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severalforraelee · 1 year ago

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The Girls Part 15: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Photo credit to Mario Renzi / Formula 1 / Getty Images

Word count: 3,167

Written by raelee / Posted Nov 3

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“That lady at table seven is being a downright bitch,” I mumble to Kylie while putting a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“What has gotten into you today?” She questions.

“What do you mean?”

“You said that the man at table two’s rude behavior is a defense mechanism for his micropenis. You’re never this negative, Y/N, what’s going on?”

I take a deep breath, mentally debating whether I want to tell her or not. But the urge to tell someone how I’m feeling outweighs my desire for privacy.

“Okay, you can’t tell anyone,” I begin.

She leans in closer at the words, an inquisitive look on her face.

“Charles and I sort of kissed this weekend.”

She gasps and I pause, thinking. “Well, kissed twice.”

She gasps louder this time, causing a nearby chef to look at us. I smile at him and he smiles back, returning to his current task.

“Tell me everything,” she grabs my hands in excitement.

“The first kiss was at the girls’ birthday party when we were cleaning up and it was totally an accident. And then the second kiss was in the hotel room after putting the girls to bed, and that one was on purpose,” I explain.

“And then?” She grins.

“And then what?”

“Are you guys dating now?”

“Uh… no? Yes? I don’t know,” I admit.

“How do you not know?”

“We didn’t exactly get the chance to talk about it.” She gives me a look and I immediately go into defense mode. “Lucy woke up crying as we were kissing, so I comforted her while Charles took a shower and then when he was done I was already asleep!”

“What about in the morning?” She asks.

“He had to go to Italy immediately and we had to catch our flight home,” I share, “And he’s been so busy at work he hasn’t been able to text me and I don’t want to text him first because I have no clue what’s going on. Plus, he’s much better at this emotion stuff than I am.”

I run a hand through my hair and Kylie’s face drops at the obvious stress that I’m feeling.

“I’m sure that he’s just busy,” she tries to reassure me.

“I know, I just don’t want it to be like when we slept together after he came back into our lives and it turned into a big argument,” I sigh.

“I’m sorry, what?” Her eyes widen. “When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I grin, realizing that I never told Kylie about that. Truthfully, I didn’t tell anyone because I was so embarrassed and confused of how it all went down.

“It happened a while ago. Forget that I said anything.”

“Um, after admitting that you slept with your daughters’ father again? I will not forget that.”

I roll my eyes, grabbing the tray of food that was just completed for my table before leaving the kitchen.

“Where are you going? I need to hear everything,” she calls after me.

“Thank you for staying late, Cheyenne,” I say to the young girl as I pull off my coat and hang it on the coat rack.

“Oh, it’s no problem, Y/N. By the way, this package came in the mail for you,” she points to the big cardboard box sitting on the kitchen table.

“Thank you. Have a nice night, text me when you get home.” She smiles, closing the door behind her and I lock it.

The scissors cut open the top of the cardboard box and I open the flaps, finding several items inside. I pull out a small, heart-shaped red box, opening it to find red roses neatly packed inside. A smile appears on my face as I set it off to the side, grabbing three, fuzzy red robes, my name, Ada’s name, and Lucy’s name embroidered on separate ones. Three chocolate bars are the next items to exit the box.

A small note is the last thing to come out of the box. I open it, immediately recognizing Charles’ handwriting.

Mon amour,

I’m sorry that we couldn’t talk about what happened before we both had to leave. I sent you some beautiful roses, chocolate, and robes so that you and the girls could pamper yourselves together. See you soon.

XO,

Charles

I clutch the note close to my chest, a smile pulling at my lips. He’s so sweet.

“Both Frozens?” Ada asks curiously as I load up the TV with the first Frozen movie.

I look at the clock, debating whether we have enough time tonight to watch both Frozen 1 and 2 and get the girls to bed at a decent enough hour where they won’t be cranky tomorrow.

“Let’s see what time it is when we’re done with the first movie,” I suggest. There’s the sound of the key in the front door and I look over, initially in worry then in excitement once I realize who it has to be.

It’s been a while since I’ve lived with another adult. I’m not used to having another person come and go whenever they want- but to be honest, I don’t really have to worry about that with Charles because he likes to spend as much time with the girls as possible and usually where they are, I am too.

“Why don’t you pick out your nail polish color, girls?” I say, pointing towards the box in front of them as I step closer to the front door.

The front door opens to reveal Charles, glasses on his face and a matching sweatsuit on his body. Once he looks up from his suitcase and closes the door, spotting me directly in front of him, his face breaks out into a smile.

“I didn’t know that you would be coming back so soon,” I admit to him, a smile of my own on my face.

“I couldn’t be away for a second longer.” He steps closer, leaving the suitcase behind and pulling me into an embrace. My arms raise up to press against his back as his hands slide down to my lower back, pushing against the plush fabric to press me as close to him as possible.

I step out of the hug, watching as he looks my figure up and down, swallowing at the sight of the red robe.

“What?” I ask, confused and nervous by his reaction.

I can’t tell if it’s a turned on swallow or a realization of a mistake swallow.

“Nothing. I just didn’t realize that these robes were going to be so short,” he confesses, eyes stuck on my legs.

I smile slyly at the comment, turning around and walking back towards the living room. “Come say hi to the girls.”

“Daddy, I’m painting my nails pink,” Ada shoves the nail polish bottle in his face after jumping all over him.

“I’m doing blue,” Lucy shoves her bottle in his face now.

“What? No Ferrari red?” He teases, grabbing their little hands and placing kisses on the back of them.

“Sorry, daddy.” Ada gives him an apologetic look while Lucy just shrugs.

He laughs at that, taking the bottles from their hands and shaking them.

“Can you put your hands on the table for me? I’ll paint your nails,” he says.

I sit back on the couch, watching the scene silently. Charles paints Ada’s nails with the pink polish, then Lucy’s with the blue. He goes back to do another coat, the three chatting quietly while half-heartedly watching Frozen.

I can’t believe I ever doubted that this man would be a good father. It makes me embarrassed that I ever thought that way. Seeing him now, his gentleness with the girls, and the ability to do things that they like with them, matching their excitement, shows me that he was a man that was made to be a father.

No, he was made to be a dad. And a damn good one at that.

“Oh no, mommy,” Lucy looks over at me with wide eyes, then expectantly looking back at the screen.

Frozen has ended.

“Second movie? Please?” Ada begs.

I’m a sucker for my girls when they pout, which they already know, but with Charles joining in it’s hard to deny them much of anything.

“Yes, we can watch Frozen 2,” I agree, grabbing the remote to turn it on. Secretly, I’m excited to watch it as well, and I already know that with the busy day they’ve had at daycare they’re going to fall asleep soon anyways.

“It gives me time to do mommy’s nails,” Charles smiles at me, which I return. I slide onto the floor, selecting a red nail polish bottle out of the box and passing it to Charles.

“Ferrari red, for you.”

By the time he’s done painting my nails, the girls are asleep on the couch, slumped against one another.

“Sorry that you didn’t win the championship,” I apologize quietly as Olaf breaks into a song.

“That’s okay. I have everything that I need already.”

I give him a questioning look.

“All that I need are my girls.”

I can’t hold myself responsible for my actions after that. That is one of the sweetest- if not, the sweetest- things that I’ve ever heard in my life.

I launch myself around the table at him, straddling his hips with my legs as my hands grip his cheeks, pulling his lips to mine. His hands immediately attach to my lower back.

It’s a kiss filled with passion and anticipation, both of us waiting for the other to make a move since he showed up here a couple of hours ago. Now with the girls asleep, we show each other just how much we were missing one another, and express words that were left unspoken from last weekend.

At the sound of shuffling on the couch, I pull back, whipping my head around to make sure that the girls didn’t wake up. They didn’t, just adjusting their position.

I turn back to Charles, resting my forehead against his. His hands run up and down my back.

“You’re so sweet,” I whisper to him.

“Anything for you, mon amour.”

Charles and I sit on the bench in the park, watching as the girls use their buckets and shovels to build snow sculptures.

“Lucy, don’t throw snow at her, please,” Charles calls out to the toddler.

“Okay, daddy,” she calls back. When she thinks that neither of us are looking, she throws a little bit of snow at Ada again.

I can’t help but chuckle and Charles shakes his head, a small smile slipping onto his face.

“She is so your daughter,” I comment.

“My daughter? Lando’s told me quite a few stories about you as a child,” he nudges my shoulder.

“Hey,” I giggle, “So are you and Lando okay now?”

“Yeah, I would say our relationship is almost back to normal.” I see him swallow out of the corner of my eye, looking at me nervously. “Actually, I know one thing that would probably get us back to normal.”

“What’s that?”

“So don’t kill me,” he starts, “But how would you feel going to visit your family for Christmas this year? We can rent a house, we can just go for a couple of hours, whatever you’re comfortable with. But Lando was telling me just how much your family regrets treating you the way that they have and how they really want to see the girls-””Stop,” I interrupt him. “You’ll be there?”

“Of course, I won’t leave your side,” he nods in agreement.

“You’d ditch Christmas with your mom and your brothers to be with my dysfunctional family?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Yes,” he responds instantly, “I’d do that for you, the girls, and Lando.”

“Fine. But if I want to leave, we have to leave as soon as we can,” I warn.

“I’ll go by your rules, mon amour.” He raises my hand connected to his up to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it.

“Mommy, daddy, come play,” Lucy calls out.

Charles lets go of my hand, reaching down to pack the snow into a tight ball, throwing it lightly at Lucy. She squeals when it explodes on her.

“Snowball fight,” he announces, getting up to run over to the girls. I follow his lead, beaming at the squeals and laughter coming from my daughters as Charles and I play with them.

This is the moment that I’ve been dreaming about from the second that I found out that I was pregnant. Family time with just the four of us, playing together, laughing together, and just enjoying each other’s company. I’ve dreamed of just being able to spend time with all of us together, no tension or question marks getting in the way of our family bond.

And now I’m getting it.

Charles squeezes my hand as we stand on the front step of my parents’ house. My gaze remains focused on the white, wooden door, remembering all of the times I ran through it.

To the car of my boyfriend at the time. To the street to go on my daily jog. To the waiting arms of Lando, just returning from a race.

To never return.

“Anytime you want to leave,” he reassures me quietly.

I nod, taking a deep breath and knocking. There’s no going back now.

Flo opens the door, pausing with wide eyes when she sees me.

“Am I not invited?” I ask with a slightly joking tone.

“No, of course you are,” she stutters, taking a step to the side. “We just weren’t expecting you to knock. Please, come in.”

I take a step inside, my heart skipping a beat at her words. We just weren’t expecting you to knock.

“You remember Charles,” I awkwardly gesture towards the man standing next to me.

“Nice to see you again, Charles,” she pulls him into a hug, obviously distracted by the two toddlers standing behind his legs.

“And you remember our daughters, Ada and Lucy,” I introduce the two. I hold my hand out and Lucy steps out from behind her father’s legs, gripping my hand in her own. Shy little Ada remains behind Charles.

“Hi girls, I’m Aunty Flo. I haven’t seen you two in forever,” she coos. Lucy gives her a toothy smile while Ada sucks on her thumb.

It’s true. I haven’t been out to the house, and no one in the family besides Lando, has been out to visit me since the girls were three months old. That was over a year ago. Kids grow fast, but when they’re babies they seem to grow even faster. They went from newborns that you could cradle in your arms to toddlers that can run.

“Come on, everyone else is in the dining room.”

We follow her to the dining room.

“Now remember to just behave yourselves and be kind. It took a lot to convince her to come here, so don’t do anything to scare her off,” the familiar voice of my brother says before we enter the room.

At our entrance, everyone turns to look at us.

“Uh, hi,” I give an uncomfortable wave. Lucky for me, the girls break the tense atmosphere.

“Uncle Lando,” Lucy cheers, running towards one of her favorite people. At her sister’s words, Ada darts from behind Charles’ legs, joining Lucy in jumping on Lando.

“Present?” Ada asks with wide eyes. Lando’s trained them that everytime they see each other, they get a toy or a treat from him.

“Ada, don’t ask Uncle Lando for presents,” I scold.

“It’s okay, I got you girls these,” Lando grins, reaching past them to grab new stacking cups off of the table, handing a stack to each girl.

I roll my eyes. Typical Uncle Lando.

“They’re so big,” a familiar voice whispers. I turn to see my mom standing beside the dining room table, a shocked expression on her face as she watches the girls play.

“Hi darling,” another voice whispers in front of me. My dad pulls me into his arms, and it’s surprisingly not uncomfortable.

I thought since the last two or three years have been so full of tension and avoidance of one another, this would be a much more anxious and strained meeting. But I can’t help but melt into my dad’s arms. Maybe it’s from seeing the father-daughter relationship that Charles has with Ada and Lucy that makes me want to better my relationship with my own father.

I can’t forget everything that he’s said to me. But I can forgive and hope for improvement.

“Hi, Charles.” My dad pulls Charles into a hug next. The driver seems taken aback, but accepts the embrace.

My mom pulls me into a wordless hug. It’s not as comfortable as the one with my dad, I can still hear her shouting ‘whore’ at me in the back of my mind, but I still wrap my arms around her. I greet my siblings before taking a seat next to Lando, Charles sitting in the chair next to me.

“Hi Ada, hi Lucy,” my mom greets my daughters, reaching out to brush her finger along Lucy’s arm. Lucy doesn't react. “I’m your nana.”

Charles and I exchange glances at her word choice. We didn’t discuss how we want Ada and Lucy to refer to my family going into this, but we both know that we aren’t comfortable with my parents being referred to as nana and grandpa after the way they treated me and the girls when they were infants.

“Let’s just stick to Cisca for now, mom,” I state firmly.

She opens her mouth, about to respond, before Oliver nudges her. He nods towards Ada and Lucy, as if to remind her that this is about improving the relationship with her and her granddaughters and her and me. And that starts with respecting my boundaries.

“Okay.”

“Thank you for having us over,” I tell my mom as we stand in the front entrance.

“Oh, anytime. It was great to see you two and the girls again,” she smiles between me and Charles. “I’ll go check on the girls, Cisca and Oliver will help bring them down.”

Charles and I wait for our daughters to be brought down from their naps, tired out from playing with their family members and new presents. I zip up my winter coat in the meantime and Charles finishes pulling on his shoes.

“Hey look, mistletoe,” he points up at the plant.

I giggle, leaning in to give him a peck on his lips.

“Come on, you have to give me more than that.”

A loud laugh escapes me, and I lean forward to give him a much more passionate, longer kiss.

“You know what would be the only thing that would make this Christmas better?” He murmurs against my lips.

“What?”

“If you became my girlfriend.”

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Charles.”

Story completed.

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#charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfiction

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whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk · 1 year ago

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If You’re Lost, Just Look for Me (ao3)

Happy @sjmromanceweek day 4!! ❤️

When Cassian is called away to Illyria for a whole week, Nesta finds her mate has left her something behind - several somethings, in the form of letters hidden throughout the House of Wind. Set post-ACOSF.

Castor looked out across the mountains crowned with snow, feeling the wind caress his wings. It felt like a whisper. Like a kiss— like her kiss, and even though the drums of war were already pounding far below, he could only think of her. Her dark eyes and her midnight hair and the way it curled against the nape of her neck.

The woman he had left behind.

Illyrians weren’t supposed to be romantic. Weren’t supposed to fall hard.

But with the gods as his witness, he looked to the sky and cursed the distance between this rock-strewn battlefield and the bed he’d left both his lover and half his soul behind in. No, Illyrians weren’t supposed to fall hard, but he’d fallen harder than he’d ever expected. Harder than—

“Nesta!”

The silence cleaved beneath a clap, sharp and insistent and followed by the snapping of familiar, paint-stained fingers. The voice echoed through the library as the image in Nesta’s head shattered, like the surface of a lake after the throwing of a rock.

“Are you even listening?”

No.

She wasn’t.

Slowly, Nesta Archeron looked up from the pages of her book. Already scowling - and absolutely not in the mood today - she flicked her eyes over the cloth-bound spine and took in the sight before her. Her sister, standing there with her tattooed hand extended, fingers braced to snap for a third time. Nesta’s brows lowered, and the huff that left her was one she tried only half-heartedly to bury.

“I called your name,” Feyre said, arching one elegant eyebrow now that she had her sister’s attention at last. “Twice.”

Nesta’s attention drifted pointedly back down to the pages of her book. One shoulder lifted in an idle shrug. “I was busy.”

“Clearly.”

The High Lady of the Night Court snorted and leaned a hip against the rolled arm of the sofa that sat opposite Nesta’s own. Her eyes dropped to the front cover of the book Nesta held in her hands, her expression turning to one of soft amusement as she took in the illustration of the shirtless Illyrian warrior, his arms around the shoulders of a young woman whose dress hung half off her slender frame. Feyre pressed her lips together, eyes dancing in a way that Nesta knew meant her sister was trying hard to suppress a small laugh, and any other day…

Any other day, Nesta might have humoured her sister. Might have raised an eyebrow and asked wryly if she wanted to join the Valkyrie Book Club.

Not today, though.

Today Nesta said nothing, only lifted her chin and fixed an expression of indifferent hauteur over her face. Feyre could giggle all she wanted, but the book had been waiting for Nesta when she’d opened her eyes that morning, placed deliberately and carefully on Cassian’s side of the bed. His empty side of the bed— because, thanks to Feyre’s mate, Cassian had left at dawn for a week-long stint in Illyria, and Nesta had been left with nothing but that book propped against his pillow, like it was to serve as his replacement for the next few days.

The House had a sense of humour like that— exchanging one Illyrian warrior for another.

But Nesta would be a liar if she said his absence wasn’t already starting to make her feel like the world had been tipped on its axis, and facing down the prospect of seven whole days without hearing his voice or seeing his eyes or feeling his calloused palms so eager to slide over her skin…

She supposed she could be forgiven for seeking complete distraction from the depths of her books today. Forgiven, too, for her resounding lack of patience.

“I came to see you,” Feyre said breezily as Nesta dropped her eyes back down to the pages still spread open before her. “Since Cassian’s away and all.”

“Yes,” Nesta answered tightly, glowering at the words on the page. “Do thank your mate for that for me.”

Feyre’s eyes danced, her lips straining to contain the smile that threatened to spread across her face. “Cassian wasn’t all that happy about leaving either, if it helps.”

“It doesn’t. Your mate was the one insisting that he go.”

“Rhys didn’t insist,” she countered, plucking at a piece of lint on her sleeve in a gesture so absurdly Rhysand it made Nesta clench her jaw. “He just… reminded Cassian that he can’t be on honeymoon forever.”

Nesta snorted. Honeymoon, indeed. It had been a grand total of six weeks since their mating ceremony. Six.

And now camp inspections had called Nesta’s mate to Illyria, and even though Cassian had been more than content to let them slide, just this once, their oh-so-benevolent High Lord had maintained that they could not allow their grip in the mountains to slip for even a second. Ergo, Rhys had reasoned, Cassian still needed to be seen to be carrying out even the smallest of his duties as general. Ordinarily, Cassian had argued, he wouldn’t hesitate to spend a week in Illyria calling out the faults of the camp lords.

But right now, Rhys? Really?

He had looked pointedly at Nesta as he’d said it, as if hoping to remind Rhys that Cassian had a mate of his own now, and one so newly bonded he could hardly stand to leave for a minute, never mind a week.

But still Rhys had insisted, and so after two days of preparation, Cassian had left that morning, slipping from their bed before the sun had even begun to stain the horizon.

It had made a tinderbox of Nesta’s temper.

She sighed through her nose now, only dimly aware that her sister continued speaking. She caught the odd word— dinner, river house, tomorrow night, but truthfully Nesta just wanted to bury herself in her books until these seven days were up. She couldn’t even count on Azriel for company, since the Shadowsinger was off on one of his missions too.

“Alright,” Feyre said after a solid three minutes of talking to what might as well have been a wall. “I get the hint.” She threw her hands up in surrender. “I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything…”

“I’ll let you know,” Nesta answered blandly.

Feyre nodded once, pushing away from the arm of the sofa and striding across the floor of the House library until she reached the door. She didn’t look back until she reached the threshold, where, with her hand curling around the brass doorknob, Feyre at last looked over her shoulder.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, that ribbon of a smile pushing once more against her lips. “Rhys did say he checked in with Cassian this morning.”

