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scuttlingcrab · 1 year ago

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Raphael going to a noble party of some kind, disguised as a human, in order to find and schmooze with current and potential clients. While engaging with one such individual who seems particularly taken with him, from across the room he spots Tav, for once not dressed in adventurer's gear but decorated with finery. The Hero of Baldur's Gate is so radiant that, at a glance, one could be forgiven for mistaking the mortal as an angel in disguise. However, like the cambion, Tav also has noble-born partygoers vying for their attention, asking (and more often than not being granted) a dance with the hero, and perhaps gossip of nobles approaching the hero with dowry proposals and attempts at wooing this illustrious guest begin to reach the fiend's ears.

You're the best, thank you so much for sending me this prompt! x

Summary: Raphael attends the annual Baldur's Gate Masquerade Ball and accidentally runs into his little mouse.

Dance with the Devil

(Image via venenum-cadaverinus)

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women and devils merely players.

It was a warm summer’s evening. A gentle breeze came from the sea, as frequent as the lapping waves, temporarily relieving the heavy layer of humidity that hovered in the air. The full moon blazed, illuminating all below it like a spotlight.

The annual masquerade ball had begun, attracting not only the richest, noblest citizens within Baldur’s Gate, but of the entire Sword Coast. They all flocked to Wyrm's Rock Fortress, togged up clad in glittering gowns, spectacular silk suits, and meticulous masks that expertly hid the true identity of every guest.

Per annum, the masquerade highlighted the achievements of Baldur’s Gate, from elections won to cities conquered, and what a year it had been for all mankind. With the narrow defeat of the Elder Brain the city undoubtedly had something magnificent to celebrate. Despite more than half of the city still in ruin, Wyrm's Rock itself littered with holes, and the political climate in bedlam; there was hope. And with hope, lies potential.

Raphael arrived at the ball not in his usual show of sparks and embers, but by modest carriage. He smiled to himself, finding amusement in this mortal way of traversing the planes. These simple minded creatures always had such an imaginative way of thinking. He exited the coach and took a deep breath, absorbing the salty sea air and the multifarious scents of the mortals swimming past him. He had come concealed as a human, but his clothing was nothing but lavish. He couldn’t resort to anything less than that.

He wore a red velvet three-piece tuxedo with a form fitting tailcoat. The colour was bold, yet the details simplistic, he wouldn’t dare distract from the show-stopping piece of his costume: the mask.

Raphael was hidden behind a horned gold leaf mask, the horns replicating the very ones from the Crown of Karsus. He made the mask himself, the artistry immaculate, showcasing Raphael’s pristine attention to detail. The intricate floral designs carved into the mask not only added panache but amplified the aesthetic beauty of the disguise.

A gaggle of women stopped to take in Raphael’s outfit, nodding to him in admiration. He returned their stares with a polite bow, before they moved along, giggling. Raphael’s body increased in warmth, his cheeks flushed with pride.

This was a night of celebration not only for Baldur’s Gate, but for Raphael. Since acquiring the Crown of Karsus, he barely had a moment to himself. There had been no celebrations awaiting him in the House of Hope, no companions to congratulate him on his arduous labour. The very nature of his ambitions subjected Raphael to secrecy and solitude, he was forced only to rely on himself. Naturally, as soon as his hands cradled the Crown, he went straight to work, preparing for the next course of action in his ongoing plans to conquer the Hells. The Crown was just the beginning.

Symphonious music, exuberant laughter, and the electrifying hum of excitement could be heard even from the outskirts of the Fortress. The entire fortification was vibrating, brought to life by the very nature of the ball.

As Raphael showed his invitation to the guards, and passed successfully through the security checks, he bit his tongue to stop himself from prematurely combusting into flames. His chest rattled, as if it might burst open at any second from the thrill of the evening to come.

Raphael made his way through the interior of the fortress, completely anonymous, blending smoothly into the crowd. No room was off limits, he was free to roam where he pleased; to indulge in the festivities, and even prey on guests without suspicion if he felt so inclined.

He soon found himself on the upper floors, walking into the Audience Hall. It had been turned into a ballroom, the hive of the masquerade. A band was comfortably sitting where the throne would’ve been. The walls behind them had yet to be repaired from the blasts that sieged the fortress when the Elder Brain attacked. It quite suited the occasion, bringing in the cool evening air and offering a dramatic view of the oceanfront.

Raphael leaned against a stone wall towards the edge of the room, observing the mortals mingling and twirling. Everyone’s movements were synchronised effortlessly, there wasn’t one person who didn’t belong. He must throw a ball like this in Avernus once Zariel is defeated. Yes, it would be most joyous indeed.

His toes tingled as he watched the gowns swirling, his body attracted to the movements like a moth to a light. As he took a step forward, he was suddenly blocked by a mysterious woman. She wore a tall lace headdress that made it appear as if she was looming over Raphael. Her blue gown hugged her bosom, revealing a little too much to those who happened to sneak a peek or two. Her face was completely obscured by a white porcelain mask, the lips painted red. She bowed to Raphael and he returned the motion.

“I was quite taken by your ensemble.” The woman began, her voice deep and rusty.

“I am most honoured, my lady. “

“It smells of money.” The woman’s eye’s twinkled behind her mask.

Raphael raised an eyebrow, amused at the bluntness of this woman. He couldn’t help but respect the efforts, despite her obstructing his path to the dance floor.

“My accounts are indeed… healthy.” Raphael responded.

“Mmm. And what of your relationship status?

“I am unfortunately married to my work.”

“As they all say...”

The woman began to say something else, but her voice faded as Raphael caught wind of something stirring at the far end of the hall. His ears twitched as the murmurs rose, the distant rumbling growing like a massive wave, enveloping the entire ballroom.

Raphael turned to find the source of the commotion, his eyes immediately falling on heaven incarnate. His mouth fell open as he took in this new creature. He delicately placed his hand on his heart, to make sure it was still beating.

She was stunning, the most beautiful thing he had laid eyes on in this mortal plane; every movement she made was graceful, dignified, and had purpose. Her black strapless gown glittered under the candlelight, showcasing her broad shoulders and pale skin. The train on her gown seemed to levitate as she moved across the room. The mask she donned was made of silver feathers that fanned out towards her forehead. Truly, a celestial in disguise.

“If you will excuse me. It has been most illuminating. May your future be… opulent.”

Raphael dismissed himself with a bow. He was certain he heard the woman tut in disapproval, but he was already in pursuit; halfway across the hall to his new target.

A crowd was forming around the mysterious creature, growing with more eager souls as every second passed. Raphael lingered around the throng, trying to find an opportunity to strike. He edged his way in, closer and closer, his chest expanding, eyes glowing, as he focused his listening. Raphael needed to hear the creature’s voice, which was no doubt as angelic as her appearance.

As he approached the centre, he was bombarded by mundane talk from the vultures circling the creature; dowry proposals and failed attempts at wooing her with what sounded like children’s rhymes. Cheap tricks!

Raphael instead titled his head towards the creature in another attempt to identify her. His nose picked up the delicate scent of cloves and roses. Cloves and roses… he gasped. He searched the creature’s face again and instantly recognised the pale scar on her chin. It was minuscule, but Raphael never missed a detail. Could it be… Tav? The little mouse?

It felt like a lifetime ago since their last encounter when she so valiantly delivered the Crown of Karsus to him. Raphael’s pride and glory, his ascension. Their exchange had been brief, but Raphael would always be eternally grateful.

He often had Tav in his thoughts long after they parted, wondering how she coped; but she soon occupied less of his mind the more fires he had to put out, the more he had to focus on preparations against Zariel’s forces. This evening he would rectify his error.

Raphael beamed as he watched Tav deny one vulture after another. Such confidence, my how she’s grown. His little mouse, so furious, so brave.

Without hesitation, Raphael swept in, lightly tapping Tav on the back. Her skin felt cool against his touch, and he fought against his temptations to leave his hand resting on her shoulder.

“May I have this dance?” Raphael asked.

Tav froze at Raphael's touch, stopping her dialogue with the random mortal. She bowed in an apology to them before turning around to face Raphael. Tav’s nose twitched as she took him in, her eyes slowly lighting up in recognition. Raphael gave Tav a cheeky smile, extending a hand towards her.

There was a pause before Tav nodded, placing her hand upon his. The whispers hushed and silence filled the hall as Raphael guided her to the centre of the ballroom just in time for a new song.

Raphael whirled Tav into his arms as soon as the music began. She fit perfectly against him, like a missing puzzle piece. Tav squeezed his hand as Raphael led and she followed, never missing a beat.

“I almost didn’t recognise you without those tattered blood stained clothes, little mouse. You clean up well.”

“It’s been a long time since anyone called me that, ” Tav said, smiling fondly. “You are a sight for sore eyes. Thank you for rescuing me from those creeps.”

Raphael chuckled.

“And you are a most welcoming sight indeed. Positively ravishing. I never thought I’d see you attending an event such as this.”

“I could say the same of you. Don’t you have more important things to be doing than playing dress up?”

“Ever so perceptive. This evening I am merely here for entertainment, taking note of my stock. It pleases me to see some of my most prestigious, favoured clients doing so well for themselves.”

“Our deal is done.”

“Yes, in truth, but you are an alumni, so to speak. It’s only natural for me to check-in from time to time.”

The dance grew more intimate as they continued. The world around Raphael vanished as he stared into Tav’s eyes. It was just the two of them, how it was always meant to be. Raphael was connected to Tav, their movements fluid as they circled the dance floor. He could feel Tav’s breath on his neck, her breasts pushing against his chest, as he let the rhythms direct their next steps.

“You are a natural.” Raphael said, breaking the stillness.

“Don’t act so surprised.”

“Here I was thinking I knew everything about my favourite client.”

“Surely I won’t be your favourite forever?"

“Some have come close since we last spoke, but you still have top billing.”

Tav's cheeks unexpectedly blushed as she stared at Raphael through the mask, her eyes softening. Raphael stared back at the creature, bemused. He attempted to open his mouth in response, but found he was at a loss for words.

Instead his stomach fluttered, his own skin burned hotter than Avernus, nearly causing him to miss a step. He had to focus, now was not the time to get lost in these emotions, to think about romancing a mortal. It was a sign of weakness.

The music ended and the ballroom erupted into applause. Raphael bowed deeply and upon looking up at Tav, noticed tears in her eyes. Without warning, Tav hugged Raphael, pulling him in close.

“Now, now... this evening is not for tears but for celebration,” Raphael whispered into her ear.

She laughed before releasing Raphael from her embrace. Raphael quickly snapped his fingers, a fresh rose appearing in his hands. He bowed a final time, presenting it to Tav.

“To the hero of Baldur’s Gate!” Raphael roared.

The applause continued, getting louder and louder.

“And to the bearer of my future.” Raphael continued, in another whisper. “I must bid you adieu. Please don’t let me keep you any longer.”

“Thank you again, Raphael. I’ll make sure to pay you a visit.”

“And I’ll always be waiting, little mouse.”

Raphael promptly took his leave, vanishing into the crowd. He paused before exiting the Audience Hall, watching Tav from the shadows. She continued to hold herself high as she welcomed another dance.

Perhaps he would invite her to dinner. After all, it was long overdue.

#writing #bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #baldurs gate 3 raphael #fanfic #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #raphael x reader #raphael x tav #tav x raphael #raphael bg3 x reader #raphael #raphael baldurs gate 3 #fiction prompts #asks #my dream

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circledwithaheart · 29 days ago

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Traffic Light Tag Game 🚦

Tagged by @rewritetheending thank you, beloved 💖

rules: talk about something creative you're working on of any kind. green: what is it about, what excited you about it, what sparked the idea? orange: slow down and share something from it: a photo, a few words, some more background info etc. red: what's the roadblock currently? what is one thing that is a necessary evil in making it?

green: my most favorite (and probably oldest by now?) wip, You're where I wanna go. I haven't talked about her in a while but my god do I have such deep, complicated feelings. After an August 1903 journal entry, the story begins in Philadelphia, Summer of 1902. Buck needs to find a wife to fulfill a legal obligation that will keep Maddie safe and cared for. He strikes a deal with local florist, Lucy Donato, where they form a QPR/Lavender Marriage. The rest of the story delves into the life and love he left behind.

The original spark started with Your Fingerprints Smeared on My Heart (Lead Me Back to You) by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels. I have been (and remain) insane about this fic since I first read it 3 years ago, and always wanted to know what happened in the Years Between. In my constant yapping about it to anybody who would listen, lots of details wove together to form a new story I was ecstatic to tell.

orange: One detail I get super excited about is Buck's journal. Every chapter starts with a relevant snippet of an entry. The journal itself is a gift from Lucy. As much as Buck says he wants to push the past away and forget it, she thinks it's all the more important that he record his thoughts and process the longstanding grief that won't let him go. Fun fact: the original fic was going to be completely epistolary style, made up of only the journal entries.

Without giving a ton away, I am more in love with Buck & Lucy's relationship than I ever planned to be. Their support for each other is as authentic and deep as any "real" marriage. Probably more than.

She helps him through nightmares, through navigating his life now, honoring the life he so desperately wanted without believing he has to let it go completely. What to do when a real second chance at that life arrives, literally, at their front door.

He supports her in being an independent woman in the world with her business, and in general. He's her top cheerleader when she wants to passably navigate certain parts of her life as a man.

And one of my most treasured snippets (so far) because I am apparently throwing all of the things out today:

Buck’s two favorite features were access to the observation car and the ability to talk to the conductor any time he wanted. His brain always seemed to be buzzing with an endless stream of questions about the engine and its parts. How could anyone not be fascinated by the enormous wheels, gears, and pistons and what made them run? But then, inevitably, the nights came and darkness washed over everything. The crew became more scarce and, like he often was at home, Buck couldn’t sleep. He found himself drawn to the grand glass panes of the observation car that afforded a spectacular view for miles in every direction. While the daytime scenery was noteworthy, he preferred the cover of night. The inability to distinguish small nameless towns among the rolling fields of wheat and grass. At most he could see stars dotting the inky expanse as they sparkled and shone alongside the moon, appearing as a silvery sliver that might be plucked from the sky if only he tried hard enough. To anyone else, what he saw was practically worthless. But to him it was the reprieve he so desperately craved, as much there as any other setting. Because in the absence of light and detail, of giddy chatter from another pair of newlyweds that are sickeningly in love, there weren’t cabins and houses that might have been home. No bright mornings spent chasing until he was inevitably caught and rolled in the dirt, being rewarded with laughter and kisses. No afternoons in the shade of the giant oak, or on the porch if it was raining, listening to the soothing cadence of devastatingly pretty words from a book of poems. No evenings watching the sun set before falling into bed himself, wrapped in the kind of love only found in fairytales. Another missing aspect were Lucy’s meaningful, almost knowing glances. Like she could somehow read his memories and complete the mystery of his past. If it’s possible she could do that, she would see all the pieces he can’t bring himself to share and isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to. There would be flashbacks of a younger, more naïve Evan Buckley; images of him boarding a different train, believing he was ready to discover who he is. Some days he wonders, if he could go back in time, if he would step off that same Philadelphia platform to see where it led. Would he willingly go, knowing he would be permanently altered and reconfigured in both the best and worst possible ways. Ultimately it’s a fool’s errand. The answer, of course, is always yes.

red: the roadblock? Yes it's a Buddie wip but I waffle back and forth about whether I'd like to make it an original work instead. And then I get in my head about the accuracy of certain details and if it could stand on its own without getting ripped to shreds. (And as the wife of someone deeply interested in history, that would be embarrassing af)

the necessary evil? in order to read it, I have to write it (shocking, I know). I have other WIPs, digitally rotting in folders, that I could justify letting go. Not this one. It's too important and lives in my heart 24/7.

np tagging @diazsdimples @daffi-990 @bidisasterevankinard @stereopticons @this-is-bwr @bi-buckrights @your-catfish-friend @lemonzestywrites @dr-shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @elvensorceress @spotsandsocks @wildlife4life @thekristen999 @tizniz @bekkachaos @thelikesofus @toxicpositivitybuddie @saintbobbynash @lavenderleahy @herrmannhalsteadproduction @honestlydarkprincess @theotherbuckley @midsummersmorn @kitteneddiediaz @wikiangela @steadfastsaturnsrings @giddyupbuck @beyourownanchor6 @eowon @bucksbignaturals @lovetommyactually @hyperfocusthusly @loucifersbitch @lavenderleahy @acesartemis and anyone else who wants to (or that I forgot) 😘

#i got uh wordy #your honor i miss them terribly #why yes i *am* perpetually in my separated lovers era #thanks for noticing 😌#buddie #buddie wip #evan buck buckley #lucy donato #qpr #fic: you’re where i wanna go #if you've read this far please know that i love you #if not i understand completely

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narliearchive · 2 months ago

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Desperate by Idril [E]

It’s not really jealousy, he thinks. He isn’t jealous that Ben got there first. It’s nothing like that. It’s the fact that Ben didn’t care, doesn’t care, about all the precious things Charlie gave him. Ben took and took from Charlie and gave nothing in return. The thought of him using Charlie, especially like that. It makes him sick. It makes him possessive. It makes him want to fall to his knees and offer himself completely. It makes him take off his jumper and hand it to Charlie just to see his smile. An exploration of how Nick and Charlie's relationship might have changed if they explored sex earlier and deeper.

future mother-in-law things by elyseregan [M]

Maybe he’d witness her finally reach level 532 on Candy Crush and celebrate with her over a chocolate digestive. Maybe he’d carry on dipping biscuits into cups of tea and seeing whose disintegrated first for the next year. Maybe he’d share sly smiles and winks at Nick’s expense with the woman sporting a brown bob into the summer months, possibly even beyond. A look into Charlie & Sarah's relationship over the years.

It's All or Nothing by tinyarmedtrex [E]

"Married at first sight is the first social experiment of its kind, using in depth research and expert opinions to match together eight singles. Those lucky participants will meet and get married on the spot. They then have eight weeks until decision day where they'll make the biggest decision of their lives- will they stay married or get a divorce?" When Nick heard that the infamous show was having its first queer season, he hadn't planned to apply. But after giving it time he decided to give it a shot. After all, he hadn't had any luck on his own, so what was the harm? Then he found out that he was one of the eight chosen to be on the show. Which mean that in a few short days he was going to be married to someone he would meet at the altar. The wedding was only the first step. Never could Nick have predicted all the highs and lows that would come from being married to a stranger. And, after eight short weeks both have a decision to make. Do they want to stay married or get a divorce?

Lavender Fields by scienceisrealyo [E]

31 year old Nick Nelson retired from professional rugby and is giving Sarah Nelson a well-deserved year off from running Lavender Fields Bed and Breakfast. And Nick’s doing fine, thank you very much. Until the guest name C. Spring changes everything. Note: 1-31 are the original story (Nick's point of view). Chapters 32 - 60 are from when Charlie bullied me into providing his perspective, too.

Narlie Waves by waveofyou [E]

A Heartstopper California AU where Nick (31) and the HS crew we know and love live in SoCal. Charlie (29) leaves his London office to work in San Diego for a year. Nellie makes a new puppy bestie. Nick is adorable teaching little first graders. Charlie looks hot playing the drums. Nick looks hot surfing. They…ahem…enjoy Nick’s pool…and shower…and balcony. The boys weirdly get snowed in at one point. In Southern California, go figure. Nick helps Charlie see that he's deserving of big, loud love from a certain golden retriever person. Charlie helps Nick to trust that his love is not conditional, that he's safe to fully express himself. A leaves falling, flower petals swirling story of queer love with a spectacular ocean view 🍂🌊🍂 ⚠️ This is NOT a slow burn. They feel the spark, follow it and make fire Any explicit sections are denoted with “🍂🔥🍂” Any triggering flashback, panic attack or detailed eating disorder moments with “🍂⚠️🍂” …so they can be skipped and the story still enjoyed- I’ve written it so no major plot is lost by skipping these sections 🫶🏻 Alternates between Charlie and Nick POV ♥️

#Desperate #Idril #future mother-in-law things #elyseregan #It's All or Nothing #tinyarmedtrex #Lavender Fields #scienceisrealyo #Narlie Waves #waveofyou #collections #heartstopper #nick and charlie

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pocket-vvardvark · 5 months ago

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WIP whenever

Sorry I was dead for most of this week lmao 😭! Finishing for Christmas break has me scrambling away to turn shit in. Anyways!! I've got some Verandis stuff to share >:) this was supposed to be smut, but Verandis kept cockblocking me 😩 also I just have no idea how to write him tbh lol.

This isn't smut, but there ARE things written that are sexual in nature/allude to sex! So, just a warning!! Be safe <3

Always on the move, Angelica refused to settle down. Imagining the shock of her sister’s expressions left her stifling a chuckle between a pale palm. The novelty of mercenary work left her bored, and she was sure the affairs back home were twice as boring. No, Angelica needed a breath of fresh air; somewhere she could work at leisure with a side of temptation. Temptation being the throes of pleasure. Men or women, it mattered not, as long as it was rough.

Passing through the crowd, she recalls her latest tryst with an older mer. Shivers prick her skin with gooseflesh, a similar reaction coaxed from her body when the riding crop cracked across her bare skin. Blood rushes to her nethers, eliciting a huff at her predicament. So long ago had that elf managed to cloud her vision with stars, it had her itching for more. Nearing the man who held the deed to her newly bought house, Angelica smiles pleasantly.

“Morning, dear.” Charming others was second nature, even when it was unnecessary.

“Good morning, ma'am. I've got the deed for you, right here.” A freshly made scrap of parchment is pressed into her hands. Quickly swiping her eyes over its contents, she plops the gold pouch onto the counter when satisfied.

“Deal. No need to send anyone with me; I know the way.” Flashing another award-winning smile, she bids the Breton farewell with a sneaky kiss on the cheek. His surprised but pleased expression leaves her needy, so she blows a kiss before turning tail.

Walking through the crowd was far slower this time. Summer in Rivenspire was grueling. It was always dry, but now it’s even more so. The ground nearly rivaled that of a desert; soil cracked and lacking any ounce of moisture. Making a disgusted expression to herself, she continues on her way. The little hamlet she bought is just beyond the horizon, and little sparks of excitement well inside her. Excitement of another kind drifts through her mind. Buying property was spectacular in its own right, but that's not entirely what raised the corners of her lips. It had the perfect layout she so meticulously searched for, right beside House Ravenwatch. No one dared to set foot in the surrounding village, which was abandoned and run-down at this point. Some blood fiends stalked the area still, but what was a little danger? She looked through a lens with her string of positive thoughts. A lens of lust, she thinks, as her grin grows ever wider. House Ravenwatch was among the most dedicated researchers and investigators she’d ever known. Each member had a good heart; even if not formally introduced, her sister had told her that much. Their leader—Count Verandis Ravenwatch—was unaware of her existence. Ever the mischievous one, Angelica intended to keep it this way until she had to give up her identity. Keeping possible trysts lost in the dark of the bottomless pit that is her nature is something she’s always kept spotless. Only the best of herself was shown, and the rest needn't be spoken on. After all, no one bedded her for conversation; it was business. Delightful business, but only there to satiate her desires. Methodical in her ways, Angelica twisted things purposefully to match her narrative. Perhaps it was manipulative, but peace was a far better option than bloodshed in any matter. Angelica stands before the modest shack. It lacked in some areas, cracked, and a little more than rugged across its exterior, but it would be worth it. She would make sure of that.

Setting up shop would come after cleaning; she couldn't do with any more cobwebs after shimmying her way through them past the doorway. Divines, no wonder she got such a strange stare from the Breton who sold her this place. It was decrepit.

Working hastily, Angelica works a wet rag against a particularly stubborn stain on the floor. The pattern continued for nearly the entire day—scrubbing, washing, rinsing, and drying. Her arms ached with how much pressure she fought the grime with. Angelica stands, wiping sweat from her brow as she searches for any more grimy areas. Basking in sweet silence, she leans back against the bar. Surprisingly, the air was beginning to settle—a sign of night approaching. She moves, ending the deafening silence by her boots scraping against hardwood. Admiring her handiwork, Angelica tosses the rag into a nearby bucket she procured from storage. It plops heavily into stale water, kicking up a few droplets. Finally, she could start setting up a workstation and fill the bookshelves with tomes. With a smile, she summons a few undead from the earth. A cheap imitation of what they once were, the skeletons chatter after her commands.

“Over here, bring that tome this way, darling.” Gentle chattering and hisses fill the small abode as her summonings get to work. Sitting with one thigh over the other, Angelica watches with tired amusement. Not unlike marionettes, the skeletons hobble to and fro with haste, carrying alchemy ingredients and tomes alike. One stops near her, appearing to regard her for a moment.

“Yes?” She inquires softly, watching the hollowed sockets for a pinprick of light in acknowledgement.

With a mild-mannered bow, it bends its head downward in request. Fond laughter slips past her lips, and she has to stifle her guffaws once the skeleton inches its head only slightly upwards. The pinpricks of light narrow in its sockets, as if it's offended by her laughter.

“Oh, I didn't mean anything by it, my sweet.” She strokes the smooth, cold cranium of what was once covered in hair.

“I suppose we all crave love, hm? Even in the afterlife?” A hiss of what she assumes is agreement leaves the gaps between chattering teeth as the skeleton slumps against her hand.

The squeaking of bone against bone had become a calming sound for her. During dark hours, sometimes her research could only be fulfilled with these lovely undead by her side. Long-lost relatives, or simply those who left Nirn with unfinished business, she only raised those who allowed it. She could feel it—the bond between necromancer and undead. If you were considerate of what the dead wanted and listened with a keen ear, one could understand them. Some were young, strong, old, happy, or sad. Every spirit had unique desires, and some were even kind enough to tell her stories about mundane happenings that transpired when they walked Nirn. It was nice to not always be alone. Together, she would carry these spirits with her as long as she did good—just as she promised them.

A sharp knock brings her back to reality, accidentally knocking into an undead companion in front of her. Unfortunately, recently undead lack coordination, and it sends the poor fellow’s skull rolling further than she can catch. The door opens, and a boot stops the skull’s descent.

“Ah, my apologies if I startled you.” A smooth voice utters, strained as they bend to pick the skull up. Her gaze follows them upwards until she recognizes his face.

A strange color—rich and sunset-hued like any Altmer, but she could have sworn he was a vampire. She smiles sardonically once the illusion disperses, finding it hilarious this man believes she’s caught by a cheap parlor trick.

Wordlessly prying the skull from his cold digits, she fits it back onto her companion with a smile.

“Better?” She coos as if speaking to a child who just sustained a bruise. The skeleton bobs stiffly, exuding a faint touch of gratitude.

“You may rest.” She turns, facing squeaking bones, “All of you, get some rest. You did well, my loves.” She praises with a soft smile before snapping.

Faster than either can blink, skull and bones are whisked away by magic. Nothing could provide evidence that there were once skeletons ambling around her house, laboring to put her things away.

“A necromancer, I assume?” There’s something in his voice that suggests a distaste for her vocation. Although that was to be expected, necromancers are usually met with pitchforks and torches. She chuckles at the irony—between his condition and her profession—either of them could be met with that sort of doom.

Turning on her heel, she angles him with a coquettish smile, fingers sweetly linked in front of her.

“I don’t recall inviting you in.”

There’s a beat of silence between them, and the man appears bewildered with a twitch of his lips. Angelica reassumes her facade, busying herself once more with settling in. She grabs any strewn alchemy ingredients and files them back into their rightful jars.

“Apologies, but…I sensed a peculiar amount of magicka and decided to investigate.”

Thin brows raise in mock interest, “Ah, did you, now?”

Courteously closing the door, he steps forward with his hands neatly folded behind him.

“I do hope you aren't planning anything nefarious. Rivenspire has had enough dealings with necromancers for a good, long while, I think.”

Fitting a tome in place, she doesn't turn to face him.

“Ironic, isn't it? That someone like you would be afraid of a necromancer.” Confusion overtakes his wary expression, mouth subtly pulled in a neutral line.

“And what exactly is someone like me?”

She shakes her head with a chuckle. “A vampire.”

Every person he’d met had been so easily fooled by his illusion. As a necromancer, she already possessed some measure of ability with magicka, but it cannot be of a dubious quality if she can see through his disguise so easily. He was ancient even by Altmer standards and had a much better grasp of magic than any younger man or Mer. The woman standing before him—grinning proudly—clearly knew more than she was leading him to believe.

“I would refute that claim, but I have this distinct feeling you aren't bluffing.” Tilting his head, he regards her with the utmost interest.

“Mm, very smart of you!” She exclaims with mock praise, craning her head with a playful squint.

“Go on, then… shed that pitiful disguise.” Her eyes darken. “I want to see those crimson eyes of yours. I hear the women go mad with want for them.”

Off it goes, peeling from his body like a second skin. The illusion fades, leaving only pale flesh, tired eyes, and beautifully carmine orbs. Gods, were they beautiful. Any woman would have spread for a sight like that.

Whistling, she smirks, “Well, well, well…look at the eyes on you. Smoldering. I like it.”

“Smoldering? I’d expect any response but your own, I'm afraid.”

With a roll of her eyes and a shrug of her shoulders, she resumes working.

“The name’s Angelica, by the way.”

Walking forward, he pulls a tome from a bulging leather sack to slide into the bookcase in front of her.

“Count Verandis Ravenwatch.” His hand pauses when it brushes against her knuckle. It was as if a fire raged beneath her veins—she was so delectably warm. A heat he hasn’t felt in some time slowly creeps into his own flesh.

A tome is balanced against her forefinger as she slows her ministrations to scrutinize him instead. He watches as her silver eyes rove along his face, stopping briefly upon his neck, jaw, and nose. Slowly, they guide upwards to meet his own look of quiet contemplation.

Sliding the tome in, she lifts the same hand to his cheek.

She watches as his lashes flutter against her touch—nearly flinching against her smooth pads, which touch him with reverence.

The words she whispers are so quiet, yet he can hear the taint of something passionate behind them.

“Are you afraid of me, Count?”

Blinking, Verandis raises his own hand to cover hers. Caught in the tide that is her soul, the count finds himself drowning in the very depths of her longing stare.

Feeling the same longing in his chest begin to swirl from the deepest parts of him leaves Verandis perplexed. How could this woman rouse the hunger he so meticulously held down? Not even her blood was safe, he muses, as his eyes flicker to her jugular. The sweet, heady scent of liquid sustenance sings to him the finest melody. Divines, he’s losing himself so readily to a woman he only just met.

“...Forgive me.” Jerking away, Verandis stands abruptly, masking his growing desire with a shake of his robe.

Offering what she thinks is a comforting smile, Angelica drapes herself across the bar.

“Oh, don’t apologize, handsome. It’s not you, you know.”

Swaying the knee upon her crossed thighs, she procures a quaint vial full of mysterious liquid. Giving it a derisive shake, she winks.

“It’s this.” Upon further inspection, the color is reminiscent of blood, but the mystery liquid exudes such a powerful pull he’s never felt from any living being’s ichor before. It sloshes around almost like oil—viscous and heavy—unlike anything he’s ever seen.

Sighing heavily, Verandis stares pointedly. “I’ll ask again, then. What are your plans for Rivenspire?" No longer in a questioning mood, Verandis’ voice is tempered with the slightest bit of irritation.

Maintaining eye contact, Angelica pushes herself off of the leather-skinned seat beneath her shapely rear. She walks forward, heeled boots clicking faintly across wood. A wild card, her actions are far from predictable, as Angelica offers a tender touch across the count’s tense bicep. Caressing his robed arm, she offers insight into her motives.

“Don’t worry, Count, I’m not that type. I’m perfectly harmless, I swear.” Again, her words are so sweet—carefully crafted to lull him into a false sense of security. Delighted by his cautious reaction, she continues to swipe her thumb further along the expanse of his shoulder.

“I’m an alchemist and translator for the mages guild. Vampirism is a…rather interesting condition, so I decided to settle down here.” Skimming past the real reason—orchestrating a little rendezvous with herself and the count—she answers as truthfully as she can.

Their eyes meet again with an intoxicating amount of heat that nearly knocks the breath from her lungs. Excitement and temptation were the true reasons for buying this sorry excuse of a house on the outskirts of Crestshade. Tempted by the agonizing thrum of her beating heart beneath her skin, Verandis almost envisions his fangs sinking into the delicate slope of her neck. Unbidden thoughts of what type of moan she would elicit have him stepping backwards, prying her hand off his shoulder.

“Oh, Count.” She coos, brows upturned in faux concern. “I’m offering respite, darling.”

“Respite? In the form of…what, exactly?” Inquiring was probably foolish, but Verandis needed to know what this gregarious little thing was up to.

Swallowing carefully after suddenly downing the contents of the vial, she answers.

“I have the key to curing the nasty side effect you call restraint of your charming little curse.”

Crossing his arms, Verandis eyes her warily, “Even if that were the case, our souls are bound for Coldharbour. Curing any number of our ilk would agitate Molag Bal. Surely, as a necromancer, you understand how terribly risky meddling with the prince of brutality would be.

“Yes, yes, that’s but a snag in the seam.” She teases before offering honest consolation. “Look, Verandis…I truly am offering a light within the darkness. Overwhelming forces are around us nearly every waking moment—a few souls no longer tethered to Coldharbour will be the least of that overgrown imp’s worries.”

Her caricature of Molag Bal draws a chuckle out of him. “I’m sure the logistics of such delicate research are far greater than what you’re willing to tell me.” Angelica leans forward with an eager expression, forcing him to continue with what he will most likely regret.

“I do hope this is out of the goodness of your heart, Angelica. But, I suppose another alchemist and translator on the Ravenwatch’s side would be rather beneficial.”

Deciding now is probably an opportune time to leave before she can tempt him any closer, Verandis bids her farewell. Showing her teeth, she offers a flirty, little wave and a kiss.

“Bye, handsome.”

It would be too soon the next time their paths crossed.

#ok ya this is long asf sorry guys #lol idk how to write him!!#also vampirism?? does molag bal know if u get cured? does he care?? i dunnooo #missing gaps in lore im sorryyyy 😭#verandis whyyy you guys were supposed to have sex why did u run away bro?? shes only slightly insane

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minthandsoap · 1 year ago

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꧁•⊹٭𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝙸'𝚖 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕٭⊹•꧂

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐈 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

618 words

Their initial meeting wasn’t anything spectacular. Their paths first crossed on a worn park bench, bathed in the soft glow of a summer evening. Marie sat alone, listening to music and enjoying the heat from the sun. Jordan had sat down on the opposite side of the bench, tired from their evening jog. They sat in comfortable silence, unperturbed by the other until Marie glanced over, a small radiant smile breaking the ice. A whispered "hi" from her lips was all it took to spark their connection. Their connection felt preordained, a gravity pulling them together under the same vast sky.

For days, they followed an unspoken ritual. Marie, a beacon of light with her music, arrived first at the bench. As if on a timer, Jordan would appear five minutes later, flushed from their jog. And those days quickly melted into weeks, and they’d sit on that worn bench, filling the air with laughter shared under the midday sun and stolen moments whispered beneath the soft luminescence of the moon. They shared their first kiss on that bench, a beautiful moment that was tainted the moment Marie confessed that she was only here for the summer visiting her sister, leaving in a month’s time. Despite her unwavering optimism that distance wouldn't matter, Jordan, the realist, saw the divergent paths their dreams carved before them.

The inevitable arrived, a bittersweet goodbye on their familiar bench. Tears streamed down Marie's face as she promised daily calls between desperate kisses. The car ride to the airport was silent and their final hug and kiss almost shattered them. Jordan watched her leave, a fading smile masking the unsaid desires and unspoken words that weighed heavily on their chest.

Years passed, filled with stolen moments across phone screens and late-night calls that only intensified the ache of separation. Marie, would go on to be a doctor at her city’s hospital and Jordan a promising professor, both finding success in their respective Yet, a piece of each of them remained tethered to that worn park bench, a silent plea for a different fate.

Then one day, their schedules aligned and for one weekend they’d planned to meet again. Marie arrived at the familiar park, listening to the same music like all those years ago, the bench weathered but still strong. Soon came Jordan, their face etched with a mixture of years and an emotion they couldn't hide. The world faded away, leaving only them, bathed in the darkening of the sky. Their eyes met, a silent conversation brimming with unspoken love, loss, and the cruel hand of fate. The air crackled with unspoken words, a lifetime of longing hanging heavy.

For hours they sat, catching up in ways a phone call never could, reminiscing over old memories and creating new. As the final sliver of sun yielded to complete darkness, they reached for each other, a bittersweet embrace under the watchful eye of the moon. It was a stolen moment, a fleeting kiss under a darkened sky, a testament to a love that defied the constraints of time and distance, yet remained forever out of reach.

When the sun finally returned in the early signs of the morning, painting the sky in a beautiful orange, the same bittersweet feelings came again. They knew they only had this weekend until they had to separate once more, because she was the sun and they the moon, destined to chase each other across the vast expanse of their lives. But also like the sun and moon, they are blessed with a rare opportunity to meet again even if only for a fleeting moment. And that moment is so magnificent, that the world has to stop and bask in its glory.

whoop wrote something! giving myself a calm pat on my back.

#gen v #limoreau #marie moreau #jordan li #jordan li x marie moreau #mariejordan #marie moreau x jordan li

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aevumisles · 1 year ago

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╰┈➤ AEVUM ISLES :: JUNE FESTIVAL ❂

Throughout the beginning of the summer season, Isle residents gather in multitudes during the day and the night to celebrate the natural world and the communities that share in it. Many traditions find the Aercon and Echoes alike visiting the sandy shores of the Lunar Coast, cleaning up the environment, and showing goodwill to their neighbors with plenty of gifts. Please refer to the ARCANUS ISLE COMPENDIUM for creature and plant references.

OVERVIEW.

The Sunflower Festival

The Sunflower Festival is a month long event taking place from the beginning to the end of June. While the festivities do not last for the entirety of the summer season, residents of Arcanus Isle take great care to enjoy the warmer weather.

Festivities take place during the night and the day. In the daytime, events like the Sunflower Parade or the Lunar Tournament can be enjoyed in the Lunar Coast and Downtown Arcanus Districts.

During the early evening, the celebrations continue with bright fireworks that light up the night sky.

The Solstice Ball

Takes place during the 16th - 30th of June.

The festival concludes with The Solstice Ball, a spectacular event where everyone dresses in their best to dance under the glorious Golden Moon. (see: Notable Legends down below.)

This year, residents will also partake in the grand reveal of a new location: the Viderenox Observatory.

ACTIVITIES:

NOTE: Other activities such as sea shell collecting, beach parties, garden parties and so on are all celebrated during the Sunflower Festival. While you may create member-run mini parties and events during the festival, only interactions with the listed activities/areas will be considered valid forms of festival participation.

For a limited time, a number of Sunflower Festival wares can be purchased (for free!) from the Aevum Marketplace using the Sunflower Festival Voucher.

Some of these wares include:

Shimmer and Glows Sprinkler - (available only with participation in Nighttime Shimmers and Glows.) An endless sprinkler that sparks and changes color! They are also non-flammable. Lunar Rod - (available only with participation in the Lunar Tournament.) A gold-flaked fishing rod with a special tackle that is highly attractive to the local aevum fish. Fish Charm - (available only with participation in Fish Spy) a small charm in the shape of any fish, made from stones, shells, or wood. Olympic Flag - (available only with participation in the Aevum Olympics) A one-of-a-kind flag with the icon of the sport participated in. Garden Bracelet (available only with participation in Charms of the Garden Activity) A custom bracelet made with several unique charms and beads of flowers. Keepers of the Land, Sky, and Sea Shirt (available only with participation in the KLSS) A cool, breathable t-shirt displaying the logo of the volunteer organization. Homeworld Wares (available only with participation in the Gateway Flea Market) These items are custom to each Echo, and are subject to the rules detailed in the event below.

Requests will be processed from June 22nd - May 3rd. All requests should include a link to the thread or drabble that shows the participation in said event, in addition to the stats, and thread pages.

Downtown Arcanus.

Sunflower Parade

One of the many highlights of the Sunflower Festival is the Sunflower Parade! It is a warm welcome to the summer sun and the influx of Ivurie Aether that comes with it. Downtown Arcanus will be decorated with balloons, sunflower petals, and more. Music will be heard during the day throughout the streets. Especially along the Arcanus University campus.

During the cooler hours of the late afternoon and early evening, a float parade is conducted by residents who choose to participate. These floats range from large and small, elaborate and simple.

Notably, the East Tower Company and the West Tower Society are known to be highly competitive during the parade. Each year, they create more and more elaborate floats each year. The not-so-rumour has it that they may even be trying to outdo each other.... While the other rumour has it that they've even gone so far as to try and sabotage each other's floats!

While many floats are crafted by the various notable figures and local businesses of Arcanus Isle (Echoes will find a representation of almost every Aercon-owned business!), the Echoes are equally encouraged to create floats of their own for the parade. Or join in other floats to assist their performances (or sabotage other performances) in an effort to join in the celebration!

Announcing the event on her very own float is is Arcanus’ own Opal Luminous, where you can watch the parade from your home.

Charms of the Garden

This activity is eligible for festival redemption.

A favorite activity amongst festival-goers is to create unique garden bracelet for their friends and family members. There are dozens of different ornaments to choose from, each with their own meaning. All ornaments for Charms of the Garden are created by students at Arcanus University, and the proceeds return to the school's funding.

The charms provided are as follows:

Echo Tree Nut ( peace in change )

Field Fish Feather ( brings good people into your life )

Sapeng Wool ( aid with memories )

Moonview Spring Stones ( rejuvenation )

Lunar Coast Shells ( wealth in the summer )

Heavens Mirror Bead ( mourning lost loved ones )

May Flower Bead ( protection )

Zephyr Lilly Bead ( guidance in dark times )

Orb Flower Bead ( good wishes )

Sunflower Bead ( happiness )

Aether Rose Bead ( balance )

There are multiple locations for bracelets to be created along campus grounds.

THE LUNAR COAST.

The Lunar Tournament

This activity is eligible for festival redemption.

The Trawler Docks are open and bustling with activity! During this time of year, the ocean is flourishing with many forms of sea life.

Some locals offer scuba diving tours of Arcus Cove's coral reefs, while others will gladly rent out boats for other residents to enjoy the clear blue waters.

Of course, the docks are also host to the largest fishing competition of the year: The Lunar Tournament.

There are three main categories that one could enter into: Biggest Fish (measured by weight and length), Most Fish (measured by total weight), and Rarest Fish (judged by leading Marine Biologists of Arcanus Isle). The competition also has a catch-and-release policy, which dictates that all fish caught should be released upon completion of the final scoring.

The winners of each category will receive a cash prize of 1,000 keys, a trophy representing their category, and a brand-new fishing rod!

Fish Spy

This activity is eligible for festival redemption.

Primarily marketed towards families with younger children, Fish Spy is an event taking place in Arcus Cove. Participants are given a bingo card and taken out the coral reefs. There, they can snorkel in the waters while looking for many breeds of fish on their cards. (The cards are water proof!)

Some fish to find that are native to the Arcanus Isle include:

Comet Fish

Gem Fish

Illumenoctopi

Ripple Kelpies

Successfully filled-out cards can be exchanged for a variety of fish charms.

Nighttime Shimmers and Glows

This activity is eligible for festival redemption.

In brilliant displays of wonder and light, a fireworks show is held every Sunday evening along Halycon Beach. Many gather all across the Lunar Coast just to watch the astonishing display. The firework shows change almost every night, with each display being more even grand than the last.

The show is hosted by Vander Bard of the Comet Promenade. Many enjoy watching the show on the Comets Ferris Wheel, especially with friends and loved ones.

Along the Comet Piers and Comet Promenade many shops offer great selections of fireworks, sprinklers, poppers, and plenty of fantastically sweet and savory treats the likes of fair foods.

The Clearview District.

Aevum Olympics

This activity is eligible for festival redemption.

Attention all sports fans! Coming to the Clearview Stadium is one of the most highly anticipated events of the Isle! The Aevum Olympics is the time when Aercon from all over Aevum come to compete in various sporting events. These include but are not limited to:

Track and Field (split between marathon and half-marathon sprints)

Swimming

Wrestling and Boxing

Various sports (e.g., soccer, football, baseball, tennis, etc.)

Pole Vaulting

Gymnastics

Ice Skating

Ping Pong

and many others!

Note: The Olympics can also include sports from an Echoes' homeworld.

All are welcome to come and spectate or participate! There’s just one rule:

No Cheating.

Cheaters will be forced to repeat their event against an Olympian Android. (Specifically, one designed by the event's biggest sponsor, the East Tower Company)

It never loses.

Of course, Aevum’s Tossup is one of the most popular sports. Over the spring, the four teams have been preparing near-endlessly for the playoffs that occur during this event. Now, it is finally time for the four biggest teams to compete for the championship title.

See here for information on the local sport.

Make sure to follow Aevum Daily for updates!

Fanalea District.

The Golden Harvests

No people are more excited about the Sunflower Festival than the residents of the Fanalean Farmlands, and Echoes are encouraged to join in! Beneath the Golden Moon, the Fanalean community ensures that their fields are fully revitalized for the coming crops to grow.

Plenty of help is wanted in the fields to help cultivate and care for the land. Fanalean farmers employ any volunteers to pick up a trowel to clear the fields of Whisper Thistles, care for livestock, harvest the last spring produce, sow summer seeds, and prepare some fields to lie fallow for the season.

Up to 500 keys per day will be offered to participating echoes.

At night, the workers watch in awe as fields of sunflowers begin to glow brightly across the fields, matching the Zephyr Lillies around them. The sunflowers absorb sunlight in their petals, and then under the golden moon, they glow a bright golden color.

Sunflower Feast

During Sunflower Festival, the locals will often spend time experimenting with new dishes and flavors. When new recipes have been concocted, the chefs gather around the bonfire at the center of Fanalea to share them. In fact, the whole community comes together to create new traditions and delights!

Sunflower is a key ingredient in many of the foods found. A glowing, golden tea - called Golden Cortania - is made from the petals of the sunflower. It is especially a fan-favorite. Tins can of Golden Cortania be bought from select shops in the Vesper Town Trading Post.

Some of the foods that can be enjoyed include:

Sunflower Seed Muffins

Pumpkin Sauce Pizza

Eben Root Stew, and many others!

Honeyglow Meadery is also offering Sunflower Wine, which is only available during this festival.

The Aether Reserve.

This activity is eligible for festival redemption.

Keepers of the Lands, Skies, and Seas

As nature is the focal point of the Sunflower Festival, the Padedue Temple, Whisperwind Hacienda, and West Tower Society have combined efforts to create volunteer programs to help clean up and protect the natural world of Arcanus Isle. As this is a joint effort, the Hacienda is focused on education, the Padedue Temple is focused on volunteer work, and the WTS is responsible for funding and advertisements.

Information booths with petitions written by the West Tower Society will be posted all throughout Arcanus. Signers will pledge to protect the environment and spread awareness about ways residents can keep Arcanus Isle spick and span.

Those who sign on to the petition pledge will be made automatic volunteers, where they will be assigned a location to clear up any trash and resident-made debris. These trips involve waking up early, and are often an all-day event. Supplies are provided to the volunteers by the West Tower Society, and Willow Westson has designer a cool shirt with “Keepers of the Lands, Skies, and Seas” written on it. —They're tie-dye!

Most volunteer work will be found along the Lunar Coast. Primarily: Halycon Beach, Arcus Cove and Arcus Reef. But Downtown Arcanus' Quill Pillar Shores, the Aether Reserve's Moonview Springs, and any of the parks across Arcanus are all available volunteer locations.

Merchant Town.

Gateway Flea Market

This activity is eligible for festival redemption.

In the center plaza of Merchant Town, a giant, mysterious tent has appeared seemingly overnight! Instead of the various food stalls and market shops, there now sits a wondrous pavilion called the Gateway Flea Market.

This tent houses brand new stalls full of Aercon selling or trading their random assortment of goods to anyone who may find a home for them.

While many of of the prices come cheap, many other items may only be acquired through trading specific items that may take hours to find. An Echo dead set on a ware may find themselves embarking on a long and arduous Exchange Quest.

Curiously, in some of these stalls Echoes may come upon strange wares. Instead of the usual bits and bobbles however, what makes these wares so strange is that they may be familiar to the Echoes themselves.

These items range from books and journals, to trinkets, toys, jewelry and clothes, tools, decorations, and other such similar items. As with any item, these come at a price, and some merchants drive a harder bargain than others.

The rule of the game? One man's trash is another man's treasure.

Be warned if you see one of the Pyrite Pawners triplets! They are all ruthless in their pursuit of unique items to sell in their shop.

Note: The following restrictions apply: The Items can: - Be items that exist in an Echo's native world - Be pulled from any point in time in the Echo's world, regardless of an Echo's current or potential canon points. - Be minor canon items, background items, and major canon items. The items cannot: - Be any belongings found on an Echo's application, current or future. - be weapons or magical in any way. - be eligible for the Tier Four Homeworld Redemption item. - Be larger than a two-foot cube. - Be items that canonically belong to another character or from a world separate to their own. All items redeemed must not serve a largely important purpose. e.g., Bilbo Baggins could not find one of the Ten Rings. These items must be found in either thread or drabble form in order to keep them. In which, a brief description of what the item is, and may be used is required. The thread or drabble must be submitted to the Aevum Marketplace as proof for approval to put on one's Stats page inventory. Requests will be processed from June 22rd - May 3rd.

Notable Legends.

The Golden Moon

The two moons of the Aevum Isles have always held a certain air of mystery to them. Most scholars agree that the moons are a symbol of Ebenos, while the sun represents Ivurie's qualities. As the understanding of the Aether grows, studies have shown that during select periods of time, one Aether may influx so greatly that it reflects upon the other.

One of these select periods is the beginning of summer, in which the Ivurie Aether burgeons so greatly, it reflects in the largest of the two moons, turning it bright golden color. As the light of the golden moon bathes Arcanus in its glow, it can be noted that plants grow much faster than usual, and the wildlife become more active and present in day-to-day lives.

Many speculate that this phenomena is the Aether replenishing itself in all forms of life. There is, after all, no other time of year where Aevum sunflowers glow as they do during the summer nights. Now, residents of Aevum Isles look to the glowing, golden moon and her many stars for glad tidings, good luck, and rejuvenation.

Stay tuned for more information on the Viderenox Observatory.

#aevum event #sunflower fest 2024 #sunflower festival #aevumisles #multifandom rp #tumblr rp #panfandom rp #multifandom roleplay #panfandom roleplay #tumblr mfrp

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herrlindemann · 2 years ago

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Bravo 05.06.1997, interview with Till

The halls burn at their concerts. With their spectacular fire show and their super hit 'Engel' (this week number 3 in the German single charts), Rammstein from Berlin rose to become the new stars of the German rock scene. Frontman Till Lindemann plays the wild man on stage: The muscular, broad-shouldered singer fires flamethrowers, lets showers of sparks spray and dances across the stage as a living torch - without batting an eyelid. In the BRAVO interview, on the other hand, the shrill 'fire devil' shows a completely different side. Till, who has recently dyed his hair silver, speaks softly, in a deep but gentle voice. He seems very thoughtful, almost shy — and he rarely smiles...

Rammstein landed their biggest hit with 'Engel'. How did you get the idea to sing about angels?

The text goes back to a fairy tale I heard as a child. A boy asks his dad about his deceased mother: "Where is my mommy now? » The dad replies: «She is now an angel in heaven. Look up at that star. There's your mommy now! » This story fascinated me. I could sense how lonely and vulnerable the boy must have felt without his mother.

