#anyways. i love the black garden so much i think of her all the time happy gos is pinnacle week. she is my everything

[planet4546b]

THE GARDEN GROWS IN BOTH DIRECTIONS

legend: the black garden, destiny (2014)/ garden of salvation, destiny 2 (2017)/ visions of another world, jean-pierre ugarte/ spring in hieron 38: see where you’re standing, friends at the table/ the poetics of space, gaston bachelard/ rhododendron hirsutum, erwin lichtenegger/ floating city, kasumigaura, kisho kurokawa/ annihilation, jeff vandermeer/ garden of salvation, destiny 2 (2017)/ escher’s lizards, song kang/  a conversation between timothy morton and jeff vandermeer, los angeles review of books/ outer wilds (2019), annapurna interactive/ aspect: realis, destiny 2 (2017)/ your fake name is good enough for me, iron and wine/ no. 13, ja paunkovic/ photograph by xuebing du/ invisible cities, italo calvino/ dandelion, shota suzuki/ baitogogo, henrique oliveira/ aspect: gnomic, destiny 2 (2017)/ spring in hieron 3: hospitable to you, friends at the table/ annihilation (2018), dir. alex garland/ superstructure, superstudio/ sensitive survivors, miranda van dijk/ the poetics of space, gaston bachelard/ one that suits me, hop along/ shadowkeep, destiny 2 (2017)/ notes on the below, ada limon/ wild pear tree, kaveh akbar/ legend: the black garden, destiny (2014)

#destiny #destiny 2 #shadowkeep #the black garden #webweaving #im sooooooo normal about the black garden btw. im so normal about it. like completely normal #ugh theres so many other things i want to put in this but while theyre clear to me i dont think theyd quite read as clearly #or i just cant find the right way to fit them #like. theres a handful of other invisible cities quotes and some stuff from the insulinidian phasmid and piranesi and the continuous monumen #that are all vital to how i understand the black garden but just dont quite come across. and also some music that cant go in a visual post #anyways. i love the black garden so much i think of her all the time happy gos is pinnacle week. she is my everything #and also if anything in this post doesnt make sense. hi. i will absolutely explain my thought process. bc im like this

[fingertipsmp3]

Was straight up Not Doing Well but then I met a cat and now I think I’m okay

#there was nothing specifically wrong with me. it’s just been one of those days #i woke up way too early for no reason and couldn’t get back to sleep and then my grandparents decided to read all the forms i’m bringing #to my job interview on monday (an application form basically) without asking me and ignored me trying to tell them ‘there’s no info about #the job in there’ and also straight up ‘please don’t read that. there’s no reason for you to read that’ #i guess there’s no reason for me to be irked by it because everything in there is stuff they already know about me but like.. it struck me #as rude. and then they didn’t even put it back on the table where they found it?? they put it on a random chair #then i pretty much got ordered to tidy up #then my friend called me having an anxiety attack and i had to run over to her house to make sure the doors were locked (they were) #i also had to bang on every door and window to make sure neither the dog nor the baby had been left home alone by her mom #so now the neighbours probably think i was burgling the place. i had her on the phone so i was prepared to hand it over if anyone questioned #me but still. it can’t have looked great. at one point i was literally in the back garden yelling the kid’s name trying to prove a negative #anyway the kid and the dog weren’t in the house alone. so that’s good #but Then i went for a walk around the village (to help me emotionally deal with all of this) and i sat in the church garden for a bit #and a chunky black cat purred at me and came and sat on my lap. he had long claws so it did hurt a bit i won’t lie #i think next time i might bring an extra jacket so there can be a layer in between him and my thighs. he was very friendly though #i might also bring him a toy because i’m pretty sure he lives in the garden and i know at least one person feeds him but he probably doesn’t #have a ton of stuff to do. and i don’t want to bring more food because he really is Chonky #which i mean.. same but i don’t want to disrupt the balance of whatever dietary plan he may be on #anyway. i love cats #personal

[luveline]

I LOVE YOUR WRITING IT'S SO ASDFJKFTICDHBDIGDGXSJOHCBCFG

so I wanted to request Sirius x reader where the reader is on veritaserum and has a banter/ tongue in cheek sorta relationship with Sirius. And then when she's on the truth serum she has to hold back witty comebacks because when she opens her mouth all she keeps saying is how disgustingly cute Sirius looks when he smiles, and how she just wants to snog his face off PLEASE IF YOU CAN 👉👈 🥺

REMINDER: YOU'RE AMAZING AND I'M HAPPY AND PROUD OF YOUR SERVICE TO THE FANFIC COMMUNITY

thank you ♡ —you can't hide the truth from sirius, and he doesn't want to try. 1.3k

cw spiked drink

"Why would someone put veritaserum in the pimms?" you ask James meekly. 

"Shortcake, I'm really not sure. Don't get upset about it, alright? Remus is going to tear them all a new one." He squeezes you by the shoulders. "Don't worry, Jamie's here." 

"You're very handsome, but I don't fancy you. Much." 

James smiles. "Good to know, lovely. I don't fancy you much either. I'll assume you're saving yourself for our mutual dark-haired friend and I shan't be offended." 

You slap a hand over your mouth and shake your head, but the truth comes out muffled into your palm anyways. "I really like him," you say, eyes wide with terror, "I don't want anyone else. Oh, James! You're such a dick!" 

"Do you mean that, or are you just angry with me?" James asks, helping you out into the garden away from the party and your peers, who can't be trusted to leave you alone when you're set to tell them any secret they want. 

"Both!" 

"What's wrong?" Sirius asks. 

Your neck almost snaps as you look up. James swears, trying to save it as your body instinctively answers. "Someone's spiked our girl," James says extremely loudly to mask your more honest confession, "I'm worried I'm going to tell you I like you," you say. 

Sirius, sitting on a low garden wall with a packet of cigarettes in his hand, is puzzled. "What?" 

"Someone's put veritaserum in her drink. Maybe in the pitcher. I've brought her outside so she doesn't accidentally tell everyone she's in love with me."

Sirius grins. "Don't be daft, Prongs, she's clearly team Black. Aren't you, sweetheart?" 

"You're the prettiest of your trio," you say, sincerity like a blade at the back of your throat, aching, "I'm definitely on your team." 

James squeezes your shoulder and helps you into a garden chair, the metal cool against your back. "I'll forgive you because I know you can't help it, and because I know you're dying of embarrassment," he murmurs. 

"Thank you. I love you." 

"I love you too, shortcake," James says easily, kicking out a chair for Sirius and flopping into his beside you. "Aren't feeling ill, are you?" 

"Just terrified I'll say something too honest," you say, holding your breath between words. 

Sirius sits in the chair that's been kicked out for him with a cigarette held between his lips, unlit. He lift a his hips to pull a lighter from his back pocket and you flush with heat at the motion, wondering if you're a pervert for looking, for thinking, but lately your flirty banter has your heart doing front flips, and every time you see him you're zoning in on his hands, his arms, the slip of skin at his navel when he stretches, the low sound he makes when something pops. 

"Stop ogling me," he says without looking from his cigarette, the end glowing orange in the flame of his clipper. 

"I don't mean to," you say. 

James shifts uncomfortably. Everyone knows you like Sirius, maybe even Sirius, but he hasn't said a thing about it and you've stopped yourself (so far) from telling him. Any truth has been said under the guise of a joke. 

Sirius takes a short drag and holds the cigarette out and away from you, smoke curling in the cold autumnal night. "Shall I go help defend your honour? I assume that's where Remus is. Being spiked isn't funny." 

"I'd like it if you stayed here," you say. 

James laughs. Sirius leans forward a touch. "Then I'll stay here. Do you need something to drink?"

"My mouth is really dry," you say. 

Sirius sends a saccharine smile James' way. It's the look of an older brother used to getting his way, to which James sighs and grumbles, standing from his chair, "Don't ask her anything cruel," he says severely, kissing the top of your head quickly. "I'm serious." 

"I won't. I quite like her, in case you forgot. I've no interest in torturing her." 

You believe him. James departs with a pat, leaving you and Sirius alone at the garden table, still but for the little motion he does every now and then to fleck ash onto the floor. 

"You sure you're okay?" Sirius asks.

"I feel fine. Warm, but that's probably because you're smiling at me." 

He raises his eyebrows. "Maybe we should talk about something else. I really don't want to ask you anything too personal while you can't keep a secret. James gave me veritaserum once, when we were kids." 

"He did?" you ask. 

"Too much of it. I was sick, and I couldn't stop telling him how much I wished we were real brothers. Which he knows now, but at the time it was, you know, very sincere." 

"You and James are real brothers," you say. 

"I'm glad you can say that. It must be true," he says. "I'm lucky, even if he has tried to poison me." 

"James is lucky too. We all are." 

"Yeah?" he asks. He's about to continue, but your mouth does the choosing for you, and you cut him off. 

"I love knowing you, Sirius, I feel lucky to be your friend, and I–" You bite your tongue hard enough for tears to catch in your eyes immediately. 

Sirius' blasé fades, falls away slowly, like a moving cloud unveiling a slice of light, "Don't hurt yourself," he says, alarmed at your wincing. He drops his cigarette and smashes it with his heel, shuffling his chair closer to yours. 

"I just don't want to tell you something," you say, shaking your head. 

Sirius touches your hand. "Okay, I won't ask you any more questions. I'm sorry. Everyone's allowed their secrets, lovely, I didn't mean to make you answer me. I thought it would be easier to skirt around the issue." 

But it's a big feeling, and it's in everything you do. You really, really like him. If you can't be honest about that, maybe you can be honest about something else..

There's no shame in finding a handsome man handsome. And maybe you can convince him that that's all it is. "I just want to kiss you stupid, Black," you say, "like, kiss you until I can't feel my mouth anymore. You look like you know how to really kiss someone." 

Sirius laughs suddenly, startled. "I want to kiss you stupid, doll. You're a fucking dime piece," he says through laughter, "and that's the truth."

"You look really nice when you laugh," you further, wondering if this is the wrong thing to do. 

"You look beautiful when you laugh," he says. 

"Joking with you about stuff is the best part of my week." 

"It's the best part of mine. I wish we saw each other more often," he says. 

"Did you drink the pimms, too?" you ask. 

"No. I'm stone cold sober, sweetheart." Sirius looks behind you and you follow his gaze to the patio doors, where James and Remus are arguing good-naturedly, a tall pint glass filled literally to the rim with water in James' hand.

"Has he left you alone?" Remus asks, quick down the short step to defend you. "I love you, Sirius, but I don't trust you to not ask her embarrassing questions." 

"I'm starting to get offended. No, she hasn't told me anything embarrassing. Only that she wants to snog my lips off, but I knew that already." Sirius smiles at you dopily while his friends seize up. "And that's hardly embarrassing, because I want to do it to her first." 

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black #luveline's 40k party

[yes-divine-ruler]

Kai with cry baby reader, who likes gardening & crotchet <3 HCs

(a little specific, obviously had to add a little smut in here)

You’d met Kai in the strangest way.

You were leaving a parking lot outside your local Family Fare supermarket. You’d forward parked in the bay, in your micro, electric blue hatchback. As you were reversing, you didn’t realise that the car across from your bay was also reversing out. Hopelessly, you ended up hitting the other car, rear bumper to rear bumper. The slight jolt of your car definitely sent you into a panic. With your heart accelerating in your chest, you adjusted your rear view mirror to see that you had, in fact, hit someone, and the person in that car was driving forward into their bay. Opting to do the same, you took a deep breath before readying yourself to apologise to the owner of the other car. Unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car, you didn’t have to walk far until you were face to face with a very angry-looking man. He snarled at you, as you cowered backwards, pressing your back against your car in fear.

“What the fuck?! What do you think you’re doing? Do you not have any fucking eyes?” The man continued to scream until he finally calmed down, and saw that tears were cascading down your face.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t- I didn’t see you! I’ll pay for the damage,” you pathetically pleaded with him once you got the chance to get a word in. You weren’t good at confrontation, and you certainly weren’t good with getting on anyone’s bad side. He looked at you with concern, and for some strange reason was tempted to reach out and wipe away your tears.

He was good at sensing when someone was lying, or if they were an overall bad person. But he didn’t see that in you. What he did see was that you didn’t have any bad intentions, and that you were quite vulnerable. It didn’t help that you were wearing a pair of dark wash denim overalls and one strap had slid down your shoulder, revealing the entirety of the tiny striped bandeau you wore underneath.

“Look, don’t cry please,” he found himself reaching out and squeezing your shoulder as some sort of way to comfort you. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion as you stared up at him. He must be short tempered, the same way you were easily upset. He looked sort of alternative, his hair was long, and blue and he wore all black. It was quite different to the guy you’d usually find yourself standing across from. He didn’t seem much older than you, and looking back, it was weird that you’d called him sir.

“Hey listen, how about I get you a coffee, and we forget about all this. I don’t think there’s really much damage to my car anyway.”

For some reason, maybe it was the guilt, you agreed.

The coffee shop date was the first of many. You find yourself really liking Kai, and despite his flaws, you thought he had good intentions. He never made you feel uncomfortable, and often joked about how you both first met.

Kai wasn’t shy to compliment you. You’d awoken a side in Kai no one ever thought he had. He loved calling you baby and sweetheart. His eyes lit up every time they found you, and despite his usually scary demeanour, he’d melt into a soft, sorry-excuse for (what he defined was) a man.

The first time you invited Kai back to your apartment to meet your housemate was definitely memorable. Never in a million years did she think she’d see you with a guy like Kai. Kai tried his hardest to sit through the thorough interrogation he got, even though he wanted to slam his fists down on the table and tell her to shut the fuck up. Maybe you were turning him into a better person?

Seeing your bedroom was definitely a shock for Kai. He learnt so much about you by just seeing where you lived. It was definitely different to what he was used to.

“I want to show you something!” You grab onto his big hand and pull him into the direction of where your bed was. Sprawled across its surface, a pastel blue Afghan blanket.

“I made it! It took me almost three days but.. isn’t it beautiful!”

Kai’s eyes widen as you pull the crocheted blanket off the edge of your bed and hold it to your chest. You really were wholesome. The corner of his lips curled up into a small smile just at the glimmer of pride and joy in your eyes.

“And this! It’s called propagation!” Kai stands back as you hold what looked like a sprout of a plant in a test tube of water.

“Looks great baby,” he’d kiss you on the forehead and spend the next hour listening to you explain why you started to crotchet and keep a garden. It wasn’t anything of interest to him, but because you enjoyed it so much, it made him happy. He did learn, though, that one day you wanted to own a big plot of land, so you could have a huge garden and your own animals. He saw himself there with you.

After a few weeks, you’d decided to make Kai his first blanket. For reasons unknown to you, he seemed to really like a unique type of smiley face. It was even the wallpaper on his phone. When you’d asked about it, he brushed it off, saying that he thought it was “cool” and “just a random smiley face”. You thought that it would make for a good blanket.

When you showed up to your next date with a small gift bag, it certainly spiked Kai’s interests.

“What’s that?” He asked, as he leaned down and planted a firