face devoid of all emotion.

Time is a funny thing. Coriolanus figures this out on the night of his 30th birthday. The city lights of the Capitol shimmer as he stares at them when he realizes how long it's been since he's seen you. He wonders what you'd think of him now. Sometimes he swears he can hear you voicing your opinions through the empty halls of the mansion. Moments like that have left parts of the mansion frozen in time but the sunroom has the worst of it. Coriolanus never goes in there yet he has an army of maids tending to it daily, keeping it devoid of dust and disrepair. Everything is just as you left it, from your books with the dog-eared pages to the slightly askew desk chair and the squished pillow you liked to put behind your back for support.

Everything is just as you left it, ready for your return, just as he is now as he sits at his desk, mind replaying the last moments he shared with you.

His heart was pounding as you struggled against him. Both of you had been a wild blur of limbs and metal in the dark as he gained the upper hand in the fight you had started.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

His enraged voice filled up the room as he grabbed at your hand and ripped the chain away from his neck.

Your answer is swift and unyielding as something plunges into his side. He feels blood soak into his shirt and lets out laugh. What a clever girl you were, using the paring knife that had been at breakfast this morning.

Sure, you were clever sneaking up on him and then stabbing him. But, if you had actually been smart, you would've used a bigger knife. If only you had waited, steak was being served for dinner later, now that knife would've been perfect, with its longer blade and serrated edge.

Blood drips onto the floor as Coriolanus grabs at the chain, still attached to your ankle.

"We could've talked it out, you know. I'm a great listener."

Your time in this room has made you weak. He's able to easily staddle you and quickly use his weight against you.

The struggle you put up is admirable, futile, but admirable. The chain reminds him of a snake constricting its prey before its meal as your arms flail beneath him. Soft gasps of a dying girl reach his ears but his brain feels fuzzy as he wraps the chain around tighter.

He'd hold it for a few seconds and then let it go. That would teach you your lesson. Hopefully you'd never be brave enough to fight against him like this again. Then, he'd take you upstairs and show you the maroon curtains he picked out. Perhaps you'd like them even more than the blue ones. He wanted to have strawberries tonight, big ones, just like the one you offered him the day he first laid eyes on you.

"Coryo!"

Your voice, barely a whisper is fluttering in his ears.

"Coryo!"

There you are, saying it again. It sends a warm tingle down his spine.

He feels a smile stretch across his face.

"Coriolanus!"

His eyes flutter open and he feels the slight bit dizzy as he forces his eyes to focus. For a moment he swears its you, back from the dead, rousing him from his sleep.

"Sorry, you seemed like you were having a nightmare." Livia says, backing up from him when he sits up, neck stiff from falling asleep at his desk.

"Its fine." He replies "Its late. What're you still doing up?"

"You try sleeping with someone kicking at your bladder every five minutes." She laughs

Coriolanus' eyes follow her hand and he watches her hand gently rub over her swollen stomach. A glamorous yet tasteful ring glints on her left hand in the low light of his desk lamp.

"Right, I forgot about that." He says

Livia lets out a slight hum and he looks away, mind racing with thoughts of you.

"Are you alright, Coriolanus? You seem upset." She asks

What a doting wife he has ended up with. How thoughtful she is, asking if he is alright.

"I'm fine. Just thinking about the past."

53 years later

"Tonight's preparations for the conclusion of the Victory Tour have been finished, sir."

"Good. How far away is the train?" He asked

"About 4 hours sir. When the Victors arrive, their stylists will need about an hour to get them ready. Their escort contacted the Capitol about twenty minutes ago." The maid replies

He nods, ready to dismiss the maid and go back to his work. But, the way the sunlight streams through the curtains stops him. Maroon, a favored color of his looks back at him.

"Tell everyone who is finished with their jobs to go down to the basement. There's a separate bedroom down there with boxes of blue curtains. I want them washed and hung before the party begins." He orders

"Yes, sir."

He isn't sure of the reasons behind his actions. Hanging up those old blue curtains. Perhaps old age is making him sentimental. Sentimental for what, he wasn't entirely sure anymore.

Hours later, the mansion is still a buzz as workers rush around trying to fulfill his command of washing hundreds of curtains. They remind him of little worker ants scurrying around, keeping the nest clean.

His shoes click slightly as he wanders through his home, taking in the decor, making sure it is all as he desires. His wandering leads him through the maze of hallways, and before he knows it he's standing in front of the sunroom.

Coriolanus knows he ordered that the sunroom remain untouched, expect for its daily cleanings and basic upkeep of fresh paint every few years, nothing should disturb the room.

Everyone in the mansion knows that this room is off limits no matter what occasion it is.

So why was he staring at the room, its doors thrown open with three workers, inside moving furniture around, discussing about who was going to clean up the large stack of books that had fallen of the desk.

Your desk.

Your books.

Your room.

You.

He knows his rage frightens the workers but he can't bring himself to care as they scurry out, heads bent low, apologies on their lips. His mind races with ways to do away with them, Perhaps a swift poison, or maybe they'd become Avoxes. He'd decide on a punishment once his mind was clearer.

He feels his bones ache as his brain reminds him just how much he misses you. It had been years since he properly thought about you and your demise. You had been dead to him for so long, but now your name felt like a curse on his lips.

Unsteady feet carried him into the sunroom, He hadn't been in this room since your wake.

His eyes take in the room he had regarded as sacred for so many years.

Ruined. It was ruined.

So many years of memory and devotion, ripped from him by three incompetent workers he had brought into his home.

Your books and desk had been shoved into a corner. Some your favorite reads were scattered on the floor. His hands shake and his back aches as he reaches to scoop them back up, wishing he remembered exactly what order you had kept them in.

He fixes the room by himself, ignoring the offering of help from different maids, dismissing them rudely. It takes time but he has everything back in its place. Or at least he thinks its back in place. He can't remember exactly how everything was and he wishes he could.

He sits at your desk, inspecting the little doodles you had drawn on a few pieces of paper. A flower on one, a heart on the next. Your name written in exaggerated cursive. One paper at the bottom of the stack remains unfinished though. His name, written in the same cursive.

'Cory'

The beginnings of the 'o' are there but its as though you were called away from your work. Perhaps you would've finished this if he hadn't strangled you down in that basement room.

He traces his finger over the page that had yellowed over the many years it had been apart from you.

Tears threatened to spill from his blue eyes as he looked at your name on the paper. His hand ran over his face, it was so wrinkled and old. Perhaps it was good you were gone. Would you have even liked him if you knew what an ugly old man he had become?

Perhaps it was better that you were frozen in the past. At least you never had to witness what he had become to sit on the throne he had now.

The soft click of the door to your room opening interrupted his train of thought.

"Sir, the Victors have arrived with their escort and mentor."

Coriolanus decides you would've loved this party. From the decorations to your favorite drink being served to everyone. Most of all though, he knows you would've loved getting dressed up for it. You had always looked so breathtaking in your gowns.

Cheers and claps filled his ears as he waved at the crowds of Capitol citizens that had arrived at his home while he was picking up the pieces that remained of you.

His eyes scan the crowd and bright colors look back. Over the top makeup and wigs glitter in the night as he looks through the crowd.

Finally though, he sees her. The girl who whose fighting spirit reminds him of you and how hard you tried to get away from his grasp that day in your room. He smiles at her and she stares back, eyes as hard as steel as he takes a sip of his drink.

Katniss Everdeen is watching as he finally makes his decision about this years Quarter Quell. She won't go on to haunt him the way Lucy Gray does. The way you do. The Girl on Fire will be snuffed out, he'll see to it himself.

Bonus Part to this series

Series Masterlist

Thank you for reading this series. This is the final part of It Burns For You. If you'd like to read more of my work, check out my masterlist or follow for more. I do plan to write more for Coriolanus.

Taglist:

@xxfanfictionxx @m-ichelles-world @horcruxmanor @crispymentalitytaco @nowitsmissing @rybunnie @abcdefghijklmmopqrstuvwxyz @jackquinnswife @nadisk @ms-longbeach @wearemadeofstardust0 @yourmomsbjtch

@livvieboo719 @bxtchopolis @angrytriumphtree @zizouu23 @hanversace @hanversace @511isa @tatertooted @manoknapula123 @teamostevengrant @daddiejaehyun @daisiesfor-mylove @lovelypaigey @readingthingsonhere

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@katherines-imagines

@stelleduarte

@snowtargaryen

@imnotafishimamermaid

@marecaltrashhh

@livingdead-reilly

[tropicalszns]

hii i just saw your recent post asking for requests.

i was thinking about one where nanami’s your therapist and you’ve been going through a difficult time recently, maybe with like work or family stuff, and you feel he’s the only one you feel calm by and end up catching feelings and he definitely likes you too, and then at some point when she has a breakdown in a session and it all blurts out and then sfw or nsfw from there lmao. maybe he feels guilty about reciprocating or smth bc it’s not professional. ‘we shouldn’t be doing this’ type shi.

love your work btw and your page is so pretty xx

THERAPY SESSIONS !

⋆˚⟡˖° 𐙚 nanami kento x black!fem!reader

about

you end up falling in love with your therapist, nanami, but he loves u too

content contains

NSFW ! ꒱ angsty-fluff, finger-fucking, crying, mention of death (brief), consent checks, cowgirl position, backshotsss, nanami just being such a sweetheart i love him

word count

4,427

a/n

THANK YOU SM!! it rlly brings a smile to my face when people love my work bc it motivates me to keep making more content!! this one is saur interesting, i hope this is good type shi

Your leg bounced against the wooden floor. Your heart thumping with anxiety, your skin freezing with goosebumps. The air around you felt cold and dry, the water filter two seats away from you could be heard buzzing softly. The coffee table in the middle was filled with magazines, talking about subjects about celebrities and how to stay consistent with your routines or something of that nature. But alas, none of them was in your interest.

You pressed your back against the plastic black chair, placing your arms on the cold, metal armrest. Your breath hitched, looking around the dull room. This was hour first time going through with therapy. Of course, it wasn’t your first time— but it technically was. You were either too scared or never enjoyed the therapist you were talking to. They would be too inconsiderate, too busy, or you just didn’t like them.

You were snapped out of your thoughts, only to be heard by your first and last name. Your ears perked up, “Yes?” You felt a pairs of eyes watching you as you rose up from your seat, it felt triggering. You saw a lady with a slicked back bun, thin-rimmed glasses and a mole by her bottom lip. She smiled at you so sweetly, her shirt having the logo of the company on her right chest, and her pants having a slick leather texture. Her arms having dainty, small gold bracelets and bangles.

“Mr. Nanami is ready for you,” she announced. “follow me.” You nodded, following her down the hallways. Each step felt nerve-wracking, the hallways felt like they were creeping in, and the air continued to feel colder and drier. It was like your mind was spinning, you couldn’t control your unsteady breathing.