Do you believe in angels yourself?

Anyway, I've never seen one. Richard always says my lyrics are childish and wise at the same time. I really am like a big kid — naughty but innocent. People always think I'm strong and badass. That's not true. I am sensitive and easily hurt — and romantic and passionate in love.

How did you grow up?

We lived in Schwerin in what was then East Germany. My parents are artists. They left me alone, I could do whatever I wanted. I was mainly interested in sports. I was good at swimming, so when I was ten I went to a sports school where I trained for an international career. At first everything went great. When I was 16, I went to Rome with the East German team for the European Championships.

Was that your first trip abroad?

Yes, anyone who went abroad in GDR times was king! We didn't have the freedom to travel back then. I was totally fascinated by Italy. After the competition I abseiled with a girl I met in Rome. I had no intention of running. The next morning I reported back to the team. Unfortunately too late. I got into big trouble and was interrogated by the Stasi. What I did was a crime for them. It was then that I noticed for the first time in what a slave system we lived in. After this trip, I was fed up with the system. I got out and became punk.

How long has Rammstein existed?

Richard, our rhythm guitarist, founded the group in 1993. At Rammstein all band members are equally important. The group can only function with this cast. If one of us gets out, it's over. The guys played in various Berlin groups like Feeling B and The Instabokatables until 1993. I got by in Schwerin as a basket weaver. From time to time I played drums in some punk bands for fun. Richard is an old friend of mine. My voice has always fascinated him. I used to sing out loud at work and he would listen for hours. One day he brought cassettes with new, super hard songs and told me to sing along. At first I didn't feel like it because I didn't want to go to Berlin.

But then you went to Berlin after all...

Yes, Richard talked to me for three days. Finally he convinced me. We then recorded the first demos in the apartment he and Schneider shared at the time. I always had to sing under a blanket because my voice woke the neighbors from their sleep. The three of us formed the core team. Paul, Flake and Olli came later when we won our first studio session at the Berlin Senate Rock Competition in the summer of 1993.

Where does the band name Rammstein come from?

At first we didn't expect to be commercially successful. For over a year we went without a name because we only played at friends' parties. When we signed the record deal, we had to come up with a name quickly. Someone said: "Rammstein. » We liked this name — «Ramm» and «Stein» express movement, strength and hardness. We knew nothing at all about the plane crash that happened in the 1980s at the military training area in Ramstein/Rhineland-Palatinate. We all come from the east and didn't notice anything about the catastrophe.

At the beginning of your career there were rumors that you were right-wing extremists...

Absolute nonsense! We have nothing to do with fascists. When Rammstein started, we seemed like a foreign body in the German music scene because we didn't conform to any cliché. We're just not easy-going heave metallers with long hair and short pants. People didn't know which box to put us in. The box on the right was obvious because we acted very tough and monumental, with long leather coats, shimmering metal, bare shiny skin and all that fire. We wanted to provoke people and do something totally crazy.

« Mein schwarzes Blut und dein weißes Fleisch, ich werd’ immer geiler von deinem Gekreisch. Der Angstschweiß da auf deiner Stirn, hagelt in mein krankes Hirn… » you sing on the number 'Weißes Fleisch'. Are such harsh texts also created out of sheer desire to provoke?

My texts arise from feelings and dreams, more from pain than from pleasure. I often have bad nightmares, waking up at night drenched in sweat from fear because I saw some bad bloody scene in my dream. My lyrics are an outlet for the emotional lava boiling over in my soul.

What scares you?

We all try hard to hide behind a well-mannered facade that we are ruled and guided by drives and feelings: by hunger, thirst, fear, hatred, greed for power and sex. Of course there is also a very strong positive force in us - love. Without them, humanity would have exterminated itself long ago. Drives and negative feelings are particularly dangerous when they are suppressed and hidden from consciousness. In my texts they are allowed to come into the open.

Are you a pyromaniac?

Fire fascinates me. I once brought two New Year's Eve fire breathers to a gig and lit them between songs. The fans cheered and I burned my hands. But I thought it was great that I didn't have to stand around stupidly between the songs, but had something to do. I made myself a gauntlet that could spit fire, then a fire arm. At one point, the fire department showed up behind the stage. On this occasion I learned that you need a ticket to play with pyro effects. So I took the firework exam.

How do you actually live privately? Do you have a girlfriend?

No, not at this time. None of the six of us have an intact relationship. We're just too much on the go. But I don't live alone. I am single father. My daughter's name is Nele and she's twelve years old: she's my everything - for me even more important than Rammstein!

#Rammstein #Till Lindemann #Richard Kruspe #Paul Landers #Christoph Schneider #Flake #Oliver Riedel #1996 #interview #translation #*scans #*

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heartbeatan · 2 years ago

Text

The Art of Revenge (Chapter 7)

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Chapter 7

“I just knew you would have some sorta kink like that,” you looked down at Jungkook, your eyes narrowing in playful accusation.

He cocked an eyebrow, not refuting the claim in the least, not even a touch shy about the taboo. “Is that something you’re into?”

It wasn’t something you were into, necessarily… but it wasn’t something you weren’t not into either. You had crawled out of a few beds with a couple reddened cheeks in your day, but the moments were always fairly standard: you face down on the mattress, ass high and knees parted; your partner pounding you from behind, idolizingly massaging the globes of your flesh, then sparking your skin with a hand or two for good measure, groaning as they admired how your skin rippled in waves. You *had liked it. That sudden, hot shock of hard contact and how it contrasted then merged with the heat of your pussy consuming a dick. Those moments were fleeting in your sex life, and you had never explored them as anything more than a mid-coitus love tap… but since it felt good, why hadn’t you?

“It’s something that I *could be into?” you stated your answer in the form of a question.

“Alright,” Jungkook’s eyes twinkled with a dark, salacious sparkle. “Bend over and I’ll teach you a lesson.”

You weren’t sure which lesson he was referring to… the art of spanking fetishes, or the decorum of foot-jobbing someone out of paying for a brunch bill. Regardless, your skin and blood was beginning to tingle with the feeling of weightless lust, and your groin was beginning to moisten with the need to be pleasured again.

You unwrapped your arm from around his neck, and together you shifted in the tight space, until your knees were pressed into his seat, your torso was stretched over his lap, your palms were purchased over *your seat, and your ass was staring him in the face (and probably any unsuspecting locals who might be pulling their own trucks up the dirt road at any moment.)

Jungkook rubbed his palm heavy and firm over the leggings that guarded the rounded hills of your backside. Then his fingers hooked beneath the fabric at the top of your tailbone, and he pulled… peeling the spandex slowly down, revealing the inches of bouncy flesh and muscle, exposing your skin, until you could feel the humid air of summer waft over your dampened folds. You nibbled on your lip, stifling a small moan that wanted to escape. He wasn’t even touching you - but the feeling of being bare and vulnerable for him was doing things to your libido.

Jungkook, however, shamelessly hummed a throaty growl of appreciation as he smoothed his hand lengthwise across your butt. He then palmed its rounds southward - squeezing his fingers into the squishy clay. “God, you have a great ass, Y/N.”

You yelped as he pinched you, but your cry was only 10% shock - the rest was a dark and bubbling erotic plea for more.

His hand slid further south, over your crack, causing you to tense ever so slightly as it passed over the hidden crevice between your cheeks. You wondered - if you stuck around until Sunday - or longer - how soon you might be discovering that assplay was another interest in Jungkook’s repertoire. You had tried it before with Chris, and it had been a spectacular disaster.

*Fuck Chris! you silently cursed. Jungkook wasn’t him. Jungkook was methodical. Tender when he needed to be, and rough only when you deserved it. You’d bet the house you were about to sell that he would know how to do it right.

Today, however, was not the day for *that discovery. Jungkook’s palm curved deeper between your legs, and you gasped in an audible choke of air when his fingers knitted their way through your folds, and found your clit still hard and wanting.

You closed your eyes and bit harder on your lip, as you focused all your attention on the pleasure of him touching you. He circled your clit with his middle and ring finger, then stroked downward, splitting your lips apart, touching every lick of your pussy the pads of his fingers could find. His thumb leading the campaign - it smoothed up and back through the canyon between your cheeks, as his fingers slithered through your wetness. You tensed again as it teased your *other entrance with its mere proximity, but you relaxed a little more with each pass.

“Mm,” you pursed your lips, as you felt the familiar tingle of arousal ignite throughout your hollow.

*Smack! Jungkook’s hand came down hard over your ass.

“Ugh!” you screeched, and your body lurched forward over your arms to escape the assault. It was an instinctive reaction to pain. But pain never really quite came. There was a heat, a spark, a tingle of sensations. It wasn’t comfortable - but it also wasn’t all that uncomfortable either. You retreated from your escape, leaning back towards him, delivering your buttocks to his face once more.

“You like that?” Jungkook asked. He was genuinely asking - but something in his voice was also knowing. Like he already had his answer. There was also something ragged and primal behind his words - he was turned on.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Yeah, I do.”

“Good girl,” he said, and you could hear the wry smile in him, even though you couldn’t see it.

He went back to stroking your pussy, but you were on edge as he did. You weren’t sure when the next blow was coming, and it made your body feel neurotic. But it also made your every fiber immensely more sensitive. Your skin felt delicate and thin, your clit seemed to have adopted another few thousand nerves, and everything that encased it popped with unending energy.

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook,” you exhaled a low, resounding sigh, shaking your head as if you were disciplining how fucking good his fingers were behaving.

“Ahhhh!” you shouted into the truck, as his hand slapped you again, a little harder than the last time. Instead of leaning away from the impact the way you had before, your back arched. But it bowed just as quickly, as Jungkook started rubbing your clit right away.

As his hand slipped up and down along your core, your hips began to move back and forth over his lap, trying to grind itself against anything it could, even though there was nothing but air to grind.

“Oh-my-God--” your voice caught in your throat as Jungkook surprised your system by stuffing two thick fingers inside you. He stroked the velvet rugae of your walls, slipping easily in and out of you, and bending at the knuckles when he wanted to explore you further.

*Smack! this slap echoed through the trees outlining the gravel parking lot. But you didn’t even have time to yell the “fuck!” you wanted to curse before he plunged his fingers deep into you again, and started fucking you with an intensity that made your elbows begin to shake.

“Oh, shit, Y/N,” he said, his voice trembling like he was the one on the brink of coming. “Your making a pretty little mess of my pants.”

*Smack! he hit you again, then fucked you again. He didn’t give you time to absorb the pain before he brought you pleasure - but it was becoming clear to you that they were basically one in the same. Every shock of his hand made your pussy pulse into a higher plane of pleasure. If he stopped stroking you all together, spanking you might be enough to make you see the face of God.

But that was not his plan. In fact, he wanted to step it up a notch.

His left hand, which was doing double duty as the bringer of pain and the bringer of finger sex, was tagging in his right hand for the latter. His left hand withdrew from you, and began gingerly circling the patches of red hot handprints all over your flesh. His right hand, now scooped under your belly, snaked its way over your pelvis, sunk its fingers inside your chamber, and ground its heel into your clit.

It took a few exploratory thrusts, then it two began pumping you at a manic pace - clamping fingers over ridges, flapping wildly against walls, pressing pleasure points like they were buttons on a pinball machine. Then he spanked you again, and then the lines between pain and pleasure disintegrated completely. They were no longer “basically one in the same,” they *were the same... they were something more.

No breath escaped you that wasn’t accompanied by a pitch, sobbing cry of sexual rapture. Your ass began to bob, begging to feel his hand hit you again - your hips waved violently, trying to grind yourself against his fingers. You were getting so fucking close…

“You were a bad girl today, Y/N,” Jungkook’s voice was patronizing... and hot as sin. “I wanted to take you out for breakfast. Why didn’t you let me?”

*Smack!

“Shit!” your body heaved, and his fingers dug unnaturally deep into your guts. “Because…”

“Because why?”

“Fuck. I don’t know!”

He slowed his motions inside you, letting you have a piece of your mind back - but you weren’t so sure you wanted it back.

“Are you not grateful?” he asked.

“God,” you sounded exasperated, “I’m so fucking grateful, Jungkook."

You heard him chuckle, then you felt his fingers begin to stretch and curl again.

“Are you gonna behave from now on?” he asked.

“I don’t know what the right answer is!” you blurted out - since “misbehaving” was turning out to be rather rewarding.

“You wanna come, Y/N?”

“Yes, please!” you pleaded.

“Are you gonna let me pay for dinner tomorrow night?”

"At this point, I’ll fucking pay you to pay for dinner," you retorted.

*Smack!

“Yes,” you sobbed. “You can pay. Make me come!”

Jungkook’s hands once again swapped assignments. His right hand slipped out of you, then scratched itself through your scalp, grabbing a fist full of hair, tugging your head back, and bending your spine into a position that nearly immobilized you. The left slipped between your cheeks, then back into your pussy, and began fucking you hard and wild - instantly making your thighs quiver and shake with the telltale signs of an impending and explosive orgasm.

As prone as you felt, it seemed like everything about you was constricting: Your throat felt as if it was closing, like you couldn’t scream out all the cusses and moans you wanted to let loose; your ligaments all seemed to tighten, like you might never stand straight again if given the opportunity; and your pelvic muscles clamped down hard on Jungkook’s fingers, like your body was trying to suck them into you for eternity.

“Ugh! Uh! Uhhh! you choked out as you began to see white splotches invade the blacks of your closed eyelids. Then, with a final spank and a final sob that died in your throat, you exploded. Your body went entirely rigid. Every nerve ending imploded in on itself, then ploomed outward like the mushroom cloud of an atomic bomb. Pleasure thundered its way through your entire system, forcing a rush of wetness to stream out of your pussy, and drench Jungkook’s wrist. Jungkook kept flapping his way through your organs, and your body heaved as a second wave crushed you, spurting more of your juices to drip down your leg.

When you began to come down, Jungkook released your hair, and wrapped his arm under your body - supporting your weight and your precarious position in his strong arms. As more of the euphoria slipped away, more of the hot throb of your backside came into your consciousness. Then the feel of Jungkook’s lips, pressing softly over the red marks, came into your consciousness as well.

“You okay?” he asked gently, kissing the base of your spine.

“I’m fucking amazing,” you exhaled - and once again, you thought you could hear his smile. You moved to sit upwards, or crawl into the passenger's seat… or something. It was all a bit awkward, and at some point you did set off the horn with your hip. But somehow, under Jungkook’s not-so-helpful guidance, you pulled your pants up, found yourself back in the passenger's seat, but also found Jungkook with you.

He kneeled on the floor in front of you, and you sat on the edge of the bucket, your legs flanking his obliques, his hands at your waist, your arms around his neck, and his mouth over yours.

You couldn’t feel him against you, but you could still sense how his rock hard cock was straining against his pants. He had only pleasured you, and it was clearly a turn on for him - you felt terrible for the agony he was probably feeling. You knew you would be going crazy if you were in his position. Hell, even moments after coming yourself, you were already going crazy. You wanted him inside you again - not just his fingers… him. You were sure you were probably crazy sensitive down there, and that even the minorist of touches would feel like fire - but you wanted them anyway.

You slid a hand over his shoulder, then down his chest, tracing your fingers over the cotton covering his abdominals, remembering vividly how magnificent they looked last night in orange sunsets and the pale moonlights. Especially remembering how they contracted when he thrusted into you, or how they pulsed when he came inside you.

You then playfully danced your fingers along the waistband of his pants. It was enough to cause a gasping sob to escape him, and break the smooth and even way he was kissing you.

He moved to resume your lip lock, but all he could find was a very self-satisfied grin splitting your mouth. “You want me to touch you, baby?” you whispered, as you started to unfasten the button of his pants. From the first time since you met him, he always seemed so cool, calm, and collected. Even when he was pounding you senseless, and he was strangling out his pre-orgasm moans, he always managed to have an autarchic control over himself. But now, in his truck, kneeling before you, his forehead pressed to yours, your hands tickling the area around his need, a lot of that control seemed to have shredded.

His chest rose high and fell heavy with each of his breaths. He nodded against you. “I still want to fuck you, though,” he whispered. “I wanna come when I’m inside you.”

“You can,” you smiled, giddy that he wanted you so badly, and how it might lead to another orgasm for you. You closed your mouth over his once more, deepening your connection with your tongue, while your hands worked away at his zipper. Jungkook kissed you back with a sensual passion, breaking the kiss for only a moment so he could strip himself of his shirt. But the moment it was gone, his lips were back on yours.

You shuffled his pants down, taking his boxers with them, letting his cock spring free and slap against his stomach. You reached for it, and his breath hitched the moment you wrapped your fingers around his girth. You slid your palm over his head, and felt the distinct slippery wetness of pre-cum beading out of him. You twisted your wrist south, spreading the moisture all around him, and reveled at how his breathing changed when you did. It wasn’t enough lube, though - at least not for your purposes. You wanted to give him what he deserved. You released his cock, broke your kiss, then brought both your flattened hands up in front of his face.

“Spit,” you instructed him. He didn’t waste a second. He pinched your fingers between his as he lined up his target, and with a tensing of his jaw and swirl of his tongue, he delivered his saliva into one palm, then did the same with the other. You reached down again, now rubbing him fully as you greased up his shaft, which quickly turned into long, squeezing, and methodical pumps of your wrists.

Jungkook’s hip’s wanted to start moving the moment you made your first pass. He wanted to thrust into your fist, feel the bumps of your fingers ripple over his nerves, feel the heat of your palm warm him, and his cock pulsing inside the tightness of your grip. It wasn’t long until he gave into the instinct. Your hands moved too smoothly over his cock, twisted around him just the way he liked, and tugged at his balls just enough to make him crazy. Soon enough his hips were waving in sync with your every pump. His stone carved abs were trembling before your eyes, underneath droplets of sweat that pooled over each crevasse.

“Yeah, baby,” Jungkook mewled, his call accompanied by his fingers twisting into your lingerie. “I’m– I’m gonna– fuck—”

He tried to warn you of his impending release, but it died in his throat when your fingers found that sweet button behind his balls.

“Oh… shit…” he keened again, dropping his head to your shoulder, his hands now finding the flesh beneath your lingerie, and twisting your skin like it too was made of lace and silk. “Just like that. Shit!”

You pumped harder and faster, and the pitches of his sobs raised octave by octave as they matched his every leaping step enroute to his crescendo.

“You gonna come, baby?” you whispered into his ear with the same patronizing tone he had used on you not all that long ago. “You gonna make a pretty little mess all over my outfit?”

“Fuck, Y/N!” he bit into your shoulder, and pulled hard on your ass - nearly dragging you off your seat and onto him. His torso began to wave violently, and his grip on you became painful. “I’m– I– uh! Ugh!”

You felt his climax erupt within him. It was so intense you could have sworn you were feeling it yourself. His cock sputtered ribbons of white all over your dainty bodice, his hands squeezed with strength and released in weakness over your hips, and his muffled whimpers into your neck matched the way his body trembled around you.

He was such an erotic sight to behold - you never knew that dropping a hand could reap such rewards. Fuck, if you were his girl, you were sure there would be carpal tunnel in your future, since you’d spend your days chasing the high his high was giving you right now. It was such a damn turn on. Too much of a turn on since your recently satiated sex organs seemed to revive with the need for more.

Jungkook kissed you graciously, putting every word he couldn’t speak into a liplock.

“I’m not done yet,” he gruffed, and you perked at the return of his authoritative demeanor. “Take off your pants and turn around.”

You did as you were told, peeling your leggings off your body, and turning in the bucket seat. You weren’t quite sure what position he wanted you in this time, until he pulled the side lever which forced the seat to recline.

*Got it, you thought. He wants to see my ass again.

You weren’t exactly wrong. As you hugged yourself to the reclined back of the chair, Jungkook’s hands clapped firmly over each of your cheeks. He massaged them with circular motions and kneading fingers, until he lifted them both high and spread them wide. You first felt the tip of his nose press into your pussy, then his hot lips and wet tongue followed as he consumed you in his mouth.

“Mmm,” he moaned as he tasted you, and the vibrations rippled through your system, until you too were moaning with him.

You could hear the sloppy sounds of his tongue lapping you up as he licked you well and clean. Your hips began to rock into his face, begging for his tongue to please you further. He then began sucking his way upward, through the valley he had exposed between your ass cheeks, making his ascent north, inch by inch by inch…

*He’s going for it, you thought, bracing yourself for the foreign sensation you had only experienced once or twice. Then you sniffed a grin as you mentally patted yourself on the back. *I knew it.

“What are you laughing about up there?” Jungkook asked. You were surprised he had caught you.

“I’m just speculating that you’re an ass man in every respect.”

He dipped low, and licked another hot line along the length of your pussy, and you melted into the chair and his tongue.

“I am,” he affirmed, as he nibbled his way north again. You braced yourself again, licking your teeth as your waiting became longing, as his nips turned to sucks then to licks. Then… finally… you felt heat and wetness close sensually over your neglected and forbidden cave.

Forbidden it was. Foreign it felt. But a degenerate desire and unholy pleasure curled your toes. A small noise escaped you, and it was twisted with uncertainty and arousal.

“Has anyone ever fucked you here, Y/N?” Jungkook asked, before he went in for another lap.

“N-no… Not exactly,” you admitted.

“You’ve tried?” he guessed correctly.

“Yes. Oh!” you keened as the strange and confusing feelings of his tongue around your hole were solidifying into something more agreeable.

“Did you not like it?”

“I… um… don’t think we did it right.”

“Do you like me kissing you here?”

“Yes…”

“Good. Maybe one day, we can do it right,” he said. The idea made your heart begin to pound. It was scary and also enticing - as was the suggestion that you might spend enough time with Jungkook for there to indeed be a “one day.”

“Maybe one day,” you replied hesitantly.

Jungkook then began kissing a line up the length of your spine, crawling his body slowly up the chair, covering your form with his solid weight and tacky skin - until he was licking the shell of your earlobe, and you could feel the tip of his once again erect cock pressing against your folds.

“Just fuck me,” you demanded, your voice dropping into something authoritative.

*Smack! You felt his hand clap hard over your ass.

“Where are your manners, Y/N?”

“Please, fuck me,” you now pleaded. It wasn’t taking much these days to reduce you to an unscrupulous beggar.

“Good girl,” he said, then in one swift, hard motion, he slammed himself deep in you - the impact of your bodies making a deafening thud.

He withdrew, and fucked hard again, piercing the air straight out of your lungs. His hands found purchase over yours, which clung to the shoulders of the downturned chair, and he used it as leverage to pull himself into you, pounding you harder and firmer and faster with great ease.

You felt so used, and well rode against his ruthless onslaught - but you loved every single second of it. You loved how his body crashed and waved against yours, loved the clapping sounds of his pelvis slapping against your ass, loved the soft and not-so-soft groans he cursed into your ear. Most of all, you loved how full his cock made you feel - how it seemed to reach into depths you hadn’t broached before, and abrase pleasure spots that had been long untouched.

He dropped a hand, snaking it around your waist and between your legs, and began swirling your clit.

Once again, he circled and kneaded the bud the way you liked, and - once again - you stepped onto the path that led you up a mountain to the ledge where you would inevitably soar off. You announced your inclining pleasure with every exhale you made. You felt sweat begin to drip down the bodice of your lingerie, and you weren't sure if it was the heat of your arousal, the strain of your muscles or the humid weather wafting through the truck that caused it - but you didn’t care either way. Jungkook’s body was now slippery against yours, and you wished you were facing him, so you could lick the thick cording of his neck and taste his salt on your tongue.

The erotic thought made your pussy pulse and flutter around Jungkook’s cock, and he mewled something primal as you tightened around him.

“Fuck!” you both yelped at the same time - although it had nothing to do with sex. A noise - which also had nothing to do with sex - had suddenly chimed loud through the truck, and you both jumped wondering what the hell it was. You looked behind you - since you were pretty sure the chair’s headrest you were staring at wasn’t the thing yelling at you.

You noticed the dashboard touchscreen lighting up with an incoming phone call, and you glared at it, willing it to die a painful death since it was the reason Jungkook’s cock was no longer stuffed inside you. Jungkook looked at it too, but he was ready to ignore it since - well - he was busy. But then the number, which the system referred to as an coming from an “Unknown Caller” registered in your brain, and you froze. You recognized that number without question. It was Chris…

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked, noticing the subtle shift in you.

“It’s him,” you nodded towards the dash. You began shuffling around in the seat. “I assume he’s trying to call you because my phone is off.”

You began to shuffle around in the chair to sit proper. It wasn’t a conscious choice really, it just seemed like the right thing to do. Someone was calling the truck while you were in the truck… isn’t that what you do? But it couldn’t have been the right thing to do… because a moment ago you had forgotten your own name, and now, you were remembering your ex’s name. How could that be the right thing?

Jungkook looked concerningly down at you for a moment, but when he saw your wide eyes swirling with a “what should we do?” look about them, he turned back to the screen, and looked thoughtfully at it.

“I think I should talk to him,” he suggested. There was definitely a scheme in there somewhere. He reached underneath your knees, and tugged them gently towards him, guiding you to slide a bit further down the seat, and for you to rest your feet on the dashboard behind him. You looked up at him with an inviting salacity, delighted by this change in position: you were going to get great leverage if he fucked you like this. And the thought that Chris might hear it…

The phone call died after the fifth ring, and a little vindictive hope inside you died with it.

“He’ll call back,” Jungkook said. He took his cock in his fist, and brought the tip to your pussy. But instead of plunging inside you, and picking up where you two had left off, he lazily pushed the tip around your core… tapping your clit, splitting your folds, pressing against your entrance with no intent to infiltrate. You licked your lower lip as your body rocked and waved with every single taunting touch. “I think when he does, he and I should have a talk. I might need to thank him for being such a useless prick.”

He pressed his hips forward, letting the tip of his dick breach your folds - but he still gave you nothing. Your walls still clamped around the nothing, over and over, trying to beckon his cock into it.

“Should I, Y/N?” he tilted his head. “Should I thank him for sending me the finest fucking ass he’s ever seen?”

“I think you should,” you said. You tightened your knees around his waist, and tried to pull him forward, and force his cock to conquer at least a real inch. But Jungkook instead gave you a mile - sinking himself deep inside you - humming a delicious moan the whole damn way.

“Mm, baby, You feel so good. I’m gonna tell him how good you feel.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm hm,” he nodded as he sucked on his lower lip.

“Maybe I should tell him how big your cock is? And how good you fuck me with it?”

“Mmmm, yeah? I think you should, baby.” He began moving, slipping in and out of you at a strength that wouldn’t have you coming too quickly, but would definitely have you writhing the entire damn way.

“Yeah, just like that,” you encouraged him, brushing your hands along his forearms which connected to your hips. “You–”

The screen lit up again, ringing through the truck - and sure enough, Chris’s phone number flashed again across the screen.

“Him?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow at you, double-checking that it was in fact Chris. You nodded, then went to work admiring Jungkook’s pebbled stomach with your finger tips.

Jungkook reached over, and pressed the screen. The ringing stopped, and after a pause, you could hear the recognizable sound of someone using their car phone. Chris was driving somewhere.

“Hey, man,” Jungkook greeted - although his voice was more of a gloat than a salutation. That could have been a part of his bit, or it could be because he had just slipped himself balls deep inside you.

But, Chris’s voice didn’t come through the phone… Instead the voice that filled the truck was that of Stephanie.

“Jung… Jungkook?”

You both looked at each other with tilted expressions. Obviously neither of you saw that one coming. But something dark and sinister flashed across Jungkook’s gaze, and you knew then that this was still on, and that something else was up.

“Hey, Steph,” Jungkook said. Same arrogant tone, but with more of an edge. He slipped his cock smoothly down your chamber, then slammed it a touch harder back into your gut. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“You wouldn’t answer my calls.”

“I blocked your number long ago, Steph, you know that,” he said, and you heard a touch of anger in his words. He pulled out, and pushed in again, this time he let his hips lay hard over yours, and you felt his pelvis crush against your clit. Your back tried to arch, and a whimper fought to escape your tongue. But Jungkook slid a hand over your mouth, and muffled any noises you wanted to make. “By the way,” he continued. “I want to thank you for finally sending a woman my way instead of scaring them away from me.”

“Jung…” Stephanie sounded instantly defensive. “That’s not what happened! I explained myself already. Look, I just need to know if you spoke to her.”

“Of course I have,” he started grinding his hips into yours, thrusting up and down your chamber with shallow, consistent waves.

“Is she with you?”

He grinned knowingly and devilishly down at you, and your eyes matched his smile - since your mouth was still covered. “She is.”

“Jungkook, listen, I don’t know what she told you but you cannot believe her. She is not stable right now, okay? We’re really worried about her.”

Your eyes now told a different story. One of “what the fuck” and anger. Why on earth would *she call *you “unstable” when she was the one who fucked your fiancé?!

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed as he gave you a reassuring “she’s insane” shake of his head. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Steph. She seems pretty damn stable to me. You feel good, right baby?”

The phone went silent, save for the sounds of wind and cars whizzing by on the highway.

“She’s *with you right now?” Stephanie’s voice seemed to tremble, even though she was clearly trying to keep her cool.

Jungkook’s lips curved into a wicked grin as he eyed over the body he was in and hovering over. “She’s underneath me right now.”

“What the fuck?!” you heard Chris’s voice suddenly and your eyes widened. He was in the car with Stephanie and had been listening this whole time. He was in the car with Stephanie? Of course he was, they were calling you on his phone, but still... What the actual fuck?!

“Christopher,” Jungkook withdrew his hand from your mouth, brought it back to your hip, and began pounding into you just a touch harder, reminding your anger that it was best dealt with via pleasing physical exercise. “Man, I gotta say, you really fumble the bag. This pussy is fucking spectacular.”

“Jungkook!” Stephanie scolded, and you could see the stupid look on her face form itself in your mind. Your eyes sharpened, and you dug your tongue into your cheek as you smiled a diabolic telepathic message to Jungkook that said: Fuck me harder!

He did, then he let his next words gravel just a touch. “Really fucking spectacular.”

“Put her on the phone” Chris then growled. Seemed as though he and Stephanie hadn’t quite realized what was happening on the other end of the phone. You needed to step it up a notch.

“Mmm,” Jungkook pretended to think about it. “I think she might not be able to form long sentences right now. Ain’t that right, baby?” he asked you, but punctuated his question with a sharp, hard slam of his hips - one that echoed through the truck and was sure to be heard by Chris and Stephanie. Perhaps it wasn’t enough to clue them in completely, but they would definitely become suspicious. But when the long, strangled “ohhh!” escaped your lips, they would both need to be total morons to not figure it out.

“But I’ll tell you,” Jungkook continued speaking, but also continued thrusting - the clapping of his skin on yours now becoming steady background music. “She’s got this pretty little lacey thing on. I think she was gonna wear it for you on your honeymoon and all, but, uh, sorry man, it’s got my cum all over it now.”

“Oh, shit!” you keened - although this aroused call was all about Jungkook’s filthy mouth, and all the ways you knew it was making Chris and Stephanie bothered.

“How fucking dare you?!” Chris cussed.

*The audacity.

“How *dare who, Chris? The perfect ten you fucked around on, or me, the man who gave her exactly what she wanted?” Jungkook then stopped his rhythmic thrusts and tilted his head as he looked down at you. Then he stroked his cock long and slow into you, making you writhe and squirm and dig your nails into his skin. “I give you what you want, right baby?” he said, as he rolled a heavy circle into your clit.

“Fuck… yes,” you breathed.

“And what she wants is this big dick,” Jungkook directed at Chris again, then looked to you again. “Don’t you, baby?”

“I love your big dick,” you affirmed, albeit, a little more dramatically than necessary. But who the fuck cared?

“You like the way I fuck you?” Jungkook asked you, repeating his strokes and presses.

“Yes,” you gulped.

“Do I fuck you better than him?”

You didn’t even need to lie when you told him, “So much better!”

Jungkook withdrew his hips, then slammed into you again. Hard, fast, wet, and strong. A strength that would have you shuffled inches up the mattress. But your body didn’t move a touch. The bucket seat, your feet on the dash - you had nowhere to go. You had nowhere to escape from the ruthless slaughter of Jungkook’s hips. He could, and was, pounding you like he was trying to break you, and you were trapped, unable to do anything but take it.

It was euphoric.

You looked up at Jungkook, his eyes hard and hot on yours, gaze pinning you in place firmer than any passenger seat could. His jaw ticked, the vein in his neck pulsed, and sweat glistened over his every muscle and curve. He fucked you with fury and intent, and you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t even remember you might’ve had an audience. Hell, they may have hung up by then - you didn’t know or care. What was happening right now, between you and him made nothing else relevant.

Your screams became loud and timed with every impact of skin on skin, then quickly turned into shallow gasps for breath as you felt the pressure in your body begin to build its way into an eruption. Your back began to arch and curl as best as it could, and your pussy began to flutter rapidly around Jungkook’s cock.

“Oh, baby, you feel like you’re gonna come again. Am I gonna make you come again?”

“Yes…”

“Look at me when you do,” he said, nearly choking on the words himself as he too was ready to explode. He brought a hand up to cup your neck, pressing a thumb into your jaw so you had no choice but to stare him down. “I want you to see me make you come.”

“I– oh– Jun– fu– ughhhh!” you fumbled your cries as pleasure detonated your every nerve ending. Your body pulled taut, and released and pulled taut again, in repetitive waves that curled your spine and rocked your pelvis into his.

“I’m-gonna-come-I’m-gonna-come,” Jungkook whimpered quickly, his climax overtaking him before he could repeat the warning one final time. His body seized, then lurched forward, waving his hips against yours, milking him of all the pleasure he had to get, and giving you a ride that never seemed to end. Miraculously, he also kept your eyes connected when he came - his body wanted nothing but to take over him and give him the pleasure he deserved, but all he wanted was to see you, and for you to see him. You had never before experienced something so intimate, sexy, dirty, and all the best feelings all at once.

When your high was over, you pushed yourself upward, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he pulled you up around the waist, sat back on his haunches, and took you into his arms. You kissed each other deep, long, passionate, and appreciative. The only thing you didn’t appreciate right now was your lingerie. You wanted to feel more of him against you. Wanted your breast flattened against his chest, your sweaty skin to slip over his, and his hands to caress your flesh.

But, it was wise you still had it on. You were in a truck, after all, in a parking lot. Wedding lingerie was at least one way to keep yourself covered… wedding lingerie… fiancé… Chris… Chris was on the phone?

You jerked out of your lip lock and looked at the display screen, noticing the timer on the call was still going.

“You perverts still there?” you said to the screen.

There was no answer, just a touch of static or something in the background. You and Jungkook sat still as you waited for something. Then a quiet click was heard.

“Holy shit,” you exclaimed, looking to Jungkook, and realizing that Chris and Stephanie had probably just heard you and Jungkook arrive together. He smirked back at you with rogue satisfaction and a cocky flick of his eyebrows.

You both burst into a fit a laughter, albeit you weren't sure what emotion was bringing you such joy. All you did know was that today you no longer fucking cared about Chris and Stephanie. Whatever foul mood had interrupted your second day with Jungkook, the one you asked him to pleasure away from you, it was gone.

He had done his duty.

“Alright,” Jungkook spoke as you two began to untangle from each other. “Let’s go see this thing before all the locals show up after they get off work.

You went to work pulling yourselves back together - which was easy for him, and less easy for you. He pulled up his pants, grabbed his shirt, and stepped out of the truck. You, however, were in a semen covered lace teddy, ruined leggings and cork wedge heels on a hot summer day.

“I don’t wanna be a pooper, Jungkook, but I am a mess. I need to get cleaned up.”

“We can get cleaned up where we’re going,” he said as he opened the back door, and pulled out the thermal bag full of hopefully still intact ice cream.

“Look at my shoes,” you stuck out your heels. “They are not hike worthy.”

“It’s just on the other side of those trees. You’ll make it, or I’ll carry you. Or…” he trailed off as he came to a lightbulb moment. He rounded to the back of the truck and opened up the bed.

“Can you grab my shorts!” you hollered back to him. “Blue bag!”

“Yup!” he shouted back.

He returned triumphantly with your shorts and a pair of slides which were clearly his foot size and not yours - but it was better than heels.

Well, you had no excuses now. And you did ask for this.

You looked around at the road and the tree line in case someone was watching you… which was ironic since you just had two orgasms in at least 4 positions in that very spot.

“Cover me,” you said to Jungkook, then went to work stripping your lingerie off. Jungkook wasn’t great cover. He didn’t look for stragglers about the woods. Instead, he leaned his body against the door frame and watched every single inch of your struggle. You had no bra or panties to speak of anymore, but you pulled on your shorts and tank and just prayed that wherever Jungkook was taking you that it was going to be destitute. You slipped into the oversized slides, grabbed the destroyed lingerie, and crawled out of the truck.

Your first step forward was a stumble. Your legs were tight in some places and loose in others. As you aimed towards the oil barrel garbage can next to the park sign, your left foot crossed too far over your right, causing you to zigzag into Jungkook who caught you by the arm.

“Success,” Jungkook teased, but not until your next stride was on the straight and narrow.

“Huh?” you looked up at him.

“You can’t walk straight. I’ve done my job.”

“Oh!” you rolled your eyes as you recalled your first phone call. “It was the truck, not you.”

“Aww, well. I guess I’ll have to keep trying then,” he slung an arm over your shoulder, and kissed the top of your head.

You said goodbye to the honeymoon lingerie at the garbage can, then Jungkook took you by the hand, and walked you through the path cutting through the trees.

He was right about the “hike” being short. It only took a minute or two to cut through the tree line, following the downward path until you were at your destination. Your destination was a waterfall.

Not a big scary waterfall, just a tiny one that was mostly just mist rather than streams of water. It pooled into a small, shallow basin. You weren’t really sure where the water went after that, since you couldn’t spot an outgoing stream or river.

You noticed a thick rope tied to a nearby tree, and you assumed it was probably used for swinging and launching oneself into the basin. It was remarkably cooler, either from the thick canopy above which shaded the area, or the ambient effects of the water itself.

“It's a glacial waterfall,” Jungkook began answering the questions you had spinning around in your head. “The glacier is really far away though - it’s like several towns over but… this is what we get from it. It only really runs in summer afternoons when the glacier melts.”

“Alright,” you said, impressed, eyeing the remarkable creation of nature. “And only locals know about it?”

“Yup,” Jungkook winked as he guided you towards some rocks which clearly were set up to act as seating. “I’ll have to kill you after this.”

“Well, damn. I thought you said you weren’t a serial killer.”

“I’m not, just a good community member.”

He unzipped the bag and pulled out the container of ice cream, along with the recyclable spoons he had grabbed from the deli counter. The container was drenched in condensation, but the ice cream itself was impressively still intact.

You sat together for a while, talking, teasing, even obnoxiously and carelessly feeding each other, just so you could have the excuse of a “let me get that ice cream off your lip” kiss. Somehow, you “clumsily” dropped some ice cream onto Jungkook’s neck. Physics is an incredible thing, and it took a lot of the surface area of your tongue to clean up. Jungkook also had an “accident” when he spilled some over your thigh, and he had to work quickly - but not too quickly - to lick it all up before it dripped all over your leg and was wasted to the ground.

Soon enough, after many ice cream disasters, you were both naked again. Although this time you weren’t having sex… yet. You were just testing out the temperature of the water.

It was cool and refreshing, and everything you needed on a day like that. The majority of the basin was shallow enough to walk on, and that’s where you spent most of your time - wrapped around Jungkook’s body, your chests pressed together, your legs around his waist, while he waded the two of you through the pool between intermittent makeout sessions. Eventually, he brought you to a space near the edge, where he could sit comfortably on a submerged rock.

You took a quiet moment to admire his beautiful face, from the deep color of his eyes, to the tiny freckles and scars, even tracing the sharp line of his jaw with your finger.

“You’re really handsome,” you said when you had resigned yourself to the truth. He was handsome, and he should know. He looked bashfully away from you, but ultimately accepted the compliment. “You’re also, just… I don’t know. Kind. And generous… And fun. I wish I knew that long ago.”

He sighed and nodded. “I wish I hadn’t been such a dick so long ago.”

“You weren’t a dick,” you shook your head.

“I judged you too quickly because of Stephanie. That wasn’t fair of me. I’m sorry.”

It hurt a little to hear, but it wasn’t like you had a leg to stand on. You judged him - as an asshole - back when Stephanie was venting to you about her broken heart. “I think I did the same. Is that why you avoided me? Because of her?”

“Maybe a little. Like I said, I was avoiding her, but… yeah, I didn’t know what you were all about. At first anyway."

“Will you tell me what happened?”

He sighed long and heavy, and you felt his body almost slump beneath you.

“It’s a mood killer,” he warned.

“You mean like my ex-fiancé calling in the middle of us having sex in your truck?”

He laughed through a tight lipped smile. Then, with a final nod, he looked up at you and started to tell his story.

"I knew she liked me. But I wasn't really interested. I try to avoid dating within friend circles… at least back then, it got a little messy in high school and all and I don’t like the drama. But also, I just didn’t really like her. She just kinda gave me an off vibe... I don't know, I didn’t have a reason, but I just wasn't interested. But whatever, we were in the dorms so of course we had mutual friends and I try hard to not be a dick so… whatever, I was nice.” He raised his hands out of the water and brushed them through his hair, smoothing his long, black tresses into place. Part of you wanted to say “fuck the story” and just ask him to do that again.

His hands returned to your waist and he resumed.

“So, she one day starts dating my roommate. You remember Barry?”

“Of course,” you said. You met Barry on one of your trips to visit Stephanie’s school, but you only saw him a few times. So few, in fact, you didn’t realize he and Jungkook had been roommates. “She told me he cheated on her.”

Jungkook clicked his tongue, instantly annoyed by the suggestion. “Noo…” he said slowly, and you realized you had stumbled upon one of those *things-you-believed-but-were-actual-lies. “She made a pass at me while they were dating. She came to visit our room while he was at work.”

“Ew,” you grimaced.

“Yeah. So, I told him. And he got pissed… at me.”

“Oh, Barry,” you sighed his name. Shooting the messenger was a tale as old as time. But the truth was, you could empathize with Barry. Honestly, before this week, your perspective on how to be the survivor of infidelity was different. You too might have lashed out at the messenger.

“I don’t know,” Jungkook lamented. “Looking back, I don’t know if I should have said anything. It's just… I thought he would want to know. I would have wanted to know.”

“I get it,” you groaned. “You did the right thing though. I don’t know if the me of then would have had the guts to say something.”

“So, it was rough between us for a bit, but they were on and off for so long, so I put up with her. But she kept fucking hitting on me. But, I learned my lesson to keep my mouth shut. So, yeah. That’s why I avoided her at parties and stuff. I was trying to not get hit on by my roommate's girlfriend.”

“Okay,” you nodded. It seemed pretty simple. And, honestly, would be enough to explain why he didn’t like Stephanie. But, you could sense something else. There was more venom, more hurt you had picked up on when he spoke about her. And then there was the odd thing he said to her in the truck…

“When we were… in the truck,” you made a funny face and shimmied your shoulders, shrugging as he caught which truck activity you were referring to. “You said something to her about sending a woman your way instead of scaring them off? What did that mean?”

“You caught that, eh?” he tilted his head in embarrassment.

“I, well… you were inside of me at that point, so yes.”

“So… this is the longer part of the story... buckle up,” he swallowed and moistened his mouth before taking a deep breath. “Me and this girl that I really liked were sleeping together... you know how college relationships go," he shrugged at you and you nodded back, understanding completely. All of your college relationships started as hook-ups, skipped formal dates and dove right into changing your status on social media.

"Anyways," he continued, "I was about to ask her to be my girlfriend, but then Steph told me that she had been sleeping with someone else. I confronted her about it, and it turned out to be true. I was… crushed really. I thought we had something good going, but obviously I read the signs wrong.”

You gave him a small, empathetic smile, "I'm sorry."

“That was probably the closest I came to experiencing my first heartbreak. It sucked,” he sighed. “But it's not like we were exclusive or anything so, I got over it. So, that was that. And a little bit later I was with another girl. Same thing, we were hooking up and I wanted more so I asked her to be my girlfriend. She said yes, and we were together for a few weeks. She lived off campus, so we mostly stayed at her apartment, but I sometimes brought her to the dorms. One night I brought her over, and I don’t really know what happened, but she left without saying anything, and the next day she ghosted me."

Your face skewed. You couldn't understand where this was all going. You couldn't imagine any woman having Jungkook as a partner and just throwing him away like that. He was incredible as a man now, but you remembered he was pretty damn incredible back then.

"That's so weird," you shook your head, unable to yet put the pieces together.

"And it kinda happened again. I'd start seeing a girl, things would get serious and then fall apart, and I just had no idea what I was doing wrong. Until one girl I was with confronted me."

"Confronted you about what?"

"She accused me of cheating on her."

"What?" your brows furrowed in disbelief. "Why?"

"She told me that someone had caught me with another girl. I told her it wasn’t true. We had a big fight. I even let her search my phone and my accounts, and she found nothing. But she still didn’t believe me, because,” he stuck his fingers in the air to mimic quotation marks, “I had a reputation.”

"What the hell?"

“We argued some more, and she started telling me all the stories she had ‘heard’ about me. All the stories were basically about my past relationships, except that they all ended with me allegedly being involved with someone else, which led to me being dumped. Which was insane, I…” he trailed off as his temper began to rise.

"The thing is," Jungkook then let out a long, painful sigh, and your heart sank as you sensed the hurt in him. "My parents divorced because of infidelity. Just before I went to school. It was fucking awful. And... I swore I would never be like that. So, it really fucking hurt that she thought that about me. And then I found out that it wasn’t just her who thought that – I really did have a reputation on campus. I even spoke to some of my exes about it."

“That’s terrible, I’m so sorry,” was all you could figure to say. You were still so confused – you had no idea how this related back to Stephanie. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he avoided your gaze completely. You could feel how humiliated he felt, and you wanted to take it all away from him. He shouldn’t feel ashamed – not when the rumours were all untrue. “I mean what was I gonna do, put up a poster?”

“I would have dropped out and crawled into a hole. You’re way braver than I am.”

“We were in final semester when that all went down, so…” he shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal.” You could tell he was trying to hide his hurt from you, and brush it off like it was nothing. It caused another lump to form in your throat, and this one was somehow more painful to swallow away. You couldn't imagine. He was basically a kid back then, and on the heels of his parents troubles, and enduring a brand he didn’t deserve?

You reached under the water, found his hand and covered it with yours, giving his fingers an empathetic squeeze.

"I'm so sorry, Jungkook. I don't even know what to say."

He brushed his thumb over your knuckles, then uttered, "It's fine. You went through so much worse."

"It's not fine,” you said sternly. “You didn't deserve that. And it’s not a competition.”

He offered a tight smile, then, after another deep breath, resumed the story. You had almost forgotten that this whole thing had something to do with Stephanie.

“So… fast-forward to two years ago. The camping party at my house… You were there.”

Intrigued, you sat back a little straighter, bracing yourself for the big reveal. “I was,” you nodded.

“Well… so was one of my *exes. She’s married now to Seth.”

“Oh, okay, sure!” you nodded, vaguely remembering seeing someone with the person who you thought was Seth.

“So, day one of the weekend, her and I are talking, and she asks me if I’m still with Stephanie.”

“Huh?”

“My reaction exactly. So, I tell her, ‘I never dated Stephanie.’ She looked confused, and then we kept talking and… I found out some stuff.”

“What?” your eyes widened and your brow furrowed.

“Basically, she filled me in on all the rumors, what they were and where they started. They didn’t all directly link to Stephanie, but they all… eventually led back to her. Basically someone would hear from her that I was with another girl. Sometimes they would hear from Stephanie herself. Sometimes it was someone else who told them. Sometimes I was cheating on Stephanie with my current… relationship. And sometimes Stephanie was the other woman or whatever. It all came back to her. She started the rumors every time I got close to someone – until I became a pariah.”

"Are you fucking serious?!" you felt your cheeks begin to heat. All you felt was flaming red rage. How the fuck could someone do that to someone else?

He nodded. "Yeah, thought she was, I don’t know, taking up some sort of revenge against me because I turned her down or because I ratted her out to Barry. I didn’t know. But… I wanted to find out. So… and this may be where I’m the asshole, but… for the next day or so I… flirted with her.”

You nodded as that information tracked in your memory. You had thought something was finally happening between them that weekend, and were surprised when you drove home with a sobbing Stephanie beside you.

Jungkook continued, “On the second night, she was pretty liquored up and we were talking and whatever. And then I brought up my suspicion.”

Your mouth was now permanently locked open. You slumped back over Jungkook’s lap, thinking if you could see more of him, the picture being painted for you would become more clear. This behavior was... insane... You didn’t even know what to ask next.

“She didn’t deny it,” he shook his head. “Actually, she corrected me. She was appalled that I thought she was doing it for revenge. She said she was doing it because she thought if no one else would date me, then I would ‘see that she was the one for me,’ or some shit like that.”

“I—” your rage caught in your throat. “She’s a fucking bitch!” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You never knew this side of her existed. “What did you do?”

“At first, I did nothing. I pretended to understand her – but then the last day of the party, I talked to her and told her that I hated her fucking guts, that I thought she was terrible, that if she was the last person on earth I still wouldn’t even fuck her, and that I never wanted to see her again.”

You shook your head, now staring at the ripples in the water between you.

“I know,” he said regretfully. “Not my finest hour. I was… pissed. She fabricated this… persona of me that I loathed. It hurt. I wanted her to know that.”

“No,” you shook your head. “She needed to hear that. You didn’t do anything wrong. I can’t believe she would… sabotage you like that… I don’t know what other word there is for it. This is… insanity.”

Then, a wave of guilt washed over you as you realized something.

You tried to slip off his lap and back into the water, but the moment you went to move, Jungkook tightened his grip around your waist.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you had no clue what the hell he was apologizing for.

“No… no…” you nearly spat at him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come up here.”

“Why?” he looked confused and even a bit terrified.

“It’s not you Jungkook,” you tried quickly to correct whatever he was falsely thinking. “I shouldn’t have brought you into my shit. If I had known, I wouldn’t have brought her and all those memories back into your life. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” he pulled you closer, and angled his face so you couldn’t hide from him. “Stop that. I’m not upset that you’re here. I’m happy you’re here. I want you here.”

You let your eyes roll up to meet his, and you felt a fluttering in your chest as you registered the desperation in him.

“So… this week…” you spoke slowly. “It’s maybe a little bit about getting back at her too?” You hated how the idea hurt you. You were using him. Who were you to feel bad that he was using you too?

He let out a long exhale. “Only a little bit. But… if you had asked me, even without her involved, I still would have said yes.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Cuz it’s you,” he then grinned and raised his eyebrows, and you could tell he was trying to lighten the mood. “You have a really spankable ass and all.”

It worked. You chuckled softly through an uncontrolled smile.

“Do you want to go home?” he then asked softly, almost timid as if the question was a risk. “Before the groceries skunk?”

You would have teleported back to his house the moment he suggested it. You felt… sick. And tired. And angry. Angry at yourself, angry for him. Angry at her. This information… you were glad to hear it, but it was exhausting. Jungkook even looked exhausted. Going “home,” even though it wasn’t your home, just felt right.

“Yeah,” you nodded with a soothing smile. “Let’s go home."

Go to Chapter 8.

#bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #jjk x y/n

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bitter69uk · 1 year ago

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“Whenever Diana Ross goes shopping in Paris, it is a sign of what a famous person’s charisma can do. One day, she wanted some trinkets to wear to go dancing. After having lunched with friends at Maxim’s, her mile-long stretch limousine (something rare even in Paris) pulled up, and she was the first outside on the sidewalks in her floor-length sables at noon. Off she cruised to E. Oxeda, the Faberge of antique jewelers. Inside, she threw her sables on a chair. She jumped up on a Louis Something desk, her fake hair flying at half-mast. She crossed her legs, dangled them as she selected in ten minutes an antique pearl necklace, a diamond clip and some earrings that did the shake, rattle and roll between her cheeks and hair. The image of fame came when the bill was drawn up. “Would you like some identification?” asked Diana. Mme Oxeda said: “No, Miss Ross. We will deliver the jewels to your hotel this afternoon before six.” And this was a high Saturday when no banks could be called to verify her astronomical check, drawn on a bank across the Atlantic Ocean. It could have easily been an imposter, a drag queen, a professional thief. But Diana Ross’ super glamour is so authentic, it can’t easily be imitated.”

/ Andre Leon Talley in the book Mega-Star (1984) /

All hail the Queen! Call her Miss Ross! Happy 80th birthday to durable, volatile veteran pop diva, occasional (Oscar nominated) actress, sequin enthusiast, all-round glamour icon and one of Detroit’s finest daughters – the fabulous Diana Ross (born 26 March 1944)! Understandably everyone loves Ross’ music (both with the Supremes and solo), but I particularly treasure Ross’s spectacular 1975 film Mahogany in which she plays a struggling aspiring fashion designer who achieves the pinnacle of supermodel mega-stardom in Italy. It’s an unassailable so-bad-it’s-GREAT camp classic in the tradition of Valley of the Dolls, Mommie Dearest or Showgirls (and Ross’s outrageous costume and wig changes surely sparked the imagination of generations of Black drag queens, including “Mama Ru” himself). Fittingly, La Ross is currently one of the official muses of Saint Laurent’s Spring / Summer 2024 campaign – and it feels like a belated Mahogany moment! Portraits by David Sims.

#diana ross #the supremes #motown #diva #ysl fashion #lobotomy room #gay icon #glamour #kween #fierce #sequins #mahogany #detroit #david sims #fashion photography

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flowerandthesongstress · 2 years ago

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Alice/Noah anything!

🤖🌹beep instructions scarce and unclear beep defaulting to base parameters: lifelong friends. healthy relationship. instantly resolved miscommunication. emotionally mature. ¡qué viva colombia! pining. just a bit sad. life is shit but hugs aren’t shit. family issues. emotional support. ambiguous cryptid pc cameo. comfort comfort comfort comfort comforrrr *erupts in sparks* mmffffffrrrr *blasts some hardcore extreme bass-heavy sarah mclachlan*

An Ordinary Miracle

Alice (x) Noah | G; no tw.

Here she is, fresh out of bed, still sleepy, barefoot, not even dressed — marveling in awe at what might have always been here; unsure of why today, of all days.

read below or on the other hellsite.

The first thing that crosses her mind as she looks out the wide-open window of her room: has the sky always been this blue?

The curtains fluttered, disturbed by a gust of breeze invading her room, just as the alarm shrieked. Punching the button, Alice groaned, turned away from it and towards the light, and grimaced, and opened her eyes, and saw.

Has the sky always been this blue?

Alice wasn’t sure, and this uncertainty puzzled her. Instead of shuffling to the kitchen or the bathroom, the way she always does, she approached the window and discovered that it wasn’t only the sky. All of these colors were mesmerizing; a strikingly vivid turquoise blue of the water lapping at the platinum shore, bathed in a quince-marmalade sunrise.

So taken aback by the spectacular view, that for the last several minutes Alice has been stock-still, staring at it with her mouth agape.

Alice knows this island like the back of her hand; she was born and raised here, after all. Living right by the ocean for so long, she got used to seeing, hearing, and breathing it every single day. It became an insignificant background — noise, sight, smell, and the whole notion of its perpetual neighbourship. Tourists always gush about how extraordinarily beautiful the island is; usually, Alice gives a polite nod in response, offering words of agreement and one of those automated platitudes which lost their meaning long ago. In truth, she just couldn’t see it; she barely looked.

Today, it’s different. All of it. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore, the tang of the salty breeze caressing her skin, the warmth of the sun’s rays on her face — each one of these sensations feels new and fascinating. As if she has never met the sea before; as if it was a stranger to her, or she was a stranger to the sea. Despite how they’ve known each other since her birth.

Fresh out of bed, still sleepy, barefoot, not even dressed, she is marveling at what might have always been here; unsure of why today, of all days.

Nothing’s changed, after all. Her life is just as drab, isn’t it?

Alice checks herself and stops staring; there’s only so much spare time to spend on her morning routine, and she would do better not to waste any. Her sister Suki likes to say, ‘Hospitality is all about putting the guest first’ and ‘Laziness is reserved for tourists’ and ‘Chop-chop!’

She’d hate to give Suki a reason to say any of these things. Today or on any other day. But in the staff kitchen on the ground floor of Coral Inn, instead of doing anything useful, she idly stands, waiting for her coffee to brew, a thermal cup clutched in her hand, and stares out the window. At the hotel-adjacent beach — a long stretch of white sand— and at the pier jutting far into the water.

It’s not the final beep that brings Alice out of her reverie; she flinches as the fabric of her cropped summer pants is yanked. Knowing what’s coming, she moves to the side and opens the fridge door like an automaton.

“Juice!” her niece Valentina demands with a delay, raising her mug. A mug decorated with a ‘cartoony’ mermaid possessing exaggerated facial features and a couple of other exaggerated things; Suki bought it. Suki thinks that this insensitive and appropriating mug is funny. Suki bought a whole batch in bulk and now resells them to tourists as souvenirs.

Pouring some juice into the mug, Alice once again — for the hundredth time, perhaps — wishes she could choose a new one for her niece, although she’d never admit this wish to Suki, and it’s a fleeting, routine thought. But today, all of a sudden, Alice muses on whether she’d actually be able to pull it off. What if she just buys a really pretty mug for Val’s birthday? It’s in a week. If Val likes the gift and chooses to keep it for her own daily use, there’d be no reason for Suki to object, or discuss, or split hairs, or to say anything at all. Val is headstrong, and, despite what Suki loves to repeat on the regular, it’s her daughter who is the top priority, and not the tourists.

Tourists are the close second.

Val gulps down her juice in one go and raises the mug again, this time with both hands. “More!”

It’s odd how early she is today — and already dressed. Val loves to surf, but the weather is too calm for a surfing lesson. Not to mention, this frilly and cute sundress could hardly serve as surfing gear.

“Why are you up so early?” Alice asks, pouring her more with no objections. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes! Ollie invited me to go flower-spotting. Have you ever gone flower-spotting?”

When she and Noah were little, they used to go looking for all kinds of stuff, just the two of them. Bugs, critters, flowers, ghosts, gods, and stories. When they were kids, every day spent with Noah was about something brand new and exciting.

“Of course. It’s a lot of fun. Just watch out for fairies, they can be vicious this time of year.”

Alice doesn’t remember how and why precisely they stopped going. Was it because a flower fairy bit him on the nose? Or did they stop after Noah kissed her? As she was braiding three grass stalks together to make into a bracelet for him, he pressed his cushiony lips to hers in a quick and loud smooch, and ran off. It was the first kiss for both of them. She remembers it better than a lot of things from her childhood. She remembers the kiss tasting of bubble gum. She remembers the ‘bracelet’ slipping out of her petrified fingers. These memories and feelings are anything but bitter ... yet they are so distant and faded that she can’t help but wonder whether they’re even real, whether she imagined them, dreamt them. She and Noah remained friends, after all, up until he left for school. She thought he would never return, but he did...

“Hair!” Val’s already deposited the mug into the dishwasher and procured the hairbrush, out of one of the kitchen drawers. Suki keeps on putting the brush away, but it always ends up back here.

It’s a tradition: for Val to sit on the same chair in the staff kitchen and for Alice to style her long tawny hair into a half-up crown braid. It’s been a tradition since Val still had to climb the chair instead of simply sitting down on it.

“Would you like something different today?” Alice always asks her, and the answer is always no.

“Yes!” says Val. Today, she wants her hair ‘all down and pretty’.

Coffee is done. Most mornings, when she needs to unwind, Alice pours herself a full cup and goes to the square. With a book or with her thoughts; doesn’t matter. This ritual allows her to level her mind, calm down, and cope with the upcoming day. Always to the square. But today she can’t help but feel that this morning routine could use some variation.

The pier looks so inviting, bathed in the summer sun, framed by a glittering expanse of turquoise blue. Alice decides to take her coffee to the pier today.

Outside, the soothing, persistent sound of the ocean waves rolls into her ears. It’s been a while since she last noticed, really noticed it. How long has it been since she’s last gone for a swim?

Walking the length of the pier, she sits at its furthest edge, her bare legs dangling above the water.

The pier is old, and it might remember things which Alice forgot. Old, but not neglected; Valentina’s favorite uncle Rafi is making sure to maintain it in neat condition. The wooden planks might be worn from decades of use, but they’re still safe and sound, and they will last.

The breeze tugs at Alice’s hair and makes it sway about her face, tickling. Taking care to not let any of her coffee spill, she brushes the strands off to the side with her free hand. Perhaps today she should have done something different to her hair, too, instead of leaving it down as usual.

Inhaling the tang of the salty brine, she watches the gently swaying water. The sea is as endless as the sky, but more alive. It seems like a gentle, almost imperceptible pulsation is going through it. The waves are shifting in sync, as if the sea itself is breathing ... Breaking its surface, a couple of merfolk emerge in the distance. Alice tenses, praying that she will neither be waved at nor, as that would be much worse, approached and forced to partake in meaningless small talk; praying that she’d be left alone. Luckily, the merfolk dive back into the depths in seconds, having not noticed her. Alice exhales in relief.

A strange sensation is stirring in her chest, and Alice isn’t sure what to call it.

It reminds her of anxiety, of nervousness, but lacks the distinct prickly edge of either. An overwhelming, breath-stalling kind of anticipation that borders jubilance; she might have experienced this feeling as a child ... If she absolutely had to, she’d have called it ‘waiting for a miracle’.

Although she tried, Alice can’t shake this unexplainable premonition: today will be a day unlike any other.

Unlikely.

Sure, there are some days which stand out from the rest and are especially vivid in her memory. Days when everything that could possibly go wrong — does go wrong. The toaster in the breakfast hall breaking down along with the coffee machine, a guest bringing in an infectious disease, a guest getting drunk and rowdy, a guest starting a fight, a guest trying to take a picture of a stone statue and getting a stone punch in the groin because the ‘statue’ was a stone giant who didn’t appreciate being gawked at when they’re meditating; Alice being the one who has to remind the guest to read the Terms of stay when he yells to be given monetary compensation, Alice being the one who has to endure verbal abuse from him, Alice trying not to cry, Alice failing; Suki requesting this, Suki demanding that, Suki making decisions for both of them, Suki shaming her, Suki pushing her into doing things that make Alice want to ball up and bawl, things like making calls and yelling at suppliers and demanding things from them and shaming them.

Alice gets such days quite often.

Best she can hope for is a quiet day without too much stress. There is no tangible reason to expect any miracles.

No reason to expect anything out of the ordinary, even.

But Alice is convinced. Something is going to happen. Something big and profound. Something— She sighs; although the waves are masking the sound, although there is no noticeable shaking, she can still feel the weight of the footsteps through the interconnected wooden planks, and knows that someone stepped onto the jetty and is about to approach her.

Alice doesn’t want to turn or look over her shoulder in order to see who that is. It could hardly be Suki. Suki would have shouted from the boardwalk. Taco, a mountain spirit inhabiting the body of a dog, does come over sometimes, but he always politely inquires whether he’s allowed to enter private property, or if his presence would be disruptive today — before stepping on the hotel’s jetty. So it’s likely a guest who’s either feeling flirty or wants to complain or demand, or Suki’s ex-husband Antonio, who, despite them being divorced, still lives at the Inn and likes to grumble or cry into Alice’s shoulder, although Alice’s shoulder never gave Antonio consent to do that. Whoever that is, the magic will be disrupted. She is clinging to the last threads of the pleasant and mysterious feeling, while strongly suspecting that it’s about to be washed off and disappear forever.

She can feel the threatening presence behind her back, the footsteps light, quiet, and confident. When a shadow falls over her, Alice shrinks into herself, as if she could turn invisible this way, and inadvertently looks up.

“Hey, Allie.”

Her rigid shoulders sag and the tightness within her uncoils. Right before her body tenses in an entirely different way.

As a child, Noah would have grinned ear to ear at her, or roughhoused her, or grabbed her wrist and pulled her away to the beach or to look at something fun, or to nick sweets off the tavern’s kitchen, or play a new game he’d invented. He would have done many things, and would have had no reservations and no second thoughts.

As a child, she would have thrown herself at him and hugged him, or asked if he’d like to go snorkeling, or insisted that he read a book to her today, or made him listen to a song that she liked. She would have done many things, and would have had no reservations and no second thoughts.

But now she just stares, with no clue as to what to do or what else to say except for ‘hi’.

Now he just smiles softly and asks if he’s allowed to stay a while and keep her company.

Now Alice finds herself nodding and then nodding some more. Now, raising her unsealed thermal cup as Noah lowers himself to sit next to her, she asks, “Coffee?”

Now Noah shows her the sealed thermal cup he’s brought with him.

He’s been back for a while, but it’s the first time they’re one-on-one since his return from uni.

The first time she’s seeing him from so up close.

As teenagers, they were awkward, neglected and miserable, and believing that the entire world was against them, and always pretending to be mad at everything but each other, and always lying to their parents and siblings, and sneaking out, and drinking beer and smoking cigarettes, and listening to shitty music way too loud, and trying to act grown-up and tough, and failing at it together, and always saying ‘I hate this island, I hate this world, but I don’t hate you’, and they were allies and accomplices.

As a child, she was pudgy and plump, and always dirty from head to toe, and her hair was always tangled, and she had chubby cheeks and a huge gap between her front teeth, and was always sporting bruises and scratches, and always getting new ones as soon as the old ones would start to fade, and always wearing mismatched hand-me-downs, and always telling Noah that he was the coolest and that they would be best friends forever.

As a child, he was gawky and clumsy, and his feet were too big, and his arms were too long, and his hair was a mess, and he had pockmarks from varicella, and he was always chewing on a piece of gum and scowling a huge white-tombstone grin, and always blowing pink bubbles in her face, and always threatening to stick the gum in her hair, and never doing that, and always wearing mismatched hand-me-downs, and always teasing her by calling her his future wife and saying that one day they would marry, and always being gawky and clumsy and not caring about it, and her hand never strayed from his, and she always felt so brave when by his side, and they were equals.

And now ... now he’s one of the most handsome men Alice has ever seen. Now, Noah is tall, lean, and graceful. His face is all but perfect. His arms are strong and toned. His skin is smooth and clear. His black hair is a row of neat lopsided spikes on top of an even neater undercut, and the golden glow of the sun is giving it a mirror sheen. His clothes — the snow-white trainers, the expertly fitted black jeans, the ironed polo shirt — are immaculate. His voice is warm and mellow. He looks and sounds so confident, so composed. And his smile is dimpled and easy, and he is not her best friend anymore, and Noah is his own man.

Now Alice is all too aware how his thigh brushes against hers, and she can barely breathe, and she can barely focus, and she can barely manage not to let her coffee spill or to choke on her words, and she can barely notice anything at all except for how beautiful he looks, although she’s known him all her life and never ever noticed.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

Alice’s reply is an eloquent, “Huh?”

“How are you holding up?”

Alice thought that he would never come back; his eldest brother, Eddy, left the island, his older sister Aaliyah, having spent a few years away and tasted of the outside world, has been thinking of leaving for good, too, and likely would do so soon. Alice thought that he would never come back, so she let him go. Or so she thought. She did her best to feel happy for him; a new and exciting life awaited him out there. Or so she told herself.

Then he came back, changed.

Instead of ‘good’ or ‘same old’ she blurts out a “Why?”

Terrified of conflicts, she avoids them at all costs. Habitually bracing for impact, Alice winces; the word came out sounding harsher than she intended. She’s about to follow it up with a desperate ‘Nevermind, I mean, it’s fine, everything is great, just livin’ life, you know, uh, thanks for asking, how are you?’ making use of the fact that he’s taking a sip — when Noah briskly lowers the cup, turns his head, and the phrase gets stuck in her throat.

She’s staring at his stylish, minimalist, browline-rimmed glasses, this tiny chin cup beard, and the thin and tidy patch under his plump lower lip. Since when—

He takes a deep breath, as if he’s about to dive. “I’m sorry, Allie. ‘Tis the season, so I know that you’re busy, and I know that this is why we haven’t gotten a chance to properly talk and hang out and all.” Noah’s voice is low, and soft as velvet, and Alice finds herself wishing she could listen to it for hours. Isn’t it the same voice he’s had since his teenage years? He couldn’t have changed his voice, as well, could he? “I know, I get it, and I hope it’s okay that I dropped by. But I just— I’ve recently gotten this feeling that you’re avoiding me. Tell me I’m paranoid?” His forehead creases; Noah tilts his head to the side, with a small, sheepish smile.