Nesta glowered. “And?”

Feyre’s face softened. “He said to tell you he’s missing you already.”

Nesta blinked, looking up in earnest from the pages of her book. Her throat tightened, and the bond twining around her ribs seemed to clamour, snatching at the second-hand words. She didn’t usually wish she possessed Feyre’s gifts, but on days like this… oh, Nesta wished she could reach out and speak to him, to hear his voice even when he was a thousand miles away.

Before she could tell Feyre to pass along the message that she missed him too, her sister shot her a wink and slipped through that door, leaving Nesta alone with nothing but her silence and her books and the longing surging within her that threatened to crush her beneath its weight.

And she had seven days of this to endure.

Sharply, Nesta huffed.

Stupid— all of it was so immeasurably stupid. Cassian had been gone for a grand total of ten hours, and yet Nesta already felt like she was at sea without him. The House was too quiet, the space beside her too empty, and even though she’d always done perfectly well on her own, always found comfort in solitude… something was different this time. Perhaps because Cassian had been called away when neither of them wanted distance, or perhaps because their lives had slotted together so easily, so simply, that there was no painless way of drawing them apart. Either way, Nesta found that although she usually enjoyed being alone… she enjoyed it best when Cassian was only a room or two away.

“Pull yourself together, Nesta,” she muttered darkly to herself, sitting up straighter against the cushions and clearing her throat. Determined, she forced her attention back to her book, the pages shifting as she adjusted her grip.

And as she did, her fingers loosening on the pages towards the back—

A small square of parchment tumbled out, fluttering down to her lap. From the crisp whiteness of it and the way it was folded, it was clear it wasn’t some old scrap used as a bookmark, and—

It had her name on it.

Nesta’s curiosity piqued, and something in her chest began to grow unbearably tight as every nerve she possessed seemed to shiver with recognition. It smelled familiar, like cinnamon and leather, calling to mind lazy morning kisses and arms wrapping around her from behind to pull her against the chest she had traced every single inch of with her fingers.

It smelled like Cassian.

The familiar scent had her aching, like the fading impression he’d left behind on that note was a ghost slipping through her fingers, barely substantial enough to grasp. But grasp Nesta did, reaching desperately for any lingering piece of him— anything her mate had left her.

Folded, the note was no larger than the palm of her hand, but Nesta looked at her name written in the hand almost as well-known to her as her own - penned with a flourish in ink as dark as the night sky, crisp and sharp - and felt her heart skip several beats as her fingers scrambled to break the small crimson seal.

Hello, Nes, her mate had written.

I’m curious— how long did it take you to find this one? I must have been gone, what, seven hours by now? Maybe eight? Any more and I’ll be disappointed. Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this particular novel. I had Emerie get ahold of it for me, since I figured it might help you remember the Illyrian warrior you have of your own whilst I’m away.

Anyway, I know you’ll already be going out of your mind without me there, but like the perfect mate that I am, I’ve thought of the perfect way to remind you how much I love you, just in case you forget. I know I told you I’ve been spending these past two days preparing to leave for Illyria, but I’ve also been hiding some of these little notes throughout the House for you to find— and what better hiding place than deep within the pages of a book?

You know I’ll miss you every second I’m away, sweetheart, and I know it’s not much, but you always said you wanted me to write you love letters so… here I am. It’s taken me an age to hide them all - you really do have too many books, sweetheart - but when I get home you can tell me all about how diverting I am, and how wonderfully I compare to the heroes in your books.

Love you!

P.S - The notes aren’t all in your books. Can’t make it too easy for you, can I, princess?

It was remarkable how quickly Nesta’s sour mood dissipated.

Something in her chest lifted— like the great, uncomfortable weight that had settled behind her ribs when Cassian had left that morning was lifted a little, just enough to let her see the sun behind the clouds. A delighted laugh bubbled to her lips as she read the note again— and again, just to savour each word.

It was such a tiny thing, so small and innocuous, that little scrap of paper bearing her name.

And yet it was a thing beyond value; immeasurable proof that she was loved and cared for and wanted, and that even as Cassian had prepared to drag himself away from their home, she had been the only thing at the forefront of his mind.

Nesta brushed her fingers lightly across the page, a tender smile blossoming at the corners of her mouth. She could practically feel Cassian winking at her, teasing her like he hadn’t gone away at all, and the arrogance dripping from every word he’d written was enough to make her breathe another quiet laugh.

You can tell me all about how diverting I am, and how wonderfully I compare to the heroes in your books.

Nesta snorted. Cassian had found a way to bridge the distance between them and had used it as an opportunity to peacock. She might have rolled her eyes had her gaze not snagged on that brief love you! at the end, and the single kiss he’d scored into the paper.

Nobody had ever told Nesta they loved her— not really, not the way Cassian did.

And so it meant the world and more to her now, every single time it he said it. It made her soften in the way she only ever did for him, so entirely disarmed by his charm and irreverence and faultless dedication.

And gods, he’d found her an Illyrian romance.

Nesta supposed such things were few and far between, given how opposed to such things the Illyrians were, and she’d assumed that the House had been the one to leave it out for her, but no— it was Cassian who had somehow, with Emerie’s help, gotten hold of it and left it out for her, along with the note buried inside. Along with several notes, apparently, like he simply hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of leaving without first having found a way of letting her know, every single day, that he loved her even to distraction.

Love you!

It warmed some long-neglected corner of her heart, breathed life back into the pieces of her she’d thought too far gone for anyone to revive, and as Nesta glanced up at the shelves running along the walls of the House library, not for the first time when it came to her mate did she feel a sense of depthless wonder sparking inside.

There were… hundreds of them.

Thousands of pages Cassian might have secreted a letter between.

It was almost daunting, almost seemed impossible, but Nesta looked once more at the note in her hands, lingering on that last love you! scrawled at the bottom of the page.

And when the House rather pointedly slid one of those old books out an inch from its shelf, Nesta glanced up to the ceiling with a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. Rising to her feet and placing the Illyrian romance down gently on the low table before the hearth, she said,

“Well, then. We’d better start looking.”

***

Three hours yielded only one more letter.

Every other volume Nesta had pulled from the shelves had been empty, and though she flicked through page after endless page, she came away with nothing. With the sun beginning to set and a line of shelves stretching before her still waiting to be searched, Nesta might have given up. Might have— had the singular note she had found not been enough to keep her going, to keep the fire inside her burning.

Sweetheart, it began.

I honestly think I might kill Rhys for making me leave. I get his point— especially after the shit the camp lords pulled this spring, it won’t hurt to reassert our authority. Trust me, I’ll be making Devlon crawl by the end, but gods fucking spare me, I can think of a thousand things I’d rather be doing instead, and every single one of them includes you. I can hardly bear the thought of being so far away from you— not hearing your voice each night before I sleep. The truth is that nothing feels right without you, and my darling brother is going to wish he’d never been born when I’m through with him, I swear.

You and Feyre can tease me as much as you want princess, but I admit it. I’m lost without you— an Illyrian baby through and through. And I suppose I’m a filthy liar too, sweetheart, because you’re in the room with me right now as I write this, sitting there reading one of your novels - by the way, have I told you how much I love the way you bite your lip when you’re reading? - under the impression that I’m currently writing out lists of instructions to hand to the camp lords. I’m not writing instructions at all. I’m writing this, and praying you don’t come look over my shoulder and ruin the fun before it starts.

All this is to say… I love you, Nesta.

I don’t think I’ve said it enough. A hundred times a day wouldn’t be enough, and I promise that as soon as these seven days are over, I’ll be back by your side showing you exactly how much I missed you. Until then…

Always yours,

Cassian.

She’d had to sit down for a minute after reading that one, especially once she reached always yours.

Hers— yes, he was hers.

It almost didn’t matter that the sun was dropping towards the horizon now, that it had been hours since she’d found that last letter. Didn’t matter either, Nesta thought as she knelt within a circle of discarded books, that there was an endless number still to search through.

He was hers.

The words had something clicking, a spark in her memory.

The words aren’t all in your books, Cassian had written as a post-script in that initial letter.

Can’t make it too easy for you, can I, princess?

And Nesta remembered, too, how Azriel had sat in the small sitting room a level below three nights ago, a book in his own hands as the night grew darker and the hour grew later. Nesta had been curled in a chair of her own, only barely paying attention. She had only really noticed the Shadowsinger at all because Cassian had leaned down and whispered in her ear,

‘See, Nes? That’s what a real book looks like.’

The book in question had been some dry non-fiction, thick as brick, and Nesta hadn’t even bothered to really note the title beyond a couple of cursory words, but…

Slowly, recognition began to skitter up her spine. He wouldn’t, she thought carefully, taking in the piles of books surrounding her, all of them having yielded nothing. Surely he wouldn’t.

Except…

This was Cassian, the man with a mischievous spirit who took nothing seriously. His two most favourite things in the world seemed to be teasing her and riling Azriel. Of course he’d decide that one of Azriel’s books would serve as a perfect hiding place for one of his notes.

Of course he would.

Nesta breathed a somewhat bemused sigh, running a hand over her hair. She shook her head, feeling the bond singing in her chest as she pushed to her feet. It hummed like a just-plucked harp string, vibrating as she swept from that library and stalked instead for the sitting room. And as she pushed open the door, praying Azriel had left his book behind, Nesta could have sworn she felt the faintest glimmer of laughter down that bond, like a broad hand dragged, comforting, down her spine.

***

The Continent: Geopolitics and Relations with Northern Prythian still lay on the cushion of the chair Azriel had occupied that night, like the Shadowsinger still planned to return for it. A white ribbon peeked above the pages, marking his place, and as Nesta lifted the book in hand, she felt certain that ribbon was one of the Valkyrie ribbons— one of the many they’d tried and failed to cut in those early days, protesting the impossibility, only to have Cassian or Azriel step up and slice the thing in half with ease.

Bastards.

Nesta flicked the end of that ribbon, watching it sway as she held the book balanced in her palm. The thing was heavy, and so dense she didn’t know how the Spymaster had managed to spend hours, without pause, reading it the other night.

A real book, Cassian had called it.

Not for the first time, Nesta snorted. She sank into the chair by the empty hearth, turning the pages of that great tome one by one, and for a long time there was nothing. Chapters and chapters of absolutely nothing. But when Nesta reached the very last chapter…

There, pressed between the pages, tucked right against the spine.

In the low light, her name winked against the stark white of the folded note. It had been penned in large letters on the front, and beneath it - in Cassian’s hand - was written: Azriel— if you’ve somehow found this note before Nesta, fuck off and put it back where you found it.

She could almost hear Cassian’s tone, could practically see the spark that would have danced in his eyes. The bond tugged as her heart lurched, and unable to resist the smile that crept across her own face, Nesta put the book down on a side table and unfolded his next letter.

Nes— I knew you’d find this one.

I figured I’d take this opportunity to draw your attention to something other than smut, just in case you’re getting bored of all those filthy novels of yours. Lesser men might be concerned, sweetheart, but don’t worry. I know exactly how much you like all the things I can do with my hands, and I don’t think your books could do that quite as well as me, could they? How about I give you a reminder once I get home?

In the meantime, maybe you should try branching out and reading something else for once. I promise there’s no sex in this one.

Nesta snorted.

And Az, the note continued at the bottom, if you’ve read this far then I’m going to punch you in the ribs when I get home.

***

On it went, days spent trawling through the library and the House sitting rooms, bookshelf after bookshelf plundered in search of Cassian’s notes. By day four, three more had joined the pile Nesta kept tucked in the pockets of her dress. The first was brief and quick, a short love you, Nes, that had made her heart swell. The second was found in one of his history books - see Nes? Told you I’d get you reading real books one day! was the opener - and had almost brought her to tears when she read what turned out to be an account of their history hidden away inside. Here’s a story for you, princess, about a fearsome general and the wondrous woman who brings him to his knees, he’d written.

I think I knew you were mine from that very first day. And I loved every piece of you, even then.

And the third— well, the third Nesta had found slotted between the pages of one of her steamier romances, hiding in a chapter so racy it had made even her cheeks burn when she’d first read it. His note was brief— just a single line.

How about we try this when I get home?

It had all but set her alight, and had carried her through a full day and night since, but now…

The cold was starting to creep in, a chill lingering through the House as the sun went down. Five days he’d been gone— five, and with nobody to turn to now, Nesta found herself feeling exactly as she had when he’d first gone away. The House seemed cold without him, like even it had arrived at the begrudging conclusion that part of its integral makeup was missing without him there. Goosebumps skittered over Nesta’s arms as darkness fell, and she couldn’t help the scowl that fitted itself across her brow. Usually, if she happened to be cold, Cassian would be there, lingering at her side, ready to pull her into his arms at a moment’s notice to lend her some of his heat.

Cassian had never once let her go cold.

Even the notes couldn’t warm her now, she thought, dragging her fingers across that brief love you, Nes. Five days of missing her mate were starting to leave their mark, like a knife across her ribs, and every time she so much as thought of the distance between them and the two days still left to get through, it made her curse her decision to stay behind— to let him go without her.

As if sensing the cold was beginning to bother her, the House immediately started a fire in the grand hearth that occupied much of the wall opposite the windows. But Nesta shook her head. It wasn’t enough, wasn’t nearly enough.

It wasn’t heat she sought, but comfort too.

And there was only one place she could get that now.

Before the cold could sink any further into her bones, Nesta marched to their bedroom— down the stairs and through the hallway, spurred on by her purpose until she was standing before the doors to the wardrobe standing in the left corner of their bedroom.

His wardrobe.

The faelights in their sconces glowed a little brighter as she opened the wardrobe doors. Within, Nesta found the usual piles of polished flying leathers sitting neatly on the various shelves, and a number of simple tunics and shirts in dark colours hanging from the rail. Cassian’s scent was almost overpowering, so potent that if she closed her eyes she might almost have been able to convince herself he was standing before her.

But her heart kicked in protest, like the mirage of him wasn’t enough.

Nesta trailed her fingers over those shirts, letting that cinnamon-and-leather scent wash over her, thinking of all the times she had unbuttoned those shirts, button by button, to reveal inch after inch of perfect golden-brown skin. She wished she could run her hands over him now, feel his heat sinking into her, chasing away the cold. She wished she could see that cocky smile, and hear his booming laugh, and—

Gods.

For her own damned sanity, she pushed the thought away.

Instead Nesta picked through that wardrobe in search of something else, until her hands found something softer, something older. Hanging towards the back, an old jumper that was oversized and soft brushed her skin, the colour a faded burgundy that might once have been bright. It was something Cassian wore only on the days where neither of them planned on leaving the House; those rare lazy days where they wouldn’t rise from bed until the sun was high in the sky, and even then, they wouldn’t make it far. It was the jumper he wore as Nesta lounged against his chest, turning the pages of her book as his fingers played with her hair.

Comfort.

That was what she wanted - needed - more than anything else. To be wrapped up in something soft, to drown in the scent of him that would have to carry her through two more days. If he couldn’t keep her warm himself, well, then this would have to do in his stead.

Nesta tugged the jumper from the hanger, relishing its weight and thickness in her fingers, and when she pulled it free of the wardrobe, she really didn’t know why she was surprised when, there, secured with a small pin, was another of his notes.

Are you missing me that much, princess?

Gods, he knew her like the back of his own damned hand.

She supposed Rhys hadn’t appointed him general for nothing, but Cassian had predicted her every movement, her every want and need. He had known, her mate had known, that Nesta would come here in search of something to bring her comfort. The bond between them seemed to shiver, and lightly she tugged on it— a quiet I love you in the only language they had left to them now.

Almost immediately, he tugged back.

Nesta removed the pin from the jumper and pulled it over her head. The sleeves were so big she had to roll them up thrice before her hands were free, but when she was entirely wrapped up in the scent of him, she looked back down at the note in her hand.

By the way, it said at the bottom, I love it when you wear my clothes. You have no idea how much I wish I could be the one keeping you warm but since I can’t… Promise me you’ll wear this again for me when I get home?

Nesta sighed softly, bittersweet. She missed him— more than anything, she missed him. She didn’t have the energy anymore to pretend she wasn’t counting down the hours until he was returned to her, and with nothing else left, Nesta made her way back to the library, taking his scent deep into her lungs and burying her fingers in the soft fabric of his jumper.

She tugged lightly on the bond as she went, just one more time.

And as she reached the doors of the library overlooking the city, it pulled back— a long, slow drag. Nesta didn’t need notes or Feyre’s gifts to know exactly what it meant, that protracted brush along the bridge between their souls. In no uncertain terms her mate was trying to say,

I miss you.

***

The duke threw up his hands in defeat, one hand fisting over his heart as though he had been driven half to madness. Clio felt her own heart thud, and as he took a step closer, she didn’t balk.

“Don’t you see how wild you drive me?” he demanded, all pretence of propriety vanished.

He was undone, a nobleman reduced almost to nothing, unravelling before her, and—

A low laughed echoed through the library.

Every sense Nesta possessed seemed to fail as she was startled out of her latest book, the world itself falling silent as that laugh swept across the back of her neck like the softest, most decadent of touches. Deep inside her chest, a match burst into flame.

“All the things I taught you, and yet still you’re oblivious to everything around you when you have your head stuck in a book.”

The honeyed voice sounded at her ear, right behind her, and though the words weren’t quiet, the tone was delectably soft, like velvet. It was a voice that seemed to sing to the deepest part of her, that resonated right through to her bones— and one she had sorely, sorely missed these past five days.

Her mate’s voice.

Nesta turned her head, wondering if she had finally gone mad or just started to hallucinate. But no— there he was, hands braced on the back of the sofa either side of her shoulders, powerful fingers curling in the cushions as he leaned into her space, lips parting in a lupine grin as his wind-tangled hair draped itself across his forehead.

“Cassian—“ Nesta started, blinking in surprise as her fingers grew slack, her book falling unnoticed into her lap. “You’re early! Nobody told me you were coming home today—“

His grin grew wider, sharper. For a moment Nesta was too stunned to move, blinking furiously as she stared into those glimmering hazel eyes. But when she recovered her senses enough to rise to her feet, Cassian’s palms came down firmly on her shoulders, pinning her in place.

“Surprise,” he whispered, lips against the shell of her ear.

Standing behind the sofa and leaning over the back of it to bury his face in her neck, Cassian didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry. His hands drifted from her shoulders, tucking an errant piece of hair behind her ear before dragging it down the edge of her jaw to skim her collarbone, brushing the edge of her borrowed jumper, languid and lazy and entirely at ease. Her heart pounded as his hand brushed her ribs, and as her head fell back to rest against his chest, she felt the edge within her that had been made raw the past few days begin to heal, smoothing over with every pass of his hands across her skin.

“I missed you,” he murmured.

He smelled like snow and wind, the cold still clinging to his leathers. Nesta shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cold she could feel radiating from him and seeping into her, even through the thick material of the jumper she’d stolen only a few hours ago.

She turned her head, his cheek brushing hers, and behind him, his wings twitched.

Cassian’s arms enveloped her, palms skating down the side of her arms until they reached her wrists, where the material of his jumper gathered and folded. Softly Cassian pressed a tender kiss to the skin of her neck, inhaling deeply as if, for the first time in days, he could breathe easily. He practically shuddered as he took in the scent of her— the scent of home, Nesta realised, because even though she hadn’t been the one away the past five days, it was only with Cassian returned to her that home felt like… well, home again. Like all was right in the world, balance restored.

Words escaped her, and she could barely think straight, but as his nose nudged her cheek Nesta let out a soft huff, one of endearment, and all she could say, with her lips brushing his ear was,

“Welcome home.”

He hummed, the sound low and suggestive, and gods— it made Nesta dizzy. His hands stretched until they covered her own, his palm coming to rest atop her knuckles. His fingers delved between hers, his grip tight, and suddenly she longed to feel his chest against her back rather than the cushions of the sofa.

But for the moment he seemed content to hold her like this, to take it in, like he’d been away for a decade.

The siphons atop their entwined hands glowed, and slowly - so slowly - Nesta pulled one hand free. Lifting it to his face she traced his cheekbone, trailing her touch across the bow of his lips as his eyes drifted closed. He groaned, his head tipping forward to fall at her shoulder once more, his lips kissing the curve of her neck— harder now, more insistent, like that lazy, cocksure posturing was a game he’d grown tied of playing.

Everything Nesta was narrowed on that— the lips at her neck, the bare skin he sought and found with lips and teeth.

Oh, she’d missed him.

She had always looked at her sister and Rhysand and wondered dryly how either of them could stand to be so interdependent. She’d always thought it ridiculous, how neither of them could function when the other was away. She could have laughed at the irony now, and might have, had she not been so distracted by the way Cassian’s teeth suddenly scraped over the skin at her collarbone, sending a jolt right down her spine, like lightning. It drew a gasp from her, her lungs starting to ache.

“Did you miss me, Nes?” Cassian whispered, and Nesta felt her toes curl, felt the air begin to thin.

“Not even a little bit,” she lied, and she felt him smile against her, lips curving against her neck.

“Liar.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. She was done with this— this game of cat and mouse, pretending they weren’t both mere seconds from unravelling entirely. Without second thought she cast aside the book that had fallen to her lap and broke free of Cassian’s hold, rising to her knees on the sofa cushions before pivoting, turning to face him fully.

For a moment amusement glittered in his hazel eyes, but Nesta watched as his gaze turned dark, the playful spark swallowed entirely by pure, ravenous want. His hands landed on her waist as hunger swept across that beautiful face, and Nesta wondered if a similar expression crossed her own face, if he could tell just by looking how desperate she was for him.

She didn’t bother to find out, and for once he didn’t tease her.

Nesta lurched forwards, grabbing her mate by the collar of his wind-chilled leathers and hauling him to her, the back of the sofa still sitting between them. Cassian groaned into her, his lips meeting hers at last, hands bunching in the fabric of his jumper as he gripped her waist hard enough to bruise.

Her lips parted, a breathless gasp leaving her as Cassian took everything she offered and gave it back to her tenfold, his hands drifting up her spine and palming the back of her neck before dragging along her jaw. His fingers slid into her hair, another groan leaving him as his hands grew tangled there, searching for pins to pull free.

His kiss was desperate, starving, and Nesta was no better, no more composed. She clawed at his back, rising higher on her knees as if it might bring him even closer. She was burning, every inch of her consumed by heat, and her heart was hammering so loudly it was a wonder it didn’t burst right out of her chest.

Some kind of whimper left her, a sound of absolute - mortifying - desperation, and Cassian’s lips curved against her own, his grin devolving into a rough laugh as he kissed her with abandon, lips dragging to the edge of her mouth, to her jaw, to any piece of her he could reach.

“Nes,” he murmured, lips pressed firmly against her skin.

Nesta’s eyes blinked open, dazed, as she pulled back just enough to find some air. A breath later, Cassian’s forehead dropped against hers, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as her own. He swallowed, pressing a final kiss to the tip of her nose before pulling back to study her face.

“I love you,” he said softly, hands dropping from her hair at last as he brushed a thumb across her cheek. “Have I told you that yet? Since I got home?”

Nesta laughed. “No, but you’ve been home for all of five minutes.”

He shrugged. “Hardly an excuse, since it’s all I’ve been thinking for the last five days.”

She rolled her eyes, but before she could answer - before she could tell him she loved him too - his eyes flicked down, catching on the Illyrian romance Nesta had left on the table. She’d finished it within a day, but hadn’t had the heart to shelve it once she was done, leaving it out so that she might run a finger down the spine every now and then— just to be reminded of how he’d thought about her enough to leave those little notes scattered throughout the House.

“You got my note, then?” he asked, eyes glinting.

Nesta nodded. “All seven.”

But Cassian’s smile turned wicked. “Only seven?”

He tsked as he pushed away entirely from the back of the sofa, rounding it with that easy, cocksure gait of his until he stood before her, one eyebrow raised. Nesta tilted her head.

“How many did you leave?”

His grin widened, throwing her a wink before he sank onto the cushions beside her, throwing an arm around her shoulders and bringing her to his side. She sank against him, melting into him. Irreverently he looked down at her, eyes gleaming with mischief.

He shook his head in answer, and using the arm he had wrapped around her shoulders, Cassian urged her down onto the cushions, until her back was flush against them. He winked again, leaning closer until his lips brushed hers so lightly it was almost a kind of madness. His hands were light as they trailed down her sides, a teasing touch that had her igniting all over again.

He didn’t answer her question, and Nesta huffed sharply even as her hands wandered into his hair, trailing through the strands he hadn’t tied up in his usual bun. Her thumb brushed the earring he wore in his left ear, his eyes fluttering closed as her dragged the tip of his nose along her jaw.

“Where,” Nesta demanded again. After all, she had looked everywhere. She was certain of it.

Cassian let out a laugh above her, one she felt rumble through her own chest. His gaze lowered to her mouth, and she had to fight to remember why she even cared about the notes, why she cared about anything other than him kissing her until she couldn’t breathe.

He shook his head again.

“Something for you to find the next time I’m away,” he murmured, and this time… Nesta let it lie.

She let out a hmph, but let her hands delve back into his hair, pulling him against her. His weight settled atop her, his forearms braced either side of her. His siphons pulsed, and she didn’t care that they were in the middle of the House library - that anyone could walk in and find them like this - she pulled his face down to hers, and when he kissed her this time…

Nesta let herself be lost in it entirely, all those little notes for the moment forgotten— the small ways he’d told her he loved her replaced now by his touch and the words he whispered in her ear.

And when, after some indeterminate and inexplicable length of time, he pulled his lips away from hers to let her breathe - when his mouth fell to her collarbone and began to drift lower - all Nesta could say was,

“I love you too.”

#nessian #nessian fic #sjmromanceweek2024

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ofmdrecaps · 6 months ago

Text

08/14-15/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Con O'Neill; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Madeleine Sami; Rachel House; Kristian Nairn; Samba Schutte; Vico Ortiz; Ruibo Qian; Dominic Burgess; Fan Spotlight: Our Flag Means Fanfiction; BearNecessities OFMD Affirmation Cards; Love Notes;

== Con O'Neill ==

It's Con's birthday! He's on his way to San Jose for the next GalaxyCon and sending some thank yous for all the birthday wishes! Happy birthday sir!

There's also a birthday video, but I ran out of video space! Thank you to @thedowneyheart for uploading it to tumblr! Visit them here!

Also Samba sent some love Con's way!

Img Sources: Con's Instagram / Samba's Instagram Stories

== David Jenkins ==

I forgot to include this last time! Our buddy Jemaine is asking everyone to watch the new episode of Time Bandits that he wrote that came out on Apple TV on the 14th! Chaos dad's on it! Are you? (I'm late watching them).

And today he reposted one of our favorite messages:

Source: David Jenkins' Twitter

== Rhys Darby ==

Rosie posted some super cute family pictures! Apparently Theo's been making donuts!

They were also out at the new Rhett & Link' premier of Wonderhole! Is that a Spanish Jackie's shirt we see? 👀

Source: Rosie CD's Instagram Stories / Getty Images

= The Cryptid Factor Live =

One of our beyond amazing and kind crewmates @sconesfortea was so sweet to allow me to share their many photos and videos of Rhys and the Cryptid Boys! Please check out their tumble posts below for pure Cryptid Chaos! Yes that is Buttons doing the worm!

Part 1

Part 2

Source: @sconesfortea's Tumblr

== Madeleine Sami ==

Mads is sharing some love for some fam and a new video on Deadloch!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Prime Video AU & NZ (@primevideoaunz)

instagram

Source: Madeleine Sami's Instagram

== Rachel House ==

More BTS from Time Bandits and Rachel's episodes!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Rachel House (@rachelteaomarama)

instagram

Source: Rachel House's Instagram

== Kristian Nairn ==

Kristian's on his way to Galaxy Con San Jose as well!

Source: Kristian Nairn's Instagram

== Vico Ortiz ==

More OFMD S2 BTS from Vico on their patreon!!

Source: Vico's Patreon

== Samba Schutte ==

Woohoo! Samba's new romantic comedy Advanced Chemistry has been acquired by Good Deed Entertainment and will be released in theatres on Sept 3! Congrats Samba! Lots of love from the OFMD cast too! Deadline Article

Source: Samba's Instagram

== Nathan Foad ==

You guessed it-- Nathan's also on his way to GalaxyCon San Jose!

AND he found some old bts that he decided to share on his instagram stories.

Source: Nathan Foad's Instagram Stories

== Ruibo Qian ==

Our Pirate Queen apparently had some photos done-- but has laryngitis right now! Wishing you a swift recovery queen!

Source: Ruibo Qian's Instagram

== Dominic Burgess ==

Dominic is out with the Palm Royale crew, celebrating Jeff Toyne, a music nominee for the Television Academy!

Source: Dominic Burgess' Twitter

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Our Flag Means Fanfiction =

Another episode of Our Flag Means Fanfiction this week in honor of Con's birthday! Several of our magnificent crewmates, hosted by @ringasunn! Check them out on their Linktree!

Source: Our Flag Means Fanfiction Instagram

== Bair Necessities Affirmation Cards ==

Tonight I'd like to add a new fan spotlight to the mix - OFMD Affirmation Cards by our lovely crewmate, Mik aka bairnecessities! She has been making OFMD and other fandom affirmation cards for a long time-- some of you may even own some of them or recognize them from David Jenkin's Instagram shares! Mik makes such gorgeous and uplifting artwork, and she was kind enough to allow me to share some of them and link to her work over the next few recaps. Please absolutely check her out on the various socials, there's such lovely, kind messages in all her spaces <3 Instagram / Twitter / Linktr.ee / Etsy

A couple selections from the Season 2 Deck:

She's also got a beautiful expansion deck that's just come out, featuring a lot of our favorite secondary characters from Season 2!

OH! And did I mention, she's going to be at GalaxyCon SanJose this weekend? You can actually pick up some of her new expansion decks there!

Source: BairNecessities Linktree

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies! Well here we are, going into Friday again! (Some of you are already there, hello folks from the future!) I truly hope this week has been kind to you. It's certainly been a busy one, and apparently full of birthdays! Con on the 15th, Taika on the 16th - and the weekend is looking even busier with GalaxyCon San Jose coming up! With David being so active as well, it's been nice to see so many people having a great time in the fandom again.

Whether it's jokingly mourning the loss of poor Doug LastName, or adding goofy ass horses to our favorite ofmd pictures-- it's been really heartwarming to see everyone having such a good time. This is what fandoms are for! To joke, and laugh, and have fun. Sometimes to be serious and talk meta too, and part of that is just getting to interact with each other, and play off each others strength and goofiness. I really am so fortunate to be a part of this fandom, it's nothing like I've ever experienced before, and it brings me a lot of hope and joy on dark days. You all play off each other in the best ways, and make this fandom so unique and fun, and even when things seem down, you find new ways to heal and rise again. I know I haven't been around as much lately, but I want you to know I'm still keeping an eye out, and you all are still some of the kindest, most brilliant, and fun people I've ever had the pleasure to meet. Keep shining lovelies, you're doing great out there with whatever you're dealing with.

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evaskjew · 4 months ago

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I'm trying something for fandom artists/writers

Well, as I don't have anyone to tag (I'm really the least sociable person in the world and I'm too scared to talk to people in the fandom 😂), it's up to those who see this post to participate or not (if it turns out that it's not going to take at all, but never mind!)

Well, as my thing is drawing, I'll go with that (but you can adapt it to writing for those who write, or anything else for that matter!)

Last drawing:

Favourite drawing:

Well, I'm cheating, I'm putting two in because I can't choose 😖 On the one hand it's my best pastel drawing (to say it's also my second realistic portrait in colour) and on the other the painting I did with my grandmother and it's also the first time I've done anything other than a portrait in realistic drawing with a background and so on.

Hated drawing:

Right, then. Here again it's hard to put just one. I'm VERY hard on myself and I hate almost all my drawings 🥲 But really, if I have to choose, there are three that I really can't see any more because I find them so horrible.

Future project(s):

Following the poll, I'm going to start working on a new portrait of Garreth.

Next up, why not draw Ominis again (I've taken several in-game screenshots of him that I'd like to do to work on the backgrounds) and I'd also like to draw characters I haven't drawn yet, like Natsai or Amit.

And maybe one day, when I'm bored because I can't find any more images to use as models, I might draw some MCs from in-game screenshots.

And apart from drawing, I'd like to finish writing my OS by the end of the year 😂

Favourite artist:

There are far too many talented people in fandom ❤️

But without hesitation I'd say @tamayula-hl! Long before I dared to post my drawings online, I admired her work so much and even today I jump on every notification as soon as she posts! I know I'll never reach her level but her work is a source of inspiration and motivation (even more so now that I've switched to watercolour and I'm still trying to figure out how to work with colours, the way she works with colour is so incredible 🥰)

And I can't thank her enough for her post showing all the possible angles for Ominis' and Sebastian's hairs, it was so helpful 🙏🏻

And I admire @choccy-milky too! These are the two fandom artists I've been following since I started on Tumblr a little over a year ago 😄

One or few points on which I would like to improve:

First of all, I've managed to stop transferring the outlines of my drawings. Yes, it's a bit cheating to transfer, I know. But if I don't do it, the proportions are going to be catastrophic and that's going to piss me off (long live my perfectionism) and I'm going to stop and stubborn as I am coupled with my lack of self-confidence, I'm never going to want to draw again. So for the time being, we're going to keep tracing 😅 We'll see what happens in time.

But most of all, I'd like to stop depending on images I find on Pinterest or Tumblr and just reproduce them as drawings. I'm incapable of doing anything other than faithfully reproducing an image 😢 It annoys me, because I'd also like to post lots of drawings of my MC Evangeline interacting with other characters 😞 And the worst thing is the difference in my drawing level when I do something that doesn't depend on a reference image! (the proof: my drawings of Evangeline and this drawing of Ominis)

I took it upon myself while writing this post and forced myself to do a drawing of Evangeline in 20 minutes without a model (I just traced a neutral pose from a drawing dummy to have my base and improvised from my watercolour of Evangeline for her outfit).

You be the judge:

The end of her leg and her shoe is a disaster 😭

Well, that's that. I don't know how it's going to turn out and whether any artists/writers are going to take part, but it was a fun post to make!

#I hope those who do this tag name post will enjoy it !#tag game #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy art #my art

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matan4il · 1 year ago

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Daily update post:

An armed drone hit a school in Eilat. Seven kids had to be taken to a hospital. We still don't officially know who sent the attack drone, or how it wasn't intercepted. The options are that it was either sent from Yemen (less likely), from the ISIS terrorists in Sinai (Egypt) or from Jordan. Just a reminder: Eilat has a population of 51,000 and it has absorbed at least 60,000 of the evacuated Israelis who had survived Hamas' massacre.

In an independent terrorist attack, Palestinians fired at an Israeli car, wounding two adults (one severely and one moderately), but thankfully missing the baby who was also in the vehicle.

The Mossad (the Israeli equivalent of the CIA) helped authorities in Brazil prevent a Hezbollah terrorist attack against Jews there. In 1994, Hezbollah successfully carried out a terrorist attack against a Jewish community center in Argentina, killing 85 people and injuring over 300. Hezbollah is currently still attacking Jewish communities in Israel's north with rockets and drones.

Yesterday, for the first time in decades, Jews prayed in the ancient, 1,500 years old synagogue in Gaza (yes, older than the Arab colonization of the Land of Israel). Here's a delegation of archeologists examining the mosaic floor of the synagogue:

The mosaic includes the image of the Jewish King David, playing a lyre, with his name appearing in Hebrew letters.

The IDF has explicitly put out the message for Gazans today, that if Hamas is stopping them from evacuating, they can turn to the Israeli army for help.

Hamas' second in command in Gaza, Khalil al-Haja, told the New York Times, that the purpose of the massacre wasn't to bring prosperity to Gaza, it's to create a permanent state of war for Israel on all of its borders (meaning by facilitating a regional war, forcing other Middle Eastern elements to join the war against Israel).

HonestReporting is an NGO that was established in 2000 to combat the anti-Israel bias in many news outlets (it happened because a pic of an Israeli policeman saving a Jewish American tourist from Arabs attacking him, was published by the New York Times as the pic of an Israeli policeman attacking a Palestinian).

Now, HonestReporting has published a report on Gazan journalists, who provided materials for Reuters, AP, CNN and the New York Times, and were there for Hamas' massacre, on the border of Israel, early in the morning on Saturday (Israel's day of rest). HR is posing the question of how did these journalists know to be present there, at that time. HR is also pointing out that they entered Israel together with Hamas' terrorists, raising ethical questions about their presence and inaction at the scene of these horrors as they were happening. Following the report, HR was also sent a pic of one of these journalists been kissed on the cheek by Yahya Sinwar, the head of Hamas in Gaza.

I find it so touching when people from backgrounds hostile to Israel, still manage to look beyond that, and see us as people. This is the bridge to the peace that I personally still wanna believe we'll have in this region one day:

Israeli police is putting together a case against the Hamas terrorists who executed the massacre, and who were caught alive. So far, over 700 testimonies of survivors have been collected, as well as tens of thousands of digital files. The terrorists' interrogations will also be included. Some of these have been published. One thing that they recounted is that they were given religious permission to murder women, children and babies. They also said that the purpose of the rapes and beheadings was to terrify the Israeli public. Lastly, they admitted that the plan was to make it from southern Israel to the central region, too (where Tel Aviv and Jerusalem are).

This is Avihu Mori, he was recognized as a mental health patient, due to severe PTSD. Every time Palestinian rockets were fired into Israel, his family said he would start falling apart, and acting illogically. During the current war, it happened again, he ran away, crossed the border into Gaza and was killed there.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #antisemitism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish

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sugar-grigri · 2 years ago

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I've read through your posts and deliberated some more, yet I still don't see the connection of a critique on capitalism. I see the critique of work, yes, but mostly because it reflects Denji's self value. I don't think it's the same.

Let's dive into capitalism...

You're not the first to ask, so I'll answer (I'll try to be succinct). I just want to make it clear that this is all my interpretation, if you still don't see a connection after this post. Then you're just interpreting this point differently, and that's completely ok.

For more context I think it's interesting to point out who I am or rather what I do. I'm a lawyer, still in training but enough to call myself one. I specialize in a rather specific area of law in France: public economic law. Let's put it this way: it's a body of law that analyzes the relationship between the State and individuals, and focuses solely on the general interest.

Let's agree on a definition of capitalism. Capitalism is an economic and social system in which capital (the source of income) and the means of production and exchange do not belong to those who use them through their own labor.

It's important to note that capitalism takes different forms in each state.

In Japan, the origins of capitalism lie in vigorous state intervention. The period that best characterizes it is the Meiji era, the 19th century. Today, this is revealed by the significant intervention of the Ministry of the Economy.

If all this sounds complicated, there is a first element of definition. If I don't just see a critique of the world of work in the public hunter system, it's also because one of Chainsaw Man's themes is the state. I'm not extrapolating, since it's a theme that recurs several times, whether through Makima and her confrontation with the gun demon, or through the choice of security structure: public. That is, controlled by the Japanese government.

I think that, yes, CSM makes a more global criticism than a specific point of society, and speaks of the relationship between citizen and state.

But let's continue. It's not insignificant either that the first images of the CSM season 1 trailer are of a dark alleyway overflowing with rats. Nor is it insignificant to set up a character, very young, and very poor as a main character. This doesn't shock us, as heroes tend to have tragic pasts, but it's not an empty choice.

When we think of neoliberalism, the example of the United States or the United Kingdom are the first that come to mind. Yet Japan is the OECD country that has seen the greatest rise in inequality, due to deregulation of the labor market and the rise in precarious employment (40% of the working population today) with the privatization of key sectors such as rail and postal services.

Privatization movements ? That's been covered.

But another feature of Japan's aggressive neoliberalism is the university. Whose entrance fees are increasing atrociously.

University entrance fees ? Lack of education for the most precarious classes ? That's been covered.

What I'm trying to prove once again is that Fujimoto applies himself to revealing the relationship between individuals and states. Makima, the antagonist, is even subjected to it, inscribed in a hierarchical relationship. She has also become an uncontrollable demon to the point of making the United States swoon, for she is nothing more than a chimera created by the Japanese government, which has hammered her with the doctrine of evil necessary for the greater common good. In other words, collectivism.

The connection between capitalism and Denji's character is often made, but even Makima, the antagonist, was following a goal imposed by a larger structure, from which she didn't really benefit because she wasn't happy.

Nor is Chainsaw Man just about an extremely harsh working world. We're also talking about the extent to which Denji is satisfied with little things (which Fujimoto also sees in a positive light).

But Fujimoto's main point with Denji is not that the problem lies in his dreaming of toast per se (although that's a problem too), but that there's a disproportion between his sacrifices and his rewards.

It's not insignificant that Denji suffers horribly when he turns into Chainsaw Man, that the system seems to work with him because he sees himself only as a tool.

Capitalism is defined above all by the fact that the worker does not reap all the benefits of his work.

Denji literally produces the added value that will serve his structure without perceiving the benefits in the extreme. Since Makima is going to take all the benefits away from him.

Is it fair, then, to speak of a simple critique of labor when we know that the antagonist is the product of the Japanese government? Don't think of the critique of the world of work as a separate, singular critique, but as part of a critique of a more global system: Japan and its current regime, capitalism.

For it is the relationship between the economy and the state's conception of it that affects the world of work. The liberalization movement that began in the 1980s and accelerated in the 2000s and 2010s is a striking example of this. What is the clearest result of the relationship between globalization and Japan than manga ?

If there's one thing that helped me understand Fujimoto's interest in these issues, it's his relationship with his own industry. His works culminate in themes relating to the community and the individual, and their relationship with art and culture. Just think of all those movie scenes.

Fujimoto isn't delivering a critique of capitalism because it's fashionable to do so, he's following a lineage of his own.

Fujimoto isn't delivering a critique of capitalism because it's fashionable, he's following a lineage, also talking about the relationship between capitalism and his art. The mangakas themselves are trapped in a logic of commercialization and commodity production, to the detriment of creativity itself. I feel that Part 2 is a complete response to Chainsaw Man's worldwide success. The way Denji's daily life hasn't changed a bit, and also the parallel with Fujimoto.

An ultra-popular author... but one who turns in a chapter once a week.

#my thoughts #analysis #csm #chainsaw man #chainsaw man spoilers #ask #fujimoto #csm part 1 #csm part 2 #fujimoto tatsuki #thank for the ask!!

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torahoes · 8 months ago

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(IDOLiSH7) Touma Inumaru - An Idol's Daily Life Rabbit Chat: Part 1 - Send-Off with an Idol's Smile

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Please note that I am not a professional translator. If you come across any mistakes, feel free to let me know and I will make the necessary corrections.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Inumaru-san, good work. Thank you very much for appearing as a guest on MEZZO"'s radio show today!

Tsumugi Takanashi: Both of them seemed very happy and said they had a lot of fun talking with you about various topics!

Touma Inumaru: Good work today, Takanashi-san! I love music and often listen to MEZZO"'s radio show, so I had a blast too!

Touma Inumaru: I was so caught up in the deep conversation with Sougo that I forgot I was at work and got really fired up lol

Touma Inumaru: So much so that when Yotsuba kept asking me stuff without hesitation, I wanted to share so much with him, but time flew by too quickly.

Tsumugi Takanashi: You all were chatting in the waiting room after it ended too! And thank you so much for the King Pudding you brought for him!

Touma Inumaru: No problem at all! I was really glad that he was so happy! His eyes were sparkling when he went, "Can I eat all of it!?" It was adorable.

Touma Inumaru: Although Sougo immediately stopped him, saying, "You can't eat ALL of it" lololol

Tsumugi Takanashi: He said he planned to eat one tonight and one tomorrow morning. Lol

Touma Inumaru: I did that when I was a kid too. Whenever I bought a box of ice cream, I always wanted to eat several at once.

Touma Inumaru: I didn't think anyone would notice because there were so many, so this one time I secretly ate like three at a once and ended up with a stomach ache lolol

Tsumugi Takanashi: Three at once…? That's enough to freeze your stomach...

Touma Inumaru: I was dumb lololol. My mom found out immediately and got mad, so I started planning when to eat them over the week.

Tsumugi Takanashi: When you're a kid, you take snack times really seriously, don't you? Lol

Tsumugi Takanashi: It wasn’t ice cream in my case, but when my dad bought me a tin of cookies, I would get excited and carefully choose which one to eat each day.

Touma Inumaru: So you actually stuck to the plan? That's impressive!

Tsumugi Takanashi: Well... sometimes I couldn’t resist and secretly ate two at once… > <

Touma Inumaru: We're all the same lolololol

Tsumugi Takanashi:

Tsumugi Takanashi: By the way, I saw on the morning show that you're going to appear in the "Send-Off with an Idol's Smile!" segment!

Touma Inumaru: Thank you! I'm just a guest for a week, so I'm going to do my best to leave a good impression.

Tsumugi Takanashi: It's a popular segment, so I think it will have a big impact…!

Tsumugi Takanashi: I often hear how people are thrilled to receive a "Have a great day!" from their favorite idol right after the weather forecast.

Touma Inumaru: I heard it gets a lot of buzz on social media with tags like "Today's XX-san" trending!

Tsumugi Takanashi: Yes, they make posts with the "I'm off now" tag right when the idols say, "Have a great day" on the show. It trends every morning!

Tsumugi Takanashi: I'm sure when you’re on, "#Today's_Inumaru-san" will be a hot topic.

Touma Inumaru: I'm looking forward to it, but I'm also a bit nervous lol

Touma Inumaru: Honestly, when I got the offer, I was really surprised. Like, me? Seriously? The people that come on this show have a fresh image that fits the morning vibe, so I wondered if my smile would be a good fit.

Touma Inumaru: The other day, I offered my hand to a kid who fell in front of me and he started crying lolol

Tsumugi Takanashi: Maybe he was just startled > <

Touma Inumaru: I don’t have a friendly face like Haru or Mina, so maybe I scared him. I was also wearing a hat pulled down low and a mask.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Perhaps it was because of that disguise...!

Touma Inumaru: Now that I think about it, I was also wearing sunglasses, so that might be it lol

Tsumugi Takanashi:

Tsumugi Takanashi: Riku-san also said that he feels he would be energized being sent off with Inumaru-san's smile.

Touma Inumaru: Rikuuuu!! He’s such a nice guy!!

Touma Inumaru: I’ll send him a Rabbit Chat later!

Tsumugi Takanashi:

Touma Inumaru: Actually, I wanted to thank you, Takanashi-san!

Tsumugi Takanashi: Eh, did I do something!?

Touma Inumaru: When you sent MEZZO" to the booth saying "Have a great day," it felt so fresh and warm. I thought it was really nice.

Touma Inumaru: I was like "I definitely have to learn from this!" and made sure to take mental notes lol

Tsumugi Takanashi: I’m honored you would say that > <

Touma Inumaru: Do you have any tips?

Tsumugi Takanashi: I haven't thought deeply about it, but I always try to convey a sense of "Do your best!" when I send them off.

Touma Inumaru: I see, so it's all about conveying that feeling. That's important!

Touma Inumaru: I hope I can send off the viewers with a feeling that energizes them too!

Tsumugi Takanashi:

End of Part 1.

#idolish7 translation #zool #idolish7 #ainana #i7 #id7 #touma inumaru #inumaru touma #toma inumaru #inumaru toma #rabbitchat #rabbit chat #i7 translation

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amaretigris · 21 days ago

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Friction

Taglist: @luna2034 @hopeisrising @notagreekgal28 @mylittlemermaid221 @justagirlthatlovedtoread @freyagallileaevans @jonahmermaid23 @jonahhauer-kingg

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Ch. 8 | 2.8k words | Angst

༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄

Marianna comes over the next day. Eric enjoys his time with her as he always does, but he thinks he sees images of (h/c) hair splayed across the pillow when he closes his eyes. He has to force them open several times to refocus on Marianna. Sure, she only serves as a distraction, but it feels disrespectful to imagine anyone else during their intimate moments. Although, Eric would be lying if he said he didn't see (e/c) eyes occasionally flash through his mind. What's wrong with him? After Eric rolls over to lay beside her, Marianna props her head up on her elbow to look at him.

"You're distracted lately."

Eric's eyes leave the ceiling, and settle on hers.

"Am I?"

She gives him a gentle smile. "Yes, more so than usual. Is something going on?"

Eric returns his gaze to the ceiling.

"No, not that I can think of."

Marianna is quiet for a minute. "You know you can tell me anything, right? Even if it's that you want to stop seeing me. We agreed on that at the start of this."

Eric presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. "I know. It's nothing like that. I'm not exactly sure what's going on with me to be quite honest."

"That's okay, too. You don't always have to know."

Marianna gently touches his arm. He drops his hands from his eyes, and looks back at her.

"What do you do on days when you really miss your husband?"

Marianna blanches, and for a moment Eric feels guilty. It seems his question just caught her off guard, however, because she quickly responds.

"I go to the beach. Oliver was like a fish in the water, and we went to the beach as often as we could. He also loved to collect seashells. I still have most of his collection. I couldn't bear to get rid of them. It makes me feel closer to him in a way."

Eric gives an understanding nod. Marianna looks at him sympathetically. "Do you still have trouble going out on the water?"

His lips tighten, and he tries to keep his eyes from watering. "It's not as bad as it used to be."

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You're buzzing with excitement as you dress the next morning. Lashana stopped you after your shift yesterday to inform you that a new staff member would be arriving to the castle today. Apparently, she's a young woman around your age. You can't wait to meet her, and hopefully make a new friend. You check your neck. The scratches are healed enough for you to go without the bandages today, though you can still see the outline of a few. You powder the slightly discolored skin before running out of your room.

You busy yourself with morning chores until you hear the carriage entering the castle gate. Bounding from your post in the laundry room, you completely still in the doorway when you spot Eric with a woman in the hall. You step back out of view, peeking around to watch their interaction.

Eric has pants on, but his top half is uncovered. You would be more inclined to admire his physique if not for the beautiful woman standing before him. It's the woman you've seen coming to and from the castle many times before. Eric is obviously sleeping with her. You watch as he hugs her goodbye. He closes his eyes for a moment with his chin over her shoulder. The sight delivers an unexpected punch to your gut. She rubs his back for a second, whispering something to him. You watch her lips move, and desperately wish you could hear what was said.

Eric steps back from the hug. He lets the woman go, and nods as she leaves. He stares down the hallway after her. You think you should be happy for him. You know his pain, and his loneliness; and yet the scene makes your throat tighten. Maybe it's because Eric is the only one you've ever been truly authentic with. Yes, he's a pain in the ass, and he also happens to be royalty and your boss, but you can actually be yourself around him. You don't have to hide, despite the fact that he's your superior in every way. He gives you that freedom.

Eric looks down at his feet. You watch him carefully. His expression looks somber and longing, and you wonder if he loves that woman. From the way he looks at her, you would venture to guess that he does. You hear him sigh, and he turns back to his room, quietly shutting the door. Your heart pounds in your chest. You stand frozen for a moment as you deliberate your next course of action.

Your eyes study Eric's door. Can you sneak past without alerting him? You lick your lips in determination. You have to. If Eric sees you, you'd have to explain why you're so sullen and flustered. You don't think you can string together a coherent sentence in front of him right now with all these feelings jumbled in your head. Stepping out into the hallway quietly, you hold your breath as you tiptoe past Eric's room. You make it to the stairwell, and relief floods your nervous system. You hurry down to the first floor to take your mind off of the prince.

You approach the carriage right as the door opens. A lovely woman with brown hair and blue eyes steps out. You admire her purple dress. Lashana is standing in front of you, and she's the first to greet her.

"Good morning, Vanessa. We're so happy to have you."

You smile as the two women talk. When Lashana turns around, she introduces you.

"This is (Y/N). She's still pretty new here, but she's a wonderful employee. She's been very excited to meet you."

You smile, and hold out your hand for Vanessa to shake.

"Hi. I have been very excited to meet you. I hope we can become great friends."

Vanessa looks you up and down. "It's great to meet you."

She gives you a strained smile. She grabs your hand lightly, but doesn't actually give it much of a shake before withdrawing. It seems a little dismissive. You purse your lips. You turn from the women with disappointment etched on your face, and spot Eric stepping into the courtyard. Shit.

He has a shirt on now. The color drains from your face at the outrageousness of your thoughts and the memory of his bare chest. Eric approaches the three of you. You divert your eyes, hoping that he'll just ignore you and pass by. Instead, he stops to look at you.

"(Y/N), are you alright?"

Your head shoots up. "Hmm? Yes, just a little drained is all." You try to dismiss his attention, yet he stays.

"Your neck looks good. It's healing nicely."

You bring a hand up to your throat. You feel yourself blushing. Why? "Thank you."

"Ah, there he is," Lashana bursts your bubble. "This is Prince Eric. Sire, this is Vanessa."

Eric steps past you, and you turn to see Vanessa curtseying to him. She smiles brightly, and you realize that she is capable of manners. She definitely didn't do that for you.

"It's so good to meet you, Your Highness."

Eric gives her a polite smile in return.

"Thank you, it's nice to meet you as well. Let us know if you need any accommodations while you're here. We strive to make all our staff happy."

You realize that you're frowning. Your introduction to Eric wasn't nearly as cordial. Vanessa rises, plainly ogling the prince; it's like she's mentally undressing him. You wonder for a brief second if Eric would ever indulge her. You roll your eyes at that thought, and decide that you've seen enough. You quietly slip away to continue your work. Eric turns his head to see you leaving the courtyard.

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Eric hugs Marianna goodbye. "Remember that you're not alone, Eric," she whispers to him.

He pulls back with a nod as she leaves. He stares after her. Why is it that even though many people have said that to him, he never feels it's true? He wishes he could believe it. Eric drops his gaze to the floor. Marianna shares his grief, and knows him to an extent - but she doesn't know all of him. He wonders if anyone ever will.

Eric returns to his room. He puts a shirt on, and sits on the end of his bed. He runs a hand through his hair. Of all the privileges and happiness he's been given in this life, despair has been their equal. He often wishes he could run or hide from it, but it always finds him. It serves as a constant reminder of what he's lost.

The sound of a horse drawn carriage outside pulls Eric from his thoughts. He blinks, and leaves his bed to look out his window. He vaguely remembers Grimsby and Lashana telling him that a new staff member would be arriving to the castle today. That's when he sees you excitedly run up to the carriage. Your pretty hair bounces with each step. Eric notices that your neck is exposed today. He turns from his window, yanking a vest off his dresser. He hurries down the hall to join the welcoming crew.

When he meets your (e/c) eyes in the courtyard, you avert them, as if you know that they'd flashed through his mind earlier. While Eric reasons that that's entirely impossible, your expression still deflates him a little. Are you really that discontented to see him? It would seem so as you pale the closer he gets. He addresses you anyway. He makes sure to mention that your neck looks better, but his wording stands to improve. He thinks he detects a slight blush on your features before Lashana pulls him from the interaction.

Eric reluctantly moves past you to greet the newcomer, though he can already tell that she's going to be an instigator. She curtseys before him, and bats her eyelashes. She speaks in a honey sweet tone. Others might find it alluring, but it has the opposite effect on the prince. This woman has only just arrived, and she's apparently decided that she's captivated with him. The thought of being inappropriate with staff unsettles him. He thinks he could never be so improper, but he's not exactly been the picture perfect prince that he should be.

Eric reasons that there are exceptions to any rule. He's suddenly reminded of your presence in the audience to this performance. He turns to gauge your reaction, but only catches sight of you slinking up the steps to the kitchen. Disappointment etches his brow. He returns to the conversation only to excuse his quick departure. Eric sighs, unbuttoning his vest as he trudges up the stairs. He retires to his room for the night, locking the door behind him.

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Over the course of the next week, you repeatedly attempt to connect with Vanessa. You try to give her the benefit of the doubt, reasoning that maybe she was just taken with the prince upon her arrival. Each interaction you have with her, however, only makes you more positive that this is not the case. Her intentions seem less than decent. Vanessa seems to want to ensnare him, in fact.

"Good morning," you speak to her almost daily as you enter the kitchen.

Vanessa usually looks up at you, but makes no effort to reply. You pout for days. She doesn't seem to want to talk to you at all unless it's to ask about Eric.

"What's his schedule like? Where can I find him? What's his favorite food?"

These are all questions that she's thrown your way. You often shrug and give her non-committal answers. You almost inform her of his ongoing relationship, but you realize that you'd rather see her genuine reaction to that when she discovers it herself. It might be mean-spirited, but the woman has made no effort to be kind to you. One afternoon, you enter the kitchen, and find Vanessa there. She turns to you as you enter.

"What is the prince's favorite tea?"

You smile at the question.

"He likes chamomile," you lie, "and he likes it served boiling hot."

Vanessa turns to the stove in a hurry to prep a fresh pot of chamomile tea. You try to contain your smile as you head up to the laundry room. By the time Vanessa bounces up the stairs with it, you peek around the doorway. She knocks on the prince's door, and waits there with an excited expression. Eric's door swings open. He stands there with wild hair and tired eyes.

"Good morning, Your Highness," she bows. She holds the tray up. "I brought you your favorite tea."

"What is it?" He looks at her doubtfully.

"Chamomile," she smiles. "Hot and fresh out the kettle."

Eric scrubs a hand down his face. You almost feel guilty because it seems she woke him up.

"Thanks. You can leave it in the hall."

Vanessa quirks a brow, but attempts to bend over as seductively as possible to set the tray down at his feet. Eric turns, and all but slams the door in her face. You stifle a laugh behind your hand, and duck back into the laundry room. You hear Vanessa heave a frustrated sigh. You busy yourself pressing the linens. You listen as her footsteps retreat down the other end of the hall.

A couple hours later, you quietly walk past Eric's room. You smile at the abandoned tray in the hall, but realize that you should, in fact, pick it up. You bend over to do so as the door opens. Eric steps out, and your back straightens.

"Oh, uh, good morning, si-." At his raised brow, you correct yourself. "Eric. Good morning, Eric."

He releases a breath, putting his hands on his hips with a puzzled look.

"Good morning," he answers. "Have you any idea why Vanessa brought me the one tea I despise in the world so early this morning?"

You crack a smile, biting your lip to contain a laugh. Eric's eyes follow the motion.

"It seems she's trying to impress you," you shrug.

You bend back over to pick up the tray. When you stand up, you find Eric's eyes still trained on you.

"Yes, that's very evident," he continues. "I don't understand why she's so determined."

You shrug again. "I'm not sure," you answer honestly. "I've yet to inform her about your relationship though. She hasn't given me much opportunity." That part may not be entirely true. "After she's aware of that, hopefully she'll stop."

Eric gazes at you quizzically. "My relationship?"

You swallow, and your eyes bounce around the hall. You really don't want to discuss this with him. It was a mistake to mention it.

"Uh, yes. The woman that comes to visit you."

That's all you care to say. For some reason, you're not entirely comfortable admitting how beautiful she is in front of Eric. Perhaps because you know he'll agree.

Eric shakes his head. "That's Marianna, and we're not in a relationship."

You pinch your brow. "Oh, I thought that-"

You realize yourself, and snap your lips shut. No way were you about to relive hearing them together; and no way were you about to say that to the prince himself.

Eric's eyes widen with realization. He suddenly looks guilty. "Damn, that's right. You heard us that time."

He ruffles his hair, releasing a breath.

"I am still sorry about that," he grimaces, and licks his lips.

"Marianna and I are not committed to each other. We only...," he searches for the right word. "We only comfort each other."

Eric grimaces again, obviously not liking the sound of that.

"She lost her husband right before I lost my dad," he hurries to explain.

You shuffle your feet, anxious to leave this conversation.

"I'm sorry to hear that," you reply. "It's really none of my business, though. I apologize for bringing it up."

You bow your head, and walk away as fast as your feet will carry you. You glide downstairs to dump the tray of tea in the sink. You wash the dishes, and turn to dry your hands. Vanessa yanks the towel off the kitchen island before you can grab it. Your heated glare turns to her.

"What did you do that for?"

"You made me look stupid in front of Eric." Vanessa's hand gripping the towel is on her hip.

"Are you trying to steal him? I saw you talking in the hallway when I came to check if the tea was gone."

You roll your eyes, wiping your hands on your apron.

"Please, I'd be the last one to try to steal him from you if he was even yours."

You shoulder past her. You can't stand to talk about the prince any longer, much less think about him.

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