“Here we are.” She interrupted your thoughts with the open door of your therapist’s counseling office. It was a white painted room, plants specifically placed around, a large dark-ish blue couch with white and ivory pillows. A thin gold table, two books placed on top of each other. A small fake plant in a wooden circular vase. Across from it sat a man with slicked back and neatly parted blonde hair, a chiseled jawline, with some fitting thin eyebrows and small eyes. He wore a necktie with a dotted pattern, blue dress shirt underneath his tan blazer with matching slacks and light brown shoes.

You blinked at him, slowly stepping into the room. It was a contrasting temperature from what the waiting room was. The door closed behind you which made you jolt. You glanced around the room, fiddling with your fingers. “Good afternoon,” the man spoke, his voice deep and thrilling. “you can have a seat on the couch.” His hand stretched out the dark blue couch.

You nodded, making your way to the couch and sitting down. “Hello,” he smiled. You looked around the room, moving back against the couch. “Hi.” You waved, returning the smile sheepishly. “how are you feeling, today?” He asked, adjusting clipboard on his lap. He took a pen from his chest pocket and clicked it. The clicking of the pen made you uneasy, letting out a sigh.

“I’m feeling fine, I guess.” You shrugged. Nanami could tell that you were feeling uncomfortable and uneasy, he wrote down your initial reaction upon entrance and hummed. “So, I see that you’re feeling a bit nervous? Is this your first time going to therapy?” He assumed, watching you subconsciously bite on your bottom lip and fiddle around with your fingers. “No.” You shook your head.

“I’ve went to therapy before, it’s just they never worked out for me. I didn’t like my therapist, so I just stopped for a few months because I.. I was just scared to try it again.” You explained. You couldn’t help but look into his eyes, they were so mesmerizing, so.. relaxing? “So you came here because you wanted a rebuttal at it?” He interrupted. You nodded, watching him write down the words you’ve just said. “Well, I am glad you’re giving therapy a shot. My name is Dr. Kento Nanami, but feel free to address me however you’d prefer.” He chuckled dryly, trying to lighten up the mood. “Let’s start off with some questions, shall we? I want to get to know you.” He said warmly.

“To begin, what do you expect from our therapy sessions? For example, you expect to experience this, or you expect to feel this after a session.” Nanami spoke in a soft and polite manner, making you feel at ease. “Uhm, I expect to feel better, I guess?” Your breathing came out roughly, your hands rubbing on your knees. “Better? How so?” He questioned

“Better as in, I expect to feel more aware of my feelings and learn how to control them. I have a rough time with doing that because I tend to let my emotions get the best of me.” You spilled out your thoughts for a moment, not intending to. “Hm, interesting.” He marked down in the clipboard. “Well, what do you mean by letting your emotions get the best of you? Can I get an example.” He tilted his head ever so slightly. He was so interested in you, as he is with his other clients but you were different, he didn’t know how. The warm and comforting smile never leaving his face as he watches you speak. You were slowly getting more comfortable in the environment, which is a great sight to see from Nanami.

“Well, I was having an argument with my mom this one time and it got pretty heated. I wasn’t that mad at her but in the moment things got so intense so I just yelled at her and accidentally smashed her vase.” Your eyes filled with guilt, looking down at your hands on your knees. “It was a vase that my grandmother, her mom, gave her to her. Unfortunately she isn’t here anymore.. and it won’t be the same if I buy a new one.” Your vision began to cloud up, you swiftly wiped your tears before they fell. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Nanami’s smile dropped, his heart aching for you.

Nanami passed you the tissue box, you shook your head. “I’m fine.” You reassured, but both of you knew that you weren’t. “She got mad at me for about a couple months, we don’t really talk like that anymore. I just feel really bad about it. When I let my emotions get the best of me, I tend to do things out of my character, then that’s when I mess up.” You frowned, your heart thumping with anxiety as you continue to confess.

“I’ve lost friends, I’ve lost relationships with people I love all because I couldn’t control my emotions. I sit in my room and think if I’m just a bad person and I’m trying to change but I feel so alone and weak.” You finally let the tears run down your cheeks, wiping them with the wrist of your hand. “Sorry.” You apologized, you sniffed away some snot that probably wasn’t gonna run down your nose. “It’s okay, there’s nothing to be sorry about. I actually applaud you for telling me this, you’re taking baby steps which is a great step in the right direction.” He comforted. Nanami watched you nod at yourself but you still didn’t look proud. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, I don’t like that type of wording. You seem like a wonderful woman to be around.” Nanami’s smiled appeared once more.

“Thanks.” You felt your lips quiver into a smile for a second. You’ve been told this by many people before, but it honestly never felt genuine. Somehow and someway hearing it from him, from Kento, made you feel more confident on the inside. He seemed genuine. “I like that smile, y’know.” He saw a sparkle in your eyes he wanted to see more often. You shyly looked away. “Um, can I lay down?” You asked. Nanami nodded, “Of course. Do whatever makes you comfortable. This is a safe space.” He reminded. You lied down on the couch, pressing your back against the pillows and moving the others to rest your legs on the armrest carefully.

“Let’s move on, shall we?”

It’s been a good half a year after that first session. Each week you came back to see Nanami, and each session made you feel more and more comfortable in talking to him about your issues with work, school and just life. You couldn’t help but feel stomach churns when you’re near him. Recently you’d just gotten his number so you can talk to him after-hours about things.. professional of course.

You’d wake up early, already to see a text awaiting for you. “Good morning, hope your day turns out great! Can’t wait to see you for our session, much love, Nanami.” Much love. Much love. You felt like you were going crazy about this man. It was cutting into your work life. Every second, you would check your phone to see if he would text you knowing well he was at work, with other clients. The thought of seeing him talking to people besides you made you itch in your skin.

Your boss had told you multiple times to get off your phone when you’re on the clock, but you couldn’t help it. You know his break time, the time he starts work and the time it ends. It was getting to be an unhealthy obsession. You came home after a long day at work, plopping onto your bed. Your hands crossed over your chest, staring into the ceiling fan that was circulating around. “Do I like him?” You wondered. No, you shouldn’t. He was strictly your therapist, what a weird power dynamic. But he would always reach out to you after sessions, he even told you that you’re the only client he gave his number to! For fucks sake, he called you a client! Your hands reached your face, you began groaning loudly at your dilemma. You definitely like him.

But there was no way you could tell him that, everything would get awkward and you hated it. You didn’t want to switch to another therapist because you just so happened to like your current one. But you can’t leave Nanami alone. You want to be with him, you want him to call you a beautiful girl, a wonderful girl, you wanted his praise. It was like the only thing that mattered to you. You loved how genuine he was, he told you no lies and you loved that most about him. Nanami was perfect, so well kept, so professional, he had a PhD in psychology! He was so smart! There you are working an office job, never getting time to yourself. You didn’t know what to do with your life.

You knew this feeling was probably gonna wash away after a week or two. You were wrong, after each session the attraction and desire for him got stronger. The way he smiled at you was so captivating. His hair so neat, his golden watch glistening, his skin so soft and perfect. It could make a grown man cry from how beautiful he was. You knew deep in your heart, you had a deep desire and love for Kento Nanami, you couldn’t hide it anymore.

During one of your sessions, you began talking to him how overwhelming the workload and frustration. You were lied down on the couch, tears streaming down your cheeks. “My boss just expects so much more from me now, and I know I have been slacking but he’s giving me extra work to seem like if I don’t do it he has a reason to fire me.” You vented, squeezing a stress ball that he gave you. “Breathe..” Nanami reminded.

You took a deep breath, turning your head away. “Why have you been slacking, you’ve been telling me that work has been going well, suddenly you’ve been getting distracted? Can we talk about that?” He carefully asked, you were in such an emotional state he wanted to pick his words wisely. Nanami watched you chew your bottom lip, your fat tears streaming down your face onto your neck. He took a moment of silence for you.

“You’re gonna be weirded out, I can’t.” You shook your head. Nanami only smiled, “What? Impossible. I could never be weirded out by you.” Usually his words would reassure you, but this time it didn’t. No amount of comforting or soothing he can do could make you feel less guilty. You wanted this feeling to go away but you can’t, you wanted— no, you needed him. “Talk to me, I promise nothing you say or do will make me feel weirded out like you’re saying.” He continued to speak, his concern started to peak.

“Nanami,” you turned your head to him, you began to subconsciously squeeze the stress ball harder. “I.. you know how we’ve been texting a lot after sessions, and I’ve been trying to see what times you text me back, what you’re trying to text me..” Nanami chuckled, “You think I’m gonna be weirded out because you like to text back at my—” “Nanami, I think I’m inlove you.” The room went silent, no words could be spoken in that moment. Nanami’s breath hitched, it was like an eye-opener. There was no deny that he definitely had feelings for you as well, but he couldn’t say that, not in here.

“Are you..” he hummed, looking down at his clipboard. “Okay, well. Let’s..-” “I don’t wanna talk about it right now, can we just switch topics, please?” You interrupted, Nanami nodded. “As you wish..” he said lowly, guilt filling your eyes even more. It pained him to see you in that state, but it pained you even more to think you’ve went days thinking about him and practically losing your mind.

Later that night, you were curled in your bed, blankets over you as you closed your curtains and blocked any type of light. Your phone suddenly buzzed, turning over and picking your phone from the night stand. Your eyes squinted, it was a text from Nanami. “Hello, I know you were pretty upset about our session today, I’m sorry for unsatisfactory communication between us. I’d like to know if I can come over and talk things with you. I’d hate to see you upset. With everything going on, you don’t have to reply. Sweet dreams, Nanami.” You quickly replied back, telling him that he can come over and briskly gave him your address.

You got out of bed and rubbed your eyes, you took off your bonnet and tossed it somewhere, opening your curtains and trying your best to make everything look in tip-top shape. You got a text from him saying that he was outside, you sprinted and opened the door. You wiped your eyes, taking deep breathes before opening the door slowly. A small smile appeared on your face. “Nanami…” you said lowly. He smiled back, waving. “Hey listen, I’m sorry I acted so weird during our session today, I just so overwhelmed and.. I’m just really sorry, so much.. going on.” You allowed him in, and he only shook his head.

“It’s alright, I can understand. I’m sorry for such a short notice, I just wanted to talk to you.” He calmly spoke. You observed that he was still in his uniform but he had no blazer. His body so well-built and damn, he was tall. “Yeah, totally.. uhm,” you nodded, trying to maintain your cool as you glanced around. “Uh, would you like any water? Tea?” You offered, but he only kindly shook his head. “No, thank you. I don’t plan to stay long.” You felt your mouth get dry, gulping down your saliva. “Alright, well.. we can sit on the couch, my room is a bit messy.” You chuckled sheepishly.

You both made it to the couch and you sat down next to him. You watched Nanami sit down, a soft groan escaped his lips, he pushed his hair back to return it back to its slick and neat appearance. “Nanami.. before you talk I just wanted to apologize for telling you I’m in love with you. I shouldn’t have said that, at all. I put you in such an uncomfortable position and I didn’t even consider thinking if you were married or taken by someone.” You took a saddening moment to breathe. “It’s alright. ‘Cause I’m in love with you too.” You felt your body freeze, you raised a brow.

You began to laugh awkwardly, “Joking, right?” Nanami wasn’t smiling, he didn’t look like he had a joke planned for you. “Are you serious? I- I don’t know what to say.” Your heart began to pump faster than you can think. “You don’t have to say anything,” he reassured, he got closer to you, placing a hand on your thigh. “Can I.. kiss you?” He asked. Without any hesitation you nodded your head, “Yes!— I- I mean, yeah, of course.” Nanami lightly chuckled, he put his hand on your cheek, a thumb grazing your bottom lip. He admired your soft lips, he moved his thumb and pressed his lips on yours. You’ve been waiting for this moment, for months.

“Nanami..” you tried to speak, “Hush, please.” He silenced you. “I want you to enjoy this, I want you to relax.” He hummed. He pulled you on his lap, continuing to kiss you. You put your hands on his shoulders, the kiss becoming intense. “So beautiful,” he whispered, sliding his hand up your shirt, caressing your back. His lips kissing into your neck, hearing your sweet moans. He swore he could feel his slacks get tighter from him getting so hard from this.

Nanami slid your shirt off, revealing your glowy and supple skin. He couldn’t help but stare. You still in your pants with only a bra on now, you were such a sight for sore eyes. “Tell me when things get too fast. Alright, dear?” The cute pet name made you shudder, “Mhm.” You hummed. “I love you.” He looked at you, watching tears swell up. He knew this wasn’t professional, hell he shouldn’t even have been at your place. But, he couldn’t help himself. He’s gotten so close to you it’s like he couldn’t imagine a world without you in it. He loves you and he doesn’t think his job will even get in the way.

He knew this was wrong, his mind fogged with questions on how he got to this point with a mere client. He didn’t know why he was saying “I love you” to a client. He didn’t know why he wanted you. He didn’t know why he wanted to hold you, kiss you, be by your side. He didn’t understand himself, but all he knew was that he wanted more. “I love you too, Ken.” You spoke back. He pressed his face against your shoulder.

Sucking and kissing on your neck. Leaving a light purple mark that definitely will be able to show. He was so obsessed with your body. It was so soft, so sweet and rich. He had used his free hand and tried adjusting himself in his slacks. “Shit.” He cursed underneath his breath. “I need you..” he muttered. “Can I fuck you, please?” You were so taken aback by his politeness even though you were already half naked. “Nanami, you’re already stripping me.” You prompted. “I know, my love, it’s just.. I need to make sure you’re okay with this.” Nanami felt nervous and he usually wasn’t anxious about anything. The thought of him pumping his dick so roughly in your pussy made his dick twitch from his pants. He wanted this, so why was he scared?

“I am, I’m fine.” You assured. Nanami took a breath before sliding off your pants off, now you were in just your bra and underwear. He felt his heart racing as he slid your underwear down, he could see how damp the fabric was. He bit his bottom lip, moving his thick middle finger inside of your tight, wet pussy. You immediately clenched, gasping and slapping a hand over your mouth. “No— fuck.. are you okay?” He asked, his finger being trapped inside you. “Yes.. it’s just, your finger is just.. Give me a minute.” He nodded, letting you to adjust to his big finger. While he waited for the green light, he took your hand off your mouth. “I wanna hear you, your noises.. they are nice to listen.” Nanami expressed which made you flustered.

He instead held your hand, using his finger to pump you in and out. “Does that feel good?” He whispered, your back arching as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Ah- fuck..” you moaned. You gripped his hand tighter, trying to keep your composure. “F-feels so good..” you managed to spill out, your hips subconsciously bucking up as his finger slid deep inside you. The sounds of your juices gushing along his finger. He was knuckle-deep inside you, watching you break down over just one finger.

He thought that you were ready then slid his middle finger out. Before you could speak, he put in both his middle and ring finger. You clenched tightly around his fingers, your clit throbbing with sensation. “Oh- fuck! Kento..” you whined out. “Is it too much for you, sweetheart?” He asked. You simply shook your head, “No, I can take it..” you tried to say smoothly but your back arched, letting out a deep moan. “I’d hope so.” He muttered. You felt Nanami thrust his fingers into you deeper, you were on the brink of losing it all.

His thumb grazing over your clit and gently rubbing it. You dug your nails into the knuckles of his hands. Your other hand gripping his shoulders with your face curling up in pleasure. “Are you about to cum for me?” Nanami spoke. His deep voice sending thrilling chills through your body, “Mhm..” with your hum he pulled his fingers out of you.

“W-what? Why’d you do that?” You whined, the fullness that lingered left you. “Not yet, I want to put it inside..” he unbuckled his belt and zipped down his slacks, sliding his boxers along with it. You glanced down at his dick, gasping in shock. He raised a brow, “Is there something wrong?” He asked. You shook your head, “No- it’s- I’m sorry, I was just shocked I guess.” Nanami felt a twinge of embarrassment.

“I’m gonna put it in, alright?” He placed both hands on your hips. You cringed from the wet fingers attached onto you. One hand gliding his pink, fat tip that was wet with pre-cum along your wet pussy. He let out a throaty groan as he shoved his dick inside, his face scrunching up with desire. He heard your sweet moans leave your mouth, giving him no time to adjust before clenching around him. “Please, y- you’re gonna make me cum, don’t clench like that.” He grunted, “M’sorry, I can’t help it..” You apologized, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Jus’ take it,” he looked up at you, his hands easing to your waist. Nanami was too focused on wanting you to cum all over him, he didn’t ask if he could move. He began to thrust in and out of your sloppy pussy.

“N- Nanami, fuck, s’good.” Your words began to slur, your lips connecting to his to distract you from the increasingly rough and deep strokes. He kissed you back, moving his tongue in your mouth and swirling your tongues around. “Feels good, sweetheart?” He whispered against your lips. Your ass slapped against his thighs, your wetness smothering over his shaft and balls. You hummed, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Mhm, yeah.. s’deep.” Your moans couldn’t be stopped, your jaw dropping leaving your mouth wide open.

Your fingers rose up to his undercut, biting your lip as Nanami squeezes your ass. His thrust began to falter, the way your moans were clear in his ears made his dick twitch. Nanami grunted, it was getting hard and harder for him to concentrate. He meant to pull out but he was so drunk off your pussy it slipped his mind.

He slipped out of you and panted. He laid you on the couch on all fours, even though you could barely stand up on your own. Without any thought, he shoved his dick back inside you, groaning with pleasure as his hand grip your ass, fucking you roughly on your couch. “K- Kento, slow… slower please.” But Nanami didn’t listen, he unclasped your bra, pushing the straps off your shoulders. “Sweetheart, your pussy,” he moaned, his lips your ear as he played with your nipples. His chest against your back as he went faster and harder. “I love it so much, f- fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so quick.”

You subconsciously clenched around him, your nails digging into the armrest. You felt your eyes roll back into your head, your ass slapping against his waist, your boobs jiggling each thrust. “Ken.. M’gunna cum..” you warned, but he didn’t care. “Cum, sweetheart. Please, I need it so much.” Nanami swore he going crazy, his dick twitching as he kissed on your shoulder- the exact same spot he left the hickey. You took a hand and rubbed your throbbing and aching clit, putting your head down as you moaned. Nanami hid his face in the crook of your neck, pumping himself roughly into you, trying to make you cum. The euphoric feeling washed over you, soaking Nanami’s dick with your sweet juices. “Kennnn..” you whine. Nanami felt you shake underneath him, he was restricting himself so much he couldn’t help it anymore. He pushed your head down, firmly gripping your hair.

“Shh, please, take it, I’m almost there..” your muffled moans filled the couch, your legs tensing up as you soon felt a warm sensation in your stomach. The sounds of Nanami’s cum gushing into your womb made you whine. It filled you up so much, curling your toes in pleasure. Even after a minute he was still going, so much cum filling you, you were bound to get pregnant.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I couldn’t..” he panted, taking his hand off your hair and wrapping his hands around your waist. He still was deep inside you, not daring to move a singular muscles. He planted soft kisses on your neck.

“I love you, even if it’s wrong..”

made by, tropicalszns, please do not copy, steal or repost my work without permission

[bebemoon]

which shoes do you think the sailor scouts would wear if they actually existed?

sailor moon | pretty sure she'd wear any/all of the sneakers from the vans x sandy liang collaboration, cutesy ballet flats in general, and also these mikiosakabe x pink house "jewelry" mohair trainers

{ also including the magical girl footwear, the gcds "bunny" boots }

{ bonus: neo-queen serenity would wear the melissa x y/project "court" point mules in white }

sailor mercury | unif "seph" black satin mary janes

sailor venus | versace "gianni ribbon" low satin mules in pink

sailor jupiter | prada wave leather heel sandals from the "fairy collection" (s/s 2oo8), fendi tan suede floral embroidered boots (c. 199o's)

sailor mars | prada "cloudburst thunder" low trainers in red and trippen "turbo f" asymmetrical sandals in black

sailor neptune | prada black leather mary janes (c. 199o's), christian lacroix heeled point mules in blue and gold (c. 2ooo's)

sailor uranus | either a nice pair of lemon pepper steppers or some kind of slick suede bootie. prada embellished leather lace-up derby loafer, marsell "gessetto" ankle-high suede boots in black

sailor saturn | maison martin margiela tall tabi boots w/ round heel (a/w 2oo3), (and the more tame option) unif 90's inspired "penny" platform oxford shoe in black

sailor pluto | masha popova wheelspin boots (a/w 2o23), giuseppe zanotti metal printed t-strap sandal

chibiusa | loveshackfancy x shelby mid ankle boot and city boot "cheek & bone" heart boot in pink

tuxedo mask | loewe black leather rose heel sandal

[batsrambles]

just finished reading the raven boys, so while i wait for dream thieves to arrive at my door, here's the innacurate way my brain imagined the gang:

spoilers. if that's needed. plus warning, this is hella long

BLUE:

• sorry ok i could not imagine her with anything but blue hair. like a dark almost purply blue, the kind you could get away with by pretending it's black. i am 100% sure everyone and their mom imagined her with blue hair but shhhh my tumblr post my rules.

• big ol eyes. starin into your soul. idk why. felt right. my brain was like hmm magnet for energy = big ol starin eyes? window to soul? i think yes.

• back to the hair i could only imagine it like. spiky. like goth girl's first time cutting her own bangs. or like the animal crossing bed head hair when you don't log in for a couple of days and pop back up. half way through i reminded myself she has at least a tiny ponytail and can't have hair THAT short but oh well

• the clothes i kept imagining her with flopped from scene to like cottagecore but bright ass colours. so not cottagecore at all but like. the dresses skirts cardigans all that. but bright. honestly she's fashion goals in my head

• also unrelated but she'd def choose rosalina in any game she's an option. queen

GANSEY:

• play that funky muuusic whiiite boouuuyyy. except that mf has been like around the world in 80 days and does nawt stop running around after the ley lines so he is definitely not paper pale unlike someone

• i knowww he doesn't have glasses on for the majority of the book but i could NOT imagine him without them at all. like it was a shock any time it was mentioned he did have them on my brain had to buffer like "did he not. always have. them.??.????". the round metal frame kind, with nose pads, and rose-gold in colour

• brown eyes feel right for him. sad ol deer baby eyes

• also i kept. reading his lines. in an australian accent? i read a lot in public & i live in australia so thats probably why. i mixed it in with irish sometimes and i think that's because halfway through a page i'd start reading in my own voice in my head rather than making character voices. idk what was happening in my head

• i imagine he walked into a store once, looked at the shelves with all the polo shirts, took one of every colour, hasn't grown since so hasn't needed any other clothes, and has one specific colour for every day of the week + special occassions. also like seven pairs of the exact same shorts and wears his school shoes everywhere

ADAM:

• green eyes. but the browny kind. green-brown. hazel? idk. yk what i mean

• i also imagine he's Had the baby's first home-haircut thing goin on, then it grew out because imagine having time to go get a haircut with all he's got going on. he's the guy that's always holding his own fringe back with a hand to fucking see. he's definitely been forced to tie it up like a unicorn horn more than once. also don't think the back is safe. it's not long enough for an actual ponytail but it's thick enough for another unicorn horn

• freckles. drops mic. walks away. idc. he's the kinda guy to be freckly everywhere. won't elaborate. i don't think this is an uncommon opinion like blue and her blue hair

• also a mole like on his jaw. idk why. sitting here tryna imagine the characters n that's what i see so.

• also also i know his hair is "dusty" but my brain interpreted that as dirty blond when i think it's blond blond so oops

• also also also braces. idk why. he's a dork

• i read his lines in like a vaguely texan accent. Vaguely. idk why again. it's not like he's ever said anything to warrant that. i think i did a british accent at the start too 😭 sorry adam you didn't deserve that

can you tell i really like adam parrish

NOAH:

• looooong hair. worse than i imagined adam. like noah's is straight as fuck too. i also imagined he hunches just a lil bit, so his hair would be like half covering his face

• and i knowwww it's hella innacurate but fsr my brain saw him with pitch-black hair.

• so yes as you can tell i was imagining that one girl out of the tv yk the one whenever noah just appeared out of thin air. which was before i found out he was dead dead and not depressed-mentally-dead dead, so you can imagine the face i pulled like "oh fuck i was kidding when i imagined him ghostly"

• and after that point he got like rlly prominent cheekbones in my brain, like skeletal

• i also actually imagined him as rlly tall. idk why. it just felt right. like an ominous shadow in the distance

• also also how could he not have like THE 2000s emo fringe. HOW COULD HE NOT

• also also also tooth gap idk why feels right felt right will always be in my head

my favourite little freak. fav character. was so distraught when they found his license

RONAN:

• i am incapable of tanning like at all i just get sun burnt or more freckly so i can only imagine ronan as the same

• also i could only imagine him as lanky as fuck for 90% of the book. i know he's nooooot i just. i couldn't imagine anything but tall and lanky. it was only after the chapter with adam's dad that i gave in and stopped imagining him with twig arms

• like adam, i also imagined him with freckles but like, not everywhere like adam, just in very specific spots. he's got more moles than he does freckles. so i wouldn't really describe it as freckly the way i imagined adam freckly. confused? good.

• also my brain associated him with a dark purple. idk why again. it just. it feels right.

• i feeeel like he'd have too many piercings but can't get away with half of them because damn private schools

• fuzzy head. like a kiwi. icr if he's meant to be skin tight shaved but my brain went to kiwi straight away regardless

• i just stuck to my own accent for him once i figured out he was irish. which if you must know,,, is a sometimes subtle and sometimes really unsubtle kildare accent. i doubt it's right but it works in my head

can you imagine the shock i felt shaving my head two or three days before my book came in the mail and found out ronan lynch exists. and he's irish too. bro. like mind blown. ok. i see. we are one ig maybe. idk let me read more books and report back.

i am aware there is the graphic novel (!!!) designs and stuff so i'm. waaaaaaaaay off but. let me have this i'm autistic abt these freaks

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue October 15, 1958

Seated left, Anne St. Marie in a brown crepe "femme fatale" dress, deeply slit at the sides, with a small fishtail train. By Howard Greer, in Avisco rayon crepe. Closed "open" shoes by Evins. Standing right, Isabella Albonico wears a loose evening gown of great Renaissance magnificence; high waist, sleeves, loose in the back. Silk brocade woven with metallic threads, floral in green, red, gold, pink, yellow. By Gustave Tassell. Slippers by Andrew Geller.

Assise à gauche, Anne St. Marie dans une robe de "femme fatale" en crêpe marron, profondément fendue sur les côtés, avec une petite traîne en queue de poisson. Par Howard Greer, en crêpe de rayonne Avisco. Chaussures fermées "ouvertes" Evins. Debout à droite, Isabella Albonico porte une robe de soirée ample d'une grande magnificence Renaissance ; taille haute, manches, ample dans le dos. Brocart de soie tissé de fils métalliques, fleuri en vert, rouge, or, rose, jaune. Par Gustave Tassell. Chaussons par Andrew Geller.

Photo Jerry Schatzberg vogue archive

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

You're waiting for a train...(6)

Conscience Makes Cowards of us All

Robert Fischer x reader

description - Arthur is an unwelcome presence in y/n's subconscious.

warnings - SA, implied explicit content, killing/death (in the case of waking up from a dream), Arthur being a dick because his ego is bruised, explicit language.

word count - 1.9k

a/n - More of y/n's past is revealed! Also Arthur is such a dick in this, i'm sorry if you like him but I needed him to be this for the plot!

Previous Part Series Master list Master list

If you want to be added to the taglist - here

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*Arthurs pov*

My eyes shot open. I paced around taking in the expanse of the beautiful hotel lobby. It was decorated to be art deco and the murky dimly lit atmosphere with red and gold accents encapsulated her essence. The silence unnerved me. A mind like hers should be bustling like that of any young adult. Instead, it appeared she’d harnessed her subconscious and molded it to her liking.

My gaze was dragged towards an elevator which loomed at the very end of the seemingly never-ending hallway. I doubted my moves. I was walking into her home. No, it was more personal than that. I was invading her soul. She would hate me after this, and I wouldn’t blame her. The years of trust we’d built up would shatter in the face of my curiousity. But the seconds passing showed my body betraying me.

I entered the gold dusted box and the harsh metal rail dragged in front of me. My hand drifted to the marble buttons that climbed up the panel in front of me. “1, 2, 3.” Standard. My breath caught seeing the numbers decrease even further. What has she buried?

1,2,3. 1,2,3. If this was the girl I knew, she’s been logical and organised by memories; early to present. I pressed 3 without a second thought. It rumbled to life and a creaking industrial might rose me up into her mind.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The cage erupted out to reveal me to the third floor of this apparent hotel. The décor was neat and tidy, and the sage green accents gave it a fresh feel. I exited as I felt drawn into the hall.

Each side was home to bright white doors which held different hotel room numbers. How fitting, a hotel full of rooms and a room for each memory. Each room had an imperceptible buzx radiating behind it. As if the pure thoughts were fizzing in their own creation. But there was one.

‘301’ Burned like fire. I could sense the burst of life behind the door, that I found myself drawing closer. Numbing voices chatted behind the wood. And the shadows of two danced through the cracks of light. I placed my hand near the handle and felt the burning sweetness I associate with y/n’s dream state. She was here. I hesitated. She can’t see me here. Any semblance of relationship with her would be gone. But then I heard something else. A new voice. Mingling with her velvety tones. I grasped the brass handle and ripped it open. There I was greeted with my y/n lying in a bed with our mark.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*your pov*

I jumped away from the projection as the room door was yanked open. I scrambled away amongst the sheets, dragging them up to cover ourselves. Arthur stood stock still in the doorway and the look in his eyes could have brought me to tears right there. His eyes raked over our bedraggled forms, taking in the thin sheets we put a lot of trust in. I sat up on the bed whilst Robert kneeled behind, holding me in his arms. I stroked my fingers over his arms. I felt him tense up. This was my dream, and he was my protector.

Arthur let out a humourless laugh, dripping in spite.

“Why did I expect anything less.” He spat at me, crudely gesturing between the two of us. As the tears welled up in my eyes Robert flicked to the defensive and stalked towards Arthur. In a blind panic, I threw on my red dress, foregoing any shoes.

Arthur moved forward, readying his fists.

“NO!” I shouted, halting the two men.

“Stay out of this!” Arthur snapped. His anger being directed towards me unleashed something in Robert’s projection and he lunged forward.

I slipped in the middle and separated the two brawling men. I shoved Arthur past the door threshold. I then took Roberts face in my hands and stroked my fingers through the hairs at his neck. I cooed at him, calming him down. His fingers curled around my waist, caressing my sides. Arthur looked on at us, betrayed.

When I felt he had been soothed enough and his eyes fell close. I pushed him away and sprinted out the door. When I slammed it shut I felt his body crash into it. Banging repeatedly, begging for me to let him out. I composed myself. My hand still clasped around the handle, my breath the only noise.

Eventually I released and let my body fall back onto the door behind me. I sank into the carpet and my gaze tracked to the ceiling. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Arthur. Couldn’t bear to wallow in his disappointed gaze.

“You have to do that every time?” Arthur finally spoke.

My eyes remained firmly on the door, as if daring it to break. “He can get antsy when I leave.”

“You mean the projection.”

“Of course.” I mumbled sadly.

“I actually can’t believe you!” Arthur laughed out. “You are smarter than this.” I let a few tears drop at his admonishment. “Well, I thought you were.” He said dismissively.

“Woah.” I rose up from the floor. “you wanna say that again, whilst standing here in my own dream, that you are not welcome in.”

“Your lipstick’s smudged.” He brushed my messy lips before I swatted away his teasing hand. He smirked. I slapped him.

“It’s just – he – I don’t know he just – “ I began to lose control of my body and my breaths wouldn’t stop leaving.

“What? WHAT?” Arthur stalked towards me to tower over my face. I could feel the spit leaving his shouts. I burst from my cowering.

“IT WAS SOMETHING NEW.” We remained staring at one another. “I looked at him and it was like everything in here made sense.” I tapped my fingers against my head.

“What made sense? What have you locked in here?” He looked at me so seriously that it was oppressive. I giggled and second guessed my decision as I made it. But I still grabbed his hand and led him back to the elevator. We both entered and I pressed the button.

Gravity fell from beneath us to drag us down into the depths. If Arthur wanted to know then he would.

It clanged as it reached the bottom. I could feel the weight of the air down here. I was suffocating on my own dream. The metal gate opened with a hesitation, willing us not to go further. I stepped out into the murky hallway. My bare feet froze on each step on the concrete floor. Arthur followed hesitantly, unnerved by my own confidence in such an unwelcome place. I hurried my pace until I met the end room. My red dress became the beacon of light for Arthur to follow. My silhouette engulfed by the cracking black paint.

I finally felt Arthur’s presence behind me and so I took out my ring of keys. It held many keys but only one stood out. It was as ornate as it was old, and it’s heaviness weighed down the whole set. I placed it in the door to unlock it for our eyes. The door trudged open with an audible creak. A hotel room was revealed, as was me and another man.

*the memory dream*

“I know who you are,” The man spoke. “And I know why you’re here.”

“I think you must be mistaken.” I tried to sneak past his form but he caught me in his arms.

“No no no. You’re not getting away that easily you little thief.” His dirty hands groped my sides and hiked up my dress. His calloused fingers crunched the skin of my thighs.

As I watched, I felt the movements repeated on my own skin, and all I could do was match the look of terror on my past face.

He got closer to my core and his other hand had found its place tightly holding my boobs. My form panicked and tried to wriggle out of his grip. It was too much; I could feel it too clearly. This was a dream but my pain had never felt so real. I elbowed his stomach and crawled away from him. Before he could consider a new move, I grabbed the gun from my holster and put a bullet through my head.

*back to Arthur and y/n*

Arthur jumped at the sound of the gun whilst I forced my eyes open.

“Killing just wakes you up, but pain is all in the mind.” I stated. “It may have just been a dream but I can still feel it, everyday.” Arthur placed his hand on my shoulder, questioning the move itself.

“That was not your fault.” He announced proudly. I turned in his arms to meet his sympathetic gaze. I giggled.

“That’s not why that memory is here. I shot myself, so I didn’t have to stay and finish the job.” I stalked towards him willing him to hear my words. “I buried my own cowardice.”

Arthur slowly backed away. He’d never seen this look in my eyes before and he couldn’t look at it again.

“Dad needs to know I can do this, more importantly, that I want to do this. My weakness helps neither of us.”

“Y/n, if Cobb had seen that, he would have made you wake up regardless.”

“And never let me come on a mission again, and I would have been alone. Again.” I walked back to the elevator and let my back rest on the cold metal. Arthur still hadn’t moved, his gaze on the dreaded door.

“Everything here is for my own good, and the good of the people I love.” He followed me and closed the gate behind us. “But it’s also mine. So get out.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The time on the dream ticked out, rousing us from our sleep. I ripped out the IV and threw together my stuff, ready to scram. I was halted by Arthur’s arms around me. He dragged me around to face him.

“Y/n listen to me. You’re compromised. You now have too much invested in this job and your judgement will be askew.” He stared me down as he spoke.

“You have no right to question my ability.” I argued.

“After what I just saw, you’re lucky I don’t rip you off this team right now.” He jerked his hands away from me, harshly rubbing my skin as he moved.

I pivoted away and let my feet march me away from him.

“Oh yeah,” He shouted, “What are you gonna do after? Go after Fischer and try and get yourself a cushy number.” I stopped in my tracks.

“No, actually.” I slowly turned back towards his smug face. “I thought I’d go home for the first time in 5 years.”

“Just don’t go meddling about in his mind with your own ideas.”

“Fuck you.” I forced out amongst the tears threatening to leave.

We were broken out when Eames, Saito, Ariadne, Yusuf and my dad entered the warehouse.

“Guys, Maurice Fischer just died 1 hour ago. They’re transporting the body from Sydney to LA tomorrow morning.” My dad announced, but he frowned when he sensed the tension.

“Well, I guess it’s time.” Arthur said, walking over to the others, ignoring my teary face.

I collected myself enough to leave with my dad so we could pack. We were packing to go home.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away

[radiant-reid]

spencer is the king of princess treatment. babe ties your shoes for you (esp during pregnancy) & helps you put on heels, he opens/closes your door and buckles you in, he buys and learns to cook all your favorite food, constant surprises and flowers and definitely jewelry (especially bracelets!! idk why he just is such a bracelet guy). also believe he wears a hair tie or two on his wrist at all times just in case you need one.

Convinced he invented princess treatment. He’s on his knees in seconds if you need your shoes done up and if they unlace while you’re walking, no way is he going to make you bend over and tie them up

I love that the BAU men all hold doors for the ladies, they’re single-handedly proving chivalry isn’t dead. Spencer could have both his hands full and he’s still going to open the door for you, even if he doesn’t like the idea of germs

Very big bracelet energy, he wants you to have lots of nice stuff in gold, silver, and rose gold and he doesn’t cheap out on any of it. No plated metals that are going to rush on your skin

Also whenever you’re tired, he’ll take all your jewelry and makeup off for you so you can sleep, he’s got that skincare routine memorized

And he’s always got your favorite snacks at his apartment and a couple in his satchel because no gf of his is going to be hungry. Food is such a big one for him, like you’re craving McDonald’s fries but they’re 20 minutes away ? Spencer’s in the car without a second thought

There’s very little he wouldn’t do for you

[shaanks]

I wrote something. Lmfao. It was initially just meant to kind of expand on my text post from earlier, but it turned into a little ficlet so I figured I'd share it. Why not, right?

fem!oc x Eustass Kid. sfw, cw: memory loss, unreality. (everything will be tagged in the actual tags section for blacklisting purposes)

word count - 2392

genres: hurt/comfort, horror if you squint, fluff towards the end, modern AU for the aesthetic lmfao.

**

There was a sound like an explosion, the blare of a car horn wailing over screaming metal, the scent of rubber hot and acrid in the air. In the light of the vending machine, Av jumped, whirling around, air catching in her throat only to find—nothing.

The street behind her was empty, devoid of everything but the blinking yellow of a streetlight, and the gentle pattering of rain. The asphalt was pristine, the clean lines slick with rain shone gold in the intermittent light, the sidewalk empty of trash, of age, of anything that might suggest human interaction.

Av craned her neck, head half-turned away from the bright white glow of the machine, looking up at the apartments around her. Neat, identical rows, 10 across, 10 high. All of the windows were darkened, the curtains drawn; each balcony held one or two suggestions of an occupant—a hanging plant here, a chair there, the peek of a bike seat or a laundry line extended across the space, but it was impersonal. Nondescript. A facsimile of habitation, without any indication of personhood, of decision, of individuality.

She looked down, frowning at her shoes, the light of the vending machine ever-present in her periphery. Her sneakers, at least, looked old. Well-worn, if a little plain, the white soles marked with dirt and use. She could see that the shoelaces were wet from the rain, could feel the water soaking through the threadbare canvas, her fingertips grasping at her jacket sleeves in absent concern. That was real. She felt real. Beneath her the ground felt solid, her face felt cool and damp in the slight breeze.

But what had made that sound? Another glance behind her confirmed the space to be empty still, and she hadn’t heard anything else. No voices raised in alarm, no distant car alarms blared to life, jostled by the impact—or what she had assumed must have been one. The night seemed undisturbed, save for the pounding of her heartbeat, just a little too loud in her ears.

Worrying at her lip, she turned back towards the glass display case, eyes flickering along the rows of drinks for sale. Black coffee with sugar, black coffee with no sugar, coffee with cream, with sweet cream. Six different energy drinks, a glass bottle of 7-UP that looked like it was from 30 years ago, and a solitary bottle of unlabeled water.

Surely that sound had been important, hadn’t it? It had been real enough to make her ears ring, to spike adrenaline through her like a live-wire.

Black coffee with sugar, black coffee with no sugar, coffee with cream—

Av frowned deeper, digging around in her pocket for the soft pack of cigarettes and her lighter. She was forgetting something, she knew she was, something that fluttered infuriatingly around the edges of her mind like a disoriented moth. She slotted the cigarette between her lips, the paper filter sticking slightly from the damp, the flame of the lighter momentarily adding a heat and warmth to the night that felt almost alien.

Smoke filled her lungs, hot and acrid like burnt rubber.

Six different energy drinks, a glass bottle of 7-UP that looked like it was from 30 years ago—

Inhale, exhale, plumes of breath and smoke that rose from her lips towards the dreary, impenetrable darkness of the sky above her, towards clouds that roiled thick and heavy with rain and nothing else. Surely, she thought, nothing else, although part of her knew that even when she’d tilted her head up to examine the apartment building, she’d been careful not to look any higher.

The worn rubber of her sneakers tap tap tapped against the sidewalk, making small wet spattering sounds as the movement displaced a puddle, and still she stood, smoking, making no decisions.

‘I should be cold,’ she thought, exhaling again, flicking ashes onto the street in a move that felt almost spiteful against the unnatural perfection upon which she stood. ‘How long have I been out here? What time is it?’

Her body shook a little, though she felt no colder than she had moments ago. She couldn’t bring herself to speak, her voice stopped in her throat—by disuse, perhaps. Or by fear.

The sound of sizzling brought her attention momentarily to the present, as a fat droplet of water fell, extinguishing her cigarette halfway through. Av took it from between her lips and stared at it. It felt...cruel. Intentional, perhaps. Irrationally, she wondered whether the street itself hadn’t responded to the slight bit of ash by extinguishing its source. Something about that wording made her shiver again, and she glanced around for a trash can, somewhere appropriate to throw it away, but of course, the street was devoid of any such thing.

A desire welled up inside her to simply throw it on the ground, to grind the ash and paper and unused tobacco into the sidewalk just to see what would happen...but in the end she thought better of it, and tucked it into her pocket instead. Her clothes would probably stink, but that was okay, she could just hang them out to dry.

Hang them out to dry. Out to dry.

Black coffee with sugar, black coffee with no sugar—

Did she have a clothes line? A balcony? She couldn’t remember for some reason. Had she even locked the door on her way out?

Av glanced around, the bright blue-white of the vending machine blinding in her periphery. Did she live on this street? Had she walked far to get here?

Was one of these nondescript apartments hers?

—the blare of a car horn wailing over screaming metal, six different energy drinks, a glass bottle of 7-UP that looked like it was from 30 years ago—

The sound was deafening, the smell of coffee like cigarette smoke like burned rubber like asphalt like hot metal stinging her nose and she squeezed her eyes shut, tepid fingertips curling into fists over her ears, she wanted to scream, to run, but she couldn’t remember where she lived, where to go, the sky pressed down on the wet asphalt and the white-blue burned out the gold of the street light and the darkness was bright bright bright through her eyelids and—

“You okay?”

Av yelped, her voice tearing free of a throat that felt like musty old paper, as she whipped around towards the sound. The voice.

There was a man standing about ten feet away from her, the campus buildings behind him looking ghostly and pallid in the blue-white of the vending machine light. Av blinked, the ghosts of a car horn, of a flashing yellow light, of melted rubber and blank apartments and a roiling dark sky fading from her mind like a half-remembered dream.

They were at school, she thought, the words wafting over her mind like a cool breeze, like rain. School. University? He was an adult, at least, and she felt like she must be one.

The man had retreated several steps at her startled sound, and he raised his hands slightly in placation before tugging at the straps of his backpack, pulling them tight in a motion that seemed too absent to have been intentional. He was nervous?

‘Most people get nervous when strange women linger by vending machines and scream when you address them, I’d wager,’ she thought, sighing with something between exasperation and relief.

The sound was normal enough to lower the man’s hackles. He was awfully tall, and seemed aware of it, ducking his head slightly and squinting into the light of the vending machines to see her better. Golden-orange eyes flickered in the light like traffic lights, on and off, on and off as he took a tentative step towards her. Calculating, like he was trying to make himself seem less threatening, like he didn’t want to spook her further.

It had been too long since he’d spoken to her, too long that she’d just been staring at him with distant, distracted eyes, but the startled noise had done little to awaken her actual voice. It was an effort, like raising an anchor from the bottom of the sea, to answer him, the words sounding willowy and thin in her ears.

“Ah yeah—sorry. Long day,” Av rasped softly, gesturing around. The big guy grinned a little, droplets of water falling from thick, red hair, and she found herself frowning again.

“Figured,” He said, tilting his head slightly, watching her expression carefully before continuing, “stopped by chem to bring you lunch and they said you didn’t show. S’not like you,” He paused, tilting his head the other way, and she felt her heart begin to race.

She knew him. They had classes together, he was bringing her lunch. Friend? Brother? Boyfriend? She felt her cheeks heat up at that last, glancing over him, and decided perhaps that must be the case. He’d closed the distance at some point when she’d been digging through her memory for clues, and she almost jumped when he smudged a thumb over her cheek, running a raindrop across the blush. Would have jumped, in fact, if the motion hadn’t seemed so tender, so intimately familiar.

“I don’t remember why I’m out here, Kid,” his name fell from her lips without thinking, more muscle memory than conscious thought, that willowy quality of her voice accompanied by embarrassment, by a fear that made her feel small.

He didn’t answer her for a long moment, those strange golden-hued eyes flickering intently over her expression. If he felt anything beyond concern, he gave no indication of it, instead lifting his hand from her cheek to ruffle it through her hair. Eustass Kid was warm. She sighed into the contact. Maybe she had been cold before. Maybe there just hadn’t been enough contrast to notice.

Eustass Kid. Black coffee no sugar. Black coffee with sugar. Black coffee with c—

“Hey hey,” he finally said, pushing her hair back from her forehead, tipping her head up to look at him in the process. The sky behind him loomed, too dark, too thick with clouds, wrong in a way that she couldn’t settle upon.

They were at university. She was taking a chemistry class. This was her boyfriend.

Six different energy drinks, a 7-UP b—

Her eyes settled back on his, her hand moving to grasp at his shirt and she breathed. Breathed.

Kid seemed to mull over his words, rolling them around in his mouth as he tried to find the right order, the right tone. He opened his mouth, thought better of it, closed it again, and then sighed softly, running his thumb over her forehead now, in an arc up into her hair.

“Doc said this was gonna be a shitty day. This time of year’s probably gonna suck for a while.” His voice sounded rough too, she noted, his expression pinching into a grimace around the words he seemed reluctant to say.

A scar, still angry and red and new, dipped jagged over his eye, down onto his cheek, spilling like red paint into her vision. How had she not seen that before? Had it always been there? She raised her hand from his shirt, fingertips ghosting up towards his face. He made no move to stop her, just watched until her hand was close enough to lean into, his skin warm against her palm.

There was a sound like an explosion, the blare of a car horn wailing over screaming metal—

Av’s face crumpled as she stroked her thumb over the scar.

“Because of the accident.” she whispered, her voice soft and wet like pattering rain.

“Yeah,” he kissed her palm. She nodded.

She still couldn’t remember much about the street, about the car that had swerved into them, about the hours and days in the hospital. Just the sound of the car horn, the way the tires had screeched and bled acrid smoke into the night air, the way not one light had turned on in the balconies overhead.

The doctors had said that memory loss was common in cases like this, with head injuries, with sudden traumatic events. The symptoms would fade, she’d been assured. Routines would help. Familiar scenery. A return to normalcy. All these things would speed her recovery. And yet, as with everything else, she still couldn’t quite remember how long they said it would take.

Her therapist had suggested grounding exercises for when she got lost, or her mind began to race, but the only thing she seemed capable of remembering with any consistency was the stupid vending machine outside of the dorms.

Kid followed her gaze to the faded offerings behind the glass, expression twisting into something half amused as he knocked against it with his knuckle, releasing her head to do so.

“S’funny, you’d think they’d restock the fucking thing eventually,” he said, the gravel of his voice low, thoughtful. “Hasn’t had anything in it since we’ve been here except—”

“A solitary bottle of unlabeled water,” Av supplied, grimacing a little at how practiced and robotic it sounded, but Kid just laughed.

“Yeah, that. Couldn’t even spring for some fuckin Dasani,” he muttered, fumbling in his pocket for a second before retrieving his wallet. He fished out a crumpled dollar bill and fed it into the old machine, fighting with it for a moment before it finally accepted the offering. The sound it made when he hit the button was like grinding metal and she tensed at the sound; wordlessly, he pulled her against his large frame, and this time when she breathed there was no hint of burning rubber or wet asphalt. He plucked the water bottle from the basin when the thing finally decided to relinquish it, and pressed it into her hands with a flourish.

“Bone apple teeth,” Kid intoned, grinning as if to show off his, and it was so absurd in that moment that she laughed, breath pluming up towards the sky. His grinned widened, clearly pleased that the joke had landed—relieved to hear the warmth in that sound.

“C’mon,” he squeezed her, turning her away from the blue-white light of the vending machine, towards the comforting darkness of the night. “Let’s go, it’s fuckin freezing out.”

Av, fingers blissfully cool around the water bottle, smiled back. “Yeah.”

**

[magickbarrier]

and her scouting (mainly viper) outfit ✨ breakdown under cut

HEAD: bunny crown (soot black x2) TOP: vanguard bolero of scouting (undyed) GLOVES: claws of the beast (snow white) BOTTOMS: vanguard breeches of scouting (soot black - 1st channel) SHOES: model c-2 tactical longboots (snow white) WEAPON: titanium gold saberfangs (1st channel metallic blue, 2nd channel metallic sky blue) GLASSES: black rose-colored spectacles EARRINGS: wayfarer's earring RINGS: eternity ring && mad bird ring

[iambutmortal]

Watch Me Burn

Chapter 2

Summary: Lucien Vanserra, Godkiller and disgraced prince, is more than content on his own. He doesn't need his family, or his wife, or his former friend. Hasn't needed them in years. But when villages start being attacked by a force he thought he'd destroyed years ago, he's forced back into their company to retrieve the mysterious firebird and save his kingdom from ruin.

Pairing: Elucien

Word Count: 4.6k

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1

Authors Note: For @labellefleur-sauvage for the @acotargiftexchange (we're aiming for dailyish updates here)

Five Years Ago

Jurian was waiting for Lucien in the tavern.

“You look disgusting,” Jurian said, glancing up from where he was tuning his lute. He strummed a chord and frowned, the notes hopelessly out of tune. He kept messing with the pegs, not that it would make any difference. Jurian sounded like a dying animal on a good day.

“You try killing a god,” Lucien said, wiping in vain at the mud splattered across his face with his equally dirty shirtsleeve.

“I’ll leave that to you,” Jurian said, his voice cheerful. He tossed his table napkin and Lucien took it gratefully. “But we’ll eat today.” Because for all Jurian’s efforts, the town they traveled through rarely had enough coins to pay him, much less fund them for longer than a night. When it came to gods, though, suddenly people were willing to cough up the few coins they kept shoved under the loose floorboards.

Lucien dropped the cloth bag onto the table. “More watery soup, exactly what I dream of each night.”

Jurian played a melancholy chord. “Better than starving. And think of the story, two brave heroes, lost in the wilderness, struggling for survival each night. Barely a pot to piss in. Makes us relatable.”

Lucien grunted, turning around to look for the town reeve. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up traveling with the bard, only that one day he’d woke up and the dark haired man had been with him for the second night in a row. And every night since. Jurian seemed impervious to all Lucien’s complaining, taking it in stride. And Lucien put up with his truly horrible musical skills.

He figured they were both better off together than alone.

Instead of the man who’d promised to pay them, Lucien saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye.

Lucien thought his throat was closing in, cutting off his air as he took in the emerald green coat, so unmistakable. Two russet eyes stared back at him, almost a mirror of what his own had looked like only five years ago.

Unconsciously, his hand rose, as if to run down the scars mangling the left side of his face, before Lucien clenched it into a fist in mid air.

“Orrin,” he growled.

“Long time no see, baby brother,” Orrin said, rising elegantly to his feet. The clean, supple leather of his boots was too shiny against the dirt floors of the tavern. A mockery of Lucien’s own mud splattered shoes.

“What the fuck do you want?” Lucien hadn’t seen Orrin, or any of his remaining brothers, since he’d been cast out. And while time seemed to have left Orrin untouched, he couldn’t say it had been as kind to him.

He avoided looking in the mirror now, from seeing the gold metal where his eye should be, the scars surrounding it. But it was more than that, and the hair grown long enough to brush his shoulders, that marked him as different. It was the cold look in his good eye he couldn’t quite chase away, the one that made grown men flinch away from him.

“Do we have a prince in our midst?” Jurian asked, also standing. His voice was jovial, but as he set his lute on the table he carefully positioned his feet in a fighting stance. For all the appearance of a fop Jurian worked so hard to cultivate, his tunics never quite hid the muscles underneath. ‘You’ve got to be able to throw a punch if you want to sleep with other men’s wives,’ he claimed. It was a skill he put to use. Frequently.

Orrin curled his lip. Disgust at the idea a commoner would dare speak to him. “Not willingly.” He turned his direction back to Lucien. “Our father, for reasons known only to him, has required your return home.”

Lucien snorted. “What does the bastard want?” As if Beron would ever want something from him. He’d been the forgotten seventh son for as long as he could remember, noticed only when his father had found some fault he needed to be punished for. While all his older brothers were being called into Beron’s office for lessons on how to run things, Lucien was left with his mother and the ladies, the forgotten child.

In hindsight, it had been a blessing.

“The King,” Orrin said, stressing Beron’s title “has finally found a way to put you to use.”

“Got tired of having me clean up his god problem?”

“Realized petty sword fights with minor nuisances was below even you,” Orrin said. “A pity, since the castle was so much less,” Orrin paused to make sure his next words hit their mark, “scandalous without you in it.”

It took all of the little self control Lucien had been forced to develop as a Godkiller to avoid breaking Orrin’s nose.

“Tell the King that I’ll return as soon as I find it convenient,” Lucien said through gritted teeth. “And that I hope he doesn’t hold dinner for me.”

Orrin took a step forward, in what Lucien assumed was an attempt to appear menacing. Considering Lucien was a good half a head taller, and much, much heavier, the result was more pitiful than anything.

“Better to scamper home now. Wouldn’t want to leave your new bride waiting.”

Orrin didn’t wait for Lucien’s reaction before he was sweeping out of the tavern.

“A bride?” Jurian asked, clearly delighted. “Could you imagine us on the road with a woman in tow. Oh it’ll be the stuff of legends.” He grabbed his lute from the table and strummed a still-out-of-tune chord. “There once was a prince with hair so red, brought his wife on adventures and didn't even need to find a bed.”

“Shut up,” Lucien snapped. He thought he was going to be sick. As if he hadn’t been punished enough, Beron needed to rub salt in the wound one more time. Remind Lucien again that no matter how far he went, he was always under Beron’s thumb.

“Do you think she’ll be pretty?” Jurian continued, undaunted. Because in the stories princesses are always beautiful, but then you see some of them in person and realize the dangers of too much intermarriage.”

“Does it matter?” Lucien asked. “She could be the goddess of beauty herself, and I’d still be chained to her.”

“Princesses have money,” Jurian countered. “And since the bag with the head has disappeared, I’d say our odds are low of getting paid anytime soon.”

Lucien glanced down at the table, where the sack he’d so carelessly thrown down had disappeared. Served him right for getting distracted.

“Fuck,” Lucien muttered, stalking out of the tavern.

“Can Tam carry two?” Jurian asked, following him.

Lucien came to a halt. “You’re not coming.”

“But I could play for the King,” Jurian said, doing what Lucien thought was supposed to be an impression of a pouty face. It looked more like Jurian was constipated.

“Trust me, Beron would rather pluck out your fingernails than hear you play.”

“The Queen then,” Jurian continued undaunted.

Lucien didn’t turn back as he went straight to the stables, grabbing Tamlin’s saddle from the nail he’d hung it on. “My mother’s sense of humor and yours don’t align.”

“Soldiers,” Jurian said, standing in front of Tam like he’d try to stop the horse. “They’ll love me. And then I’ll stop having to spend your coins.”

Lucien quickly strapped the saddle onto the chestnut stallion’s back, and pulled himself up. He nudged the horse forward, and Jurian leapt out of the way, bluff called.

“I’m going to follow you either way,” Jurian said, walking quickly to keep up with Tamlin’s steady trot. They left the stables, and Lucien nudged Tamlin into a slightly faster pace, heading towards Orrin, atop his own mount. Jurian started running. “You can’t avoid me.” He was starting to pant slightly now. “Your brothers will surely appreciate me.”

Lucien sighed, coming to a stop. “Not a word on the way there.”

Jurian made a show of sealing his lips. Lucien reached down a hand and pulled the bard onto the horse behind him.

-

Lucien’s brothers were waiting for him just beyond the castle gate. Or the three remaining ones. The other two, Kiernan and Nihal, had died for one of Beron’s stupid skirmishes against Pelas and Velaris respectively. Sent to the front lines to die for some perceived slight against their father, a reminder to the others of what exactly he was capable of when he got annoyed.

Those left were the ones smart enough to learn how to play Beron’s game. Garven and Callum fanned out from behind their leader. The one who’d taught them all exactly which pieces to move.

“Eris,” Lucien said, bowing his head to the crown prince.

“Father’s waiting for you,” Eris said. His voice was utterly devoid of emotions, nothing but that cold, cruel tone he’d spent a lifetime crafting.

A better reception than Lucien had expected. He swung himself down off Tamlin, Jurian following, and passed the reins to one of the stablehands.

“I’ll be checking on him daily,” Lucien promised, loud enough to make sure his brothers could hear. In case any of them got any ideas about what a few well placed coins could do.

The stableboy bowed his head in acknowledgement. Lucien might not have the respect of his family anymore, but he was still a lord in the servant’s minds. And the long sword strapped to his back served as a very good reminder of exactly what he’d been trained to do.

With that, Lucien squared his shoulders and braced himself to enter the throne room.

Jurian took a step to follow, but Eris held out a hand, lip curling. “Family only. But I’m sure we can find you a nice bunk with the other jesters.”

Jurian looked ready to argue, but Lucien gave a small shake of his head. I warned you. The bard scowled, but let himself be led away behind Tamlin.

Thankfully, no one else tried to follow Lucien into Beron’s throne room. It was the first chamber you entered when you walked through the main door, making it a tactical nightmare, but Beron always thought the message it sent was more important.

I want them to see me the minute they walk past those gates. I want to be the first thing they think of when they think Auden.

As Lucien clenched his hand to stop the slight tremor in his fingers, he couldn’t help but admit that Beron might have a point.

He hadn’t been in that room since the night he was sent to train with the Godkillers, and as he swung open the door he tried to block the memory of blood staining the white marble floors, of the way his screams had echoed against the cavernous ceilings.

Beron was waiting for him on the throne, the picture of grace. The chair itself was carved from a solid oak tree, embedded with hundreds of rubies that glittered in the flickering candlelight, making the chair look like it was on fire. The King sat reclined in it, one leg crossed casually over the other.

At his feet knelt Lucien’s mother, her head bowed, refusing to look at him. Cait Vanserra was even smaller than the last time Lucien had seen her, like she was shrinking in on herself. The long sleeves of her maroon gown covered the bruises Lucien knew were there and skin so pale her veins stood out like an ugly green spiderweb. She fingered a ring around her fourth finger, an ugly black thing made of solid iron. So different than the gold band of twined leaves Beron had given her when they’d married.

Maybe he’d decided she needed one that matched his black heart.

Lucien swallowed down his anger, rooting his feet in place to stop himself from marching up to the King and punching him in the face. Rage licked at him from the inside, a living thing that threatened to consume him.

“I’ve decided,” Beron said, skipping any formalities that would come from seeing his youngest son for the first time in five years, “that it’s time for you to do your duty to the crown and marry.”

As if hunting gods down hadn’t been enough of a duty. 

“Godkillers don’t get married.”

It was the one thing Lucien had taken pleasure in when he’d been forced into training. That one thing he’d had to himself, his wedding vows, would remain forever and always his.

“Eris has done some research,” Beron said, and Lucien balled his hand into a fist. Of course Eris couldn’t leave him to his exile, had to drag him back to be just as miserable as everyone else. “And since the usual limitations don’t apply to you, there seems to be no reason you can’t take a wife.”

Because most Godkillers were sterile, whatever potions they were forced to consume during training to stamp out any emotions they may have left after being subjected to years of brutality and freezing mountains took their ability to sire children. But Lucien, forced to enter the keep at eighteen, had been far too old to be subjected to that particular form of torture. To have his body ripped away from him and made anew.

“Did you ask Azriel for permission?” Lucien asked. The keep leader was a bastard, but he was a bastard who cared about tradition.

“Azriel doesn’t give a flying fuck what happens to little princes,” Beron said, smiling cruelly. Lucien was once again thankful that he took after his mother, so that he’d never have to see that twisted expression on his own face. “He’s more than happy to have you back home, wrapped in blankets and waited on by servants.”

Lucien bit his tongue so hard it bled.

Beron bent forward, picking up the single piece of paper on his throne’s armrest. “Don’t believe me?” He threw the paper at Lucien, and they both watched as it fluttered to the ground.

Lucien bent low to retrieve it, a mockery of the bows of obedience Beron usually ordered. The wax seal, stamped with the image of a sword slicing through a wolf’s head, was already torn open. Lucien recognized the scrawled handwriting of Azriel on it, and quickly scanned the letter.

True to Beron’s word, he’d given permission for Lucien to marry anyone he wished.

Lucien crumpled the note into a ball. “And if I say no? I get up onto the altar and refuse to speak?”

Beron rested a hand on Cait’s head, running his fingers through the auburn hair she shared with all her children. A silent reminder of how much Beron actually controlled. “Then you’ll leave the young lady who came all the way to meet you very disappointed indeed.”

-

Lucien mastered his anger enough to appear for dinner. Although not before smashing half the furniture in his bedroom. It had been left untouched, aside from a layer of dust that coated everything, in the years since he’d last seen it.

He felt ridiculous, dressed in the finery he’d grown unused to. The clothes he’d pulled from the wardrobe were slightly too tight, his shoulders pulling at the seams. He’d been trained in sword fighting, but that was nothing compared to the work he’d done at the keep, and his old clothes weren’t cut to accommodate new muscles.

As he walked into the dining room, he heard the familiar lute strums and slightly off tune singing he’d grown far too familiar with, and had to bite down on his grin. Apparently Jurian had found his way into the castle after all.

The smile faded as he saw the empty seat left open for him at the head table. Right in between his mother, and the woman he could only assume was to be his wife.

He took her in as he approached the table. She was pretty enough, her golden hair plaited back to reveal a heart shaped face and small, button nose. She was staring down at her untouched plate with determination, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

Lucien realized with a start he didn’t even know her name. Beron didn’t think it important enough to share, and Lucien had been too absorbed in his own rage to ask.

He stopped in front of her, clearing his throat. “Lucien Vanserra,” he offered, holding out a hand.

His future wife placed her own hand in his. The skin was surprisingly calloused, nicked with little scrapes. “Elain Archeron.” 

Archeron, daughter of the Lord Archeron of Kouemos then. That explained the plain pink dress she wore, absent of any embroidery he’d expect from a lady. It was well known that Lord Archeron didn’t have two talents to rub together. What he’d done to get his daughter married to a prince, Lucien didn’t know.

Lucien bent down over her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles, glancing up to watch Elain’s expression. She looked away, brown eyes avoiding his, her cheeks flushing.

“A pleasure to meet you in person, Lord Vanserra,” said the man sitting next to her. From the family resemblance, Lucien guessed he was her father.

“Just Lucien,” he corrected, walking around the table to take his seat. That title was just one more thing Beron had taken from him.

Mercifully, Lucien’s wine goblet was already full, and he took a large swig from it as soon as he sat down. Next to him, his mother frowned. Lucien reached under the table to take her hand and squeeze it, hidden by the white tablecloth. She lightly squeezed back, and Lucien turned back to Elain.

“I hope you weren’t kept waiting by my late arrival,” Lucien said.

Elain looked surprised he was actually speaking to her. “Oh no, Lord—Lucien,” she corrected quickly. “It was no trouble to wait, not with the lovely hospitality your family offered.” She looked back down at her plate.

“Is it much different here?” Lucien asked. He’d traveled many places, but Kousemos hadn’t been one of them. It wasn’t worth going where the people were too poor to pay.

Elain’s face seemed to flush more. “Very, but I’m sure I will find this place very enjoyable.”

“Do you have any hobbies? So that I can make sure you find something to do after we are married.”

Elain swallowed, keeping her eyes aimed down at the table. “I like to garden.”

Lucien had to stifle his groan. Of all the hobbies women were permitted to engage in, he found gardening to be one of the most boring. At least embroidery offered gossip, the chance to gather information.

“I’ll have the gardeners clear a plot for you.”

“There’s no need,” Elain said. “I find myself just as well occupied with window boxes.” She gave a self deprecating laugh.

“Elain has a wonderful green thumb,” Lord Archeron added, from further down the table. “Even in the middle of winter she’d have flowers blooming, things you’ve never seen in Auden, thought were only found in storybooks.”

Elain looked like she wanted to sink into the table.

“Then I’ll have an entire garden wing cleared for you,” Lucien said.

“I would hate for anyone to go through any extra trouble on my behalf.”

“I’ll help the gardeners myself,” Lucien swore. Anything to make sure she didn’t feel as trapped as he did.

“Then thank you.”

Lucien waited for her to say something else, ask anything of him, but she stayed silent. He took another sip of wine. He shouldn’t be disappointed, not when most ladies were coached to be silent upon meeting their new husbands, but Lucien couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. Jes would have been demanding, would have barely let him get a word in.

Lucien shook himself. Jes wasn’t here anymore. Hadn’t been since her blood had spilled on the throne room floor.

-

In the two days between that first meeting and the wedding, Lucien found himself avoiding Elain Archeron. He skipped tea with his mother, sure that she would be invited and instead found himself in the training field with the soldiers, working his body until his muscles ached and he was covered with a fine layer of sweat. He avoided dinner too, sneaking into the kitchen to grab bread and hard cheese long after everyone else had gone to bed.

Which meant the next time he saw Elain face to face was the day of his wedding.

She was wearing a dress much finer this time, made of heavy velvet in the maroon color of Auden’s flag. Her hair was woven with small gemstones that glistened in the sunlight streaming in from the high throne room windows.

Lucien focused on the one right above her left ear during the ceremony, staring at it with determination as he knelt on the altar and tried to drown out the sound of the priest. They may have gotten rid of the gods, but some of the old traditions remained.

When told, he slid the plain gold band Beron had given him onto Elain’s finger, before helping her to her feet and brushing a kiss across her lips.

The assembled crowd, eager to see the first of Beron’s sons wed, cheered, and Elain gave him a tentative smile. Lucien tried to meet it, but feared it came off more as a grimace.

He led Elain to the wedding feast prepared by the vastly overworked kitchen staff, but they barely had time to sit down before Beron was ushering them out of the room, towards Lucien’s bedchambers with a wink that sent Lucien’s skin crawling.

Elain seemed just as off put when the door shut behind them, crinkling her nose in disgust as she walked to the bed.

“We don’t have to do this,” Lucien assured her. “There’s plenty of ways to fake a consummation.”

Elain sat down on the bed. “This isn’t my first time,” she said, sliding the shoulder of her gown off. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Lucien’s brow arched in surprise. Maybe Elain Archeron was a little more interesting than he’d first thought.

“Still,” Lucien said, keeping his back pressed against the door. “I prefer my partners willing.”

Elain managed to struggle out of her dress, letting the thick fabric pool at her feet. She wasn’t wearing undergarments underneath, and Lucien got a look at blush pink nipples on small, but pert breasts, and the golden curls coiling below her hips. She spread her legs.

“Consider this willing.”

Lucien figured that was the best he was going to get, and dropped to his knees before her. The first lick of his tongue through her folds took her by surprise, if her choked moan was any indication. Lucien couldn’t help but smirk as he did it again, and then flicked at the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

Elain’s hips lifted off the bed and she gasped out a small moan.

“Good?” Lucien asked.

“Adequate.” The calmness of Elain’s voice would haunt him for days. Lucien knew he was good at sex, or at least the various women he’d slept with over the years seemed to think so. For his wife to be unimpressed was an affront.

Lucien let out a huff of annoyance and returned to his husbandly duties, this time adding a finger, circling her clit while his tongue continued to explore her folds.

Despite Elain’s claims of his adequacy, he had her teetering on the edge in minutes, breath ragged, her breasts rising and falling with each gasp.

He replaced his finger with his mouth, sucking hard on her clit, and that sent Elain over the edge. She fell apart under his tongue while Lucien worked her through her ecstasy, before rising and reaching his hand down to the laces of his pants.

“I’m tired, my lord,” Elain said, slowly closing her legs.

Lucien’s hand froze, and he saw that flicker of challenge in Elain’s eyes. Was he a man of his word or not? 

The use of his once title had his hackles raising, but Lucien only gave her a small bow. “Until the next time then, Lady.”

-

If Lucien thought their wedding night had shown a spark of personality in Elain, he was sorely mistaken. In the weeks after their wedding, interactions were mainly limited to their short, dispassionate couplings.

Once, Elain had even let him pull her into his lap and seat her on his cock. She’d refused to actually assist in the act itself, although he’d managed to make her come twice for the trouble.

On the rare occasion Lucien was forced to see her outside of one of their bedchambers, they exchanged a few brief, utterly polite words, before one of them managed to find someone else to talk to. And over the few dinners Lucien couldn’t find an excuse not to attend, they made banal small talk about the very boring goings on of the castle that made Lucien want to gouge his good eye out.

Really, Lucien would be much happier leaving Elain in the castle while he went off to hunt down another nuisance of a god, but Beron kept him in line with pointed jabs about how excited he was to have an heir in the family line.

It took all of Lucien’s training to keep from laughing in Beron’s face. As if any of his offspring would ever be allowed to sit on the throne.

The only thing that kept Lucien entertained during the drudgery of his days in the castle was counting how many plants Elain could shove in her room. A task he often took to while his cock was inside her.

“You’d think your wife was really something for the amount of time you spent in her chambers,” Jurian said, trailing Lucien one night after dinner. 

Strictly speaking, he still wasn’t allowed in the castle, but the soldiers had all regretfully been charmed by Jurian’s particular brand of bawdy humor, and it’s focus on particular parts of a woman, so they let him in to harass Lucien at all hours of the day with a wink and a nod.

“It’s almost as if you enjoy her company.”

“Sure,” Lucien said, “if you find yourself entertained by the various ways to grow foxgloves.”

“One of my favorite plants,” Jurian said seriously. “There’s a song about it, how a sorceress used its beauty to draw in one of the fae before killing him with the flower’s poison.”

“Fae aren’t real.”

“Says the man who hunts Gods.”

“Oh fuck off,” Lucien groaned, turning down the hall that led to Elain’s rooms.

“At least you get to fuck someone,” Jurian called after him.

“Don’t pretend you don’t have at least three of the maids in your bed,” Lucien said, swinging open Elain’s door.

She very clearly wasn’t expecting him. Elain sat in the middle of the floor wearing nothing but a white nightdress, various books and plants spread about her. Plants that were much more grown then they had been the last time Lucien had seen them, only two nights ago. Unnaturally grown.

Lines on the floor connected the different pots, drawn in something that looked far too similar to blood.

Lucien sniffed. Smelled like blood too.

Elain whipped around, guilt filling her expression.

Lucien slammed the door shut, turning the lock. “You didn’t tell me you were a sorceress, wife.”

[churchobones]

DWC August 2024: Melee

It was well past noon when Hesterlynn finally stirred.

Her head throbbed with each sluggish beat of her heart.  She clutched the icy weight in her chest.

Where am I?

A bed, but not her own.  The room was spartan, almost clinical, devoid of any decoration save an ornate vanity by the window, with curtains drawn shut against the red dusted sunlight of the Eastern Plaguelands.  A silver tray held a cold tea service and a vase bursting with colorful wildflowers: violet dreamfoil, white peacebloom, crimson roses–

Zelion’s instructions had been simple: “You are to offer your assistance to Lord Bloodrose in whatever manner he sees fit.”

Hester willed the Light to the awful ache in her skull, and caught sight of her chipped manicure. Beneath her nails was dirt and shredded skin.

She lifted the dull linen sheets. The fabric of her dress was rife with wood splintered runs and ruined by dirt.  A gorey spill of dried blood ran the length of her ruched bodice.

It was not her own.

She should have never gone to that party.

Lord Bloodrose had dressed outlandishly in ruffles, cogwheels and his workshop goggles.  He requested she wear “something poofy”.  She obliged in the form of a tea-length, robin’s egg frock.  The billowing skirt was made of layer upon layer of airy chiffon.  A demure neckline shrouded her secrets but exposed her pronounced collar bones and milk white shoulders.

The confessor stumbled from the bed, tripping over her ivory shoes.  The right one was missing its low heel; the left had a rusty smudge over the toes.

She lurched to the vanity, gripping the edge of the woodwork as the world swam.   

Her reflection was haggard but whole.  Bruises circled both biceps and wrists like bracelets.  Impossibly long blonde hair, free from its styled ties, fell in haggish curls peppered with wilted white flowers and matted with blood.  Dark circles framed the candlelight glow of her eyes, dimmed and glassy.

She looked monstrous.

The cleric swallowed hard and tore off the damaged dress.

The diamond cut crystal embedded in her chest still slept in its nest of black veins.

Hester was quick to shroud the Mournstone in a cozy sweater; one long and shapeless on her willowy body that fell just above the knees.  As she slid into a borrowed pair of house slippers, she inspected the punctures and tears in her ill-fated dress until her hand fell on a disc of cool metal.

"... As a bit of a thank-you for attending this lousy party with me."

A brooch forged in bronze and plated by gold.  The detailed cast depicted a bouquet of flowers, unpainted, but remarkably detailed-- Plaguebloom, Arthas' Tears and dreamfoil, all with a backdrop of Sungrass stalks. On close inspection, each squared blossom spun as a cogwheel, parting the bouquet like a curtain to reveal a greater detail beneath.

"It's just what I thought of when I thought of you… I hope you like it."

To think that Hesterlynn Mournvalor was naught but a bouquet of pretty flowers was sure to be a mistake, or so Lord Bloodrose must have thought, for behind the bouquet was an intricate knife with a pearl handle and a blade of sharpened steel.

She pinned it to her sweater before bustling out of the bedroom and down the hall on legs still wobbly as a newborn fawn’s.

A saw hummed behind the double doors of his workshop.  Hester sucked a sharp and desperate breath before wrapping her scraped knuckles on the woodwork.

Crash! Metal rang in the air. Lord Bloodrose swore loudly, then swung wide the door.

What a mess! Him, and the workshop too!

Tool chests lay opened, gaping like baby birds. Wires hung from the ceiling, thick black and coiled like snakes hanging from a tree. A mechanosuit stood vigil in the rear, headless and tethered like an ancient effigy reclaimed by vines.

And then Lord Corwin Bloodrose--no, Cory. An ugly bruise painted the bridge of his nose shades of red and violet. A bandage bound the worst of it, acting as a stint and giving padding to the scratched glasses resting gingerly atop.

"Hester!" he greeted, boyishly bright. "Come see this!"

To be continued.

@daily-writing-challenge