Her lips unpin. “You’re—”

It was Noah who seemed like the busy one. After his return, Alice has been watching from the sidelines — or shadows — of the tavern’s hall, not approaching. Only a couple of times, though. Mostly, she’s been hearing things about him, and, judging by these things, he was indeed a new man. The way others described him, calling him suave, witty, charming, full of energy, but also responsible, level-headed, thorough, slow, mature ... felt alienating.

Noah inherited a family business alongside his brother, and, by all indications, took to it as a duck to water. He keeps it running smoothly, is doing books and handling suppliers now, and gets along well with Frank.

Alice inherited a family business alongside her sister, and it’s a never-ending, slow-motion nightmare. Always stressed and strained, Alice can hardly deal with the simplest, most mundane tasks, and Suki gets mad at her every single day.

She and Noah used to be equals, allies, and accomplices. After his return, she couldn’t help but feel inferior to him, couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she was only slowing him down.

She’s supposed to act polite and to say to this confident, strange, handsome man, ‘Of course you’re being paranoid. Please don’t worry. How’s work? How’s your mom doing?’ And she’s about to spell out this white lie, but—

“I just miss you a lot, Allie,” he adds so quickly and quietly that she needs to strain in order to hear him.

Noah was never a skilled liar, but what if he’s grown out of this, too?

“You ... miss me?”

Her body feels like a shell of lead, and the sound of the ocean and the beating of her heart suddenly become deafening as she meets his gaze.

Everything else about him seems so different. Noah looks like a carefree supermodel now, but his eyes are as earnest as they have always been. Deep and kind and soulful, and just a little mischievous as he quirks an eyebrow; it’s the same eyes she remembers. Is this an illusion?

Or is it truly the same boy who taught her to swim?

“Like crazy.”

She and Noah started growing apart long before his departure. His dad passed away, then Eddy left, then Frank got married and moved out, then Aaliyah’s conflicts with Betty started. Noah was trying as hard as he could to be there for what remained of his family. And Alice barely had a spare minute, what with all of that inheriting-the-hotel business and taking classes online ... Whenever she and Noah had time to meet and talk at all, they only talked of how stressed and wrung out they both were, and half-assedly joked about how much they both wanted to be abducted by aliens so that there’d be no need to deal with any of this, but aliens favored big cities and continuously ignored their corner of the world, and those meetings were growing more and more scarce. Then he left... She could not blame him. She did not blame him, not for a single second.

Lately, there have been days which Alice spent in complete silence, having said zero words to zero people. She’s come to consider days like that positive. They’re less tiring. No words means no conflict, or at least it means a one-sided conflict which is destined to fizzle out soon. No words means no shallow small talk, no empty questions about how she’s doing, coming from people who don’t actually care how she’s doing.

Alice hasn’t felt relaxed in ages. She’s so tired. She is tired of feeling like a failure. Tired of feeling out of place, like an outsider in her own home, tired of feeling that nothing she does is good enough, tired of being told off for every single transgression, tired of living in her sister’s shadow. She is so tired of—

“Allie?”

—of having no one to talk to about how tired she is.

“I was, Noah. I was avoiding you. I’m ... so sorry. But I—” Words rise to her throat, words spill and spill and spill out of her in batches. Much like pearls and spherical rubies out of the mouths of half the townsfolk did, during that nasty epidemic last year, one which gave Yuri and Charles so much trouble and a lasting addiction to coffee.

The stream seems never-ending, but it doesn’t feel like an ailment. It feels like it used to, long ago, when his presence was making her brave. Alice tells him what she’s heard about him, she speaks of all the praise and compliments the townspeople have been directing at him, and how she got an impression that the things which she never had the strength or confidence to do, he now does effortlessly.

“I just felt like I had nothing to offer anymore, like maybe you were avoiding me, because you’re so brilliant, and all I can do is—”

Noah laughs. He laughs, and his deep, braying laughter, so familiar, so forgotten, resonates inside her with a nameless ache. She missed this sound so much. She missed his unabashed, white-tombstone smile, his dimples, and the way the skin around his eyes crinkles. He laughs, and it’s a dam to the stream.

Silent, mesmerized, she watches him. Alice is terrified of conflicts; Noah used to de-escalate conflicts and any tense situations in seconds, with a smile on his face. No, not ‘used to’—

“Oh Gh-awd, Allieeeee.” Pinching them by a corner, Noah raises his glasses and wipes a tear of mirth off his left eyelid. “And here I thought— First of all, you know they’re praising you just as much, right? Ohhh dearest Alice, always so polite, so composed and patient, so dutiful and respectful! Just the other day I overheard Wataru using you as an example to shame his son. His son is a goddamn STEM academic! Who, by the way, says he doesn’t ‘believe’ in aliens, as if that’s a question of belief, but that’s beside the point... Secondly, we both got stuck in the hospitality business, come on, you must be aware by now that it’s a crapshoot that’s all about window dressing! Horeca is hell. But you gotta fake it till you make it, and, you know, we gotta show visitors a good time and be there for them, there’s no choice, because our families depend on this, on us. But did you really think— I’m sorry. Allie, I’m so sorry. But come on. Come o-on! Even if I was this brilliant and suave hero, which I’m so not, I assure you, you know it wouldn’t have changed a thing, right? Like I would leave you in the dust to be all high and mighty?! We were buddies, you and I, we were— We are. I would never, not in a million years, think less of you, for whatever reason, I would never want us to stop being buddies. You’re amazing, you’re legit the best person in the world, precisely ‘cause you hate window-dressing, you’re so real, no one gets me like you do. Come on, I know you, don’t you know me? I’m still me, and you’re still you, and no matter what, it’s gonna be you and me, because that’s just the way it is.”

Someone else in his place would have acted offended or annoyed at her presumptuousness. Someone else would have scolded her. Someone else would have clicked their tongue, formed a grimace, and shaken their head ... Alice is speechless. Not fumbling for words, not avoiding words, not scared of words. It’s not some stranger. It’s him, it’s Noah.

Noah, who taught her to swim and to count.

Noah, whom she taught to read and write and to ride a bicycle.

The same Noah whom she stole Frank’s moped with — and then they crashed it while learning to drive. Together.

It’s the same man she’s known all her life, possessing the same unshakeable confidence and faith in their friendship.

While she almost threw it away. If not for this moment of bravery— Alice feels like a fool. She feels like a child who got scared of her own shadow.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” she mutters.

“I do.” Tilting sideways, he nudges her shoulder with his own, and the gesture is as familiar to Alice as her own breathing. “‘Cause you’re tired A-F, that’s why.”

The feeling of relief is so intense that for a moment Alice is worried her bones will melt.

The silence which follows is not strained in the slightest. It’s as comfortable as a warm blanket on a cold and stormy night. It’s the silence of two people who know each other so well, they barely need to worry about talking. With but a hint of concussed silence.

For a time, they sit sipping their coffee, looking at the water, listening to the gentle, steady cadence of the waves. Alice remembers; this is not the first time the two of them are on this pier. They used to spend hours here, as kids. Although never in silence.

“So. Tourists being a pain?” he finally pipes up. Alice turns just in time to see him adjusting his glasses again. Do they not fit well or is it a nervous habit?

“No. I mean, yes, I mean it’s—” This time, she does stutter. They say he is the perfect son. They say Betty is the luckiest mother on the island. Alice has no trouble believing this, and a small part of her is still reluctant and cautious in regards to his boundaries. He hasn’t badmouthed his family directly since the two of them were angsty hormonal teenagers. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, in what unmistakably is a nervous habit, she starts, “I’m grateful to Suki. She keeps the business running, she’s always so determined, full of energy. She’s a problem solver. She’s my sister and I lo—”

“Don’t,” interrupts Noah briskly, startling her. “Don’t do that.”

“D-do what?” She turns her head to find him looking at her not with a judgmental crease in his brow, but with a small sardonic smile.

“Come on, Allie, it’s me. You don’t need to preface a rant with excuses. Just say it, say what’s on your mind. Go nuts.”

She has been apologizing and groveling, sometimes in advance, trying to appease so many people, to explain herself, for as long as she can remember. With Noah, she never felt the need to do that. Why start now?

“She’s pushy, Noah, she’s pushy, and it’s so hard on me,” Alice breathes out on a long exhale, peering right into his eyes.

And just like that, words start to flow from her again. Alice talks about the many little things that bother her, that wear her out. The phone calls she hates making, ones Suki insists she makes. Suki ordering her about, Suki making decisions for them both without Alice ever being consulted, Suki calling her out in public, or demonstratively humiliating her by asking strangers for advice on what Alice needs to do — rather than discuss the issue in private or just let her off the hook. Suki berating her whenever she believes her inefficient; telling her off for not working as fast as she works, for not doing as much as her. Suki saying things like, ‘It’s time you learned how to put your foot down and take charge of things, or at least how to hold a pen right!’ or ‘What’s wrong with you today? Can’t you do a simple math sum?! What are you, five?’ or ‘Chop-chop! It’s fine to be a klutz from time to time, but if you keep on slacking, you’ll let the whole family down!’

Alice talks about feeling like a failure — while at the same time starting to believe that she isn’t. She talks about how much she wants to stop feeling like a failure, because she knows she isn’t. Noah listens almost without interjecting. He nods along, in acknowledgment, and once in a while manifests a scowl or an ‘Oof’. He’s right there with her, he knows what’s expected of her, of them, and he relates. There is no doubt in her mind anymore.

It’s so liberating to talk about it all openly, and witness no judgment. It’s exhilarating.

In a few words, a few gestures, and through his sheer presence, he grounds her, puts her back together, and imparts some of that bravery in the way only he knows how.

“It’s hard to love them, sometimes. I know.” His voice is low, and it trembles. The smile on his face is fragile; Noah is looking down at his knees, at the water below the pier, at his cup.

She finally notices, behind the beautiful veneer, and the stylish glasses, how puffed up his eyelids are from lack of sleep. This small detail strikes her. Alice’s chest constricts, her stomach clenches. Noah is just as tired. He’s exhausted.

He’s not some superhuman, and the past two and a half years were just as hard on him. And he had no one to confide in, either.

“Noah,” she whispers, poking him in the shoulder, while at the same time registering the puzzling and alluring wish to cup his cheek instead — something she’s never done; a gesture that is so not them . “Your turn. Go nuts.”

Tossing his head up, he snorts. “You’re not gonna believe this, but it’s a-all the same shit—”

Alice listens to him talk about customers and suppliers, as rowdy and capricious as the ones she deals with; about how he handles them, and how tiring it is at times to keep a straight face, to be friendly and welcoming when all he wants is to strangle a dude. About equipment breaking down, about the days when everything at once goes wrong.

She listens, hoping that for him, as well, a shared burden would no longer be as heavy.

“Remember how we were teens, talking shit, saying all of the time about how we want to leave? That we hated the world and hated the island?”

But did not hate one another.

“Ow, man. Leaving is just not an option, even if I wanted to. But I had to go and learn and bust my ass for two years at uni, just to get a solid grip on how things oughta be handled, ‘cause I had no other choice, it was me or no one else, otherwise that mess of a tavern would have collapsed, now I’m bustin’ my ass here, but they—”

He talks about his family, for a long while. Noah tells her of how Betty still perceives and treats him as her baby boy, despite him being an adult and, by all known definitions, the most responsible sibling of them all, the one who always looks out for them; he talks of Aaliyah being moody and full of doubt, and getting into fights with their mom; about Frank’s devil-may-care attitude and the stupid experiments he pulls in the kitchen, trying to ‘expand’ the menu and fix what isn’t broken.

“And my sister-in-law is using me as a lab rat, and I let her, ‘cause she’s family now. But I swear, in comparison to everything else, that’s an upside, and—”

“Wait, what?” Alice stops him short, rewinding. “Lab rat? For what?”

“Everything.” Shrugging, Noah rubs the patch under his lower lip, with the pad of his thumb. “Hair and whatnot.”

Reclining, Alice freezes and stares at him, at the side of his head, at the neat, precise line-up. Suddenly, she’s wishing to run her hand over his undercut, just to find out if that neatly trimmed stubble would tickle. To learn what it feels like under her fingers. His hair used to be such a long shaggy mess...

“Everything?”

She sees his hand move in slow-motion. Noah aims to raise it to her face, but then stops midway, as if unsure. Alice holds her breath. Her heart is beating fast. He lowers his hand and fiddles with the lid of his empty cup instead.

A gentle breeze brushes past them, tugging at the hem of Alice’s blouse, flapping the collar of Noah’s shirt. She draws in a sharp breath as, distracted, she’s lost track of, well, everything.

The tempo of the ocean waves is speeding up. The tide is rising.

“Uuh, yup, everything. Nails and skin and all. Lucky for me, she’s a decent stylist.” His eyebrows jump, and she sees that they’ve been trimmed or plucked too. “So how’s my new look? Do I look like a proper douchebag?”

“Not even a little.”

“No douchebag vibes, even? So much for all the crap that sister’s put me through.”

Shaking her head, Alice lets out a solitary chuckle which instantly turns into a fit of laughter. Eyes roving over her features, Noah joins her, and it feels so good to laugh with him again. So right.

“Aww, poor you. I should drop by Erika’s and save you by heroically volunteering myself,” she teases, still laughing.

“My sister-in-law might be a decent stylist, but even she can’t improve perfection,” Noah counters, and for an additional second that grin is still stretching his face, before faltering and then flattening.

So does hers as the words sink in. Noah’s lips remain unsealed. He does not turn away. Instead, he holds her gaze. Eyes wide open, Noah is looking straight at her.

This is brand new. Completely new and unexplored.

Alice can feel heat rising to her cheeks, and she’s certain that it shows. She’s certain that he can hear her pulse pounding wildly in her veins; she feels like her heart is about to break out of her ribcage and jump right at him, and maybe a part of her wishes for Noah to keep looking at her like this forever, and, for another fleeting moment, she wants nothing more than to grab the collar of his shirt and to pull him close and taste his stupidly perfect mouth ... Exhaling, Alice ducks her head, hiding behind her hair, hoping that the sun will mask her blush.

Meanwhile, she can hear him clear his throat. Noah’s hand lands on her shoulder and squeezes it, and rocks her gently. “Anyway. It gets better. It’ll get better, Allie. We’ll pull through. We’ll make it, you and I.”

De-escalated.

But what if she doesn’t want him to fully de-escalate it?

Following an overwhelming, courage-fed impulse, Alice leans into him and wraps her free arm around his upper back, and nuzzles into his shoulder.

His breath catches. It takes him a few moments to relax, but he does: she can feel his lean muscles uncoil, can feel him ease into her half-embrace. Noah’s hand slips around her lower back.

“Noah.”

“Mhm?”

“I don’t actually hate the island. I never have.”

“Me neither. I love the island. I do hate you a little now, though,” he mumbles into the top of her head.

“Yeah. I hate you too.”

“Allie.”

She feels him shift; he is looking at her now.

“Mhm?”

“I have an idea. We both need a goddamn break. Let’s ditch our joints today. Let’s go somewhere.” Noah sounds resolute and gentle at the same time.

“Where?” Alice asks, but doesn’t dare raise her eyes to look into his.

“Does it matter?”

“I suppose not. But I’d have to tell Suki, and I—”

He squeezes his arm around her back. “It’s just an afternoon, Allie. We’re all grown up now, we don’t need to ask for permission.”

“But Suki is expecting me to—”

“Suki. Will. Be. Fine.”

Alice takes a deep breath, still nuzzling into his neck. He smells so good. Like fresh laundry, and a hint of cedar, but mostly, he smells like Noah. Like courage, like mischief and promises of an adventure, like venturing into the exciting unknown; like that low thrum of joy in her heart, so familiar, so forgotten. Like home.

“Flower-spotting?” he pitches, and she’s finally feeling brave enough to draw away and look at him.

His smile is now so sheepish that it would make any other man seem bashful. It just makes Noah appear boyish and sweet.

“I’d love to.”

Looking away, Noah runs a hand through his hair, messing up his perfectly tidy spikes, and Alice can see that his palm is trembling, ever-so-slightly. “Remember how we went flower-spotting that one time and I did something stupid that I shouldn’t have done—”

“You kissed me,” she whispers. Was that stupid? Alice’s heart falls; she did not expect it to react with so much intensity.

But then he starts speaking again. “Allie, the stupid thing was, I ran away. So if I—” Taking a deep breath, he finishes, “I’m not stupid anymore. I’m not gonna do stupid things again, because—”

Interrupting him, someone materializes right on the pier in a rustling vortex of pink petals, and then, to Alice’s utter relief, leaves in a haste — right away, without saying a word to either of them or even acknowledging their presence. And yet. So rude.

Noah slaps his knees, gets up, and offers her his hand. “Let’s go.”

As he pulls her away by the wrist, the way he used to do when they were kids, Alice suddenly understands the cause behind that mysterious anticipation. Why she was waiting for a miracle.

She remembers now. When the alarm woke her up, she was dreaming of him.

#I saw your other requests; thank you #I think I'll get to them after Nano though #my writing updates #requests #coral island fanfic #noah coral island #alice coral island #fanfiction #writing #coral island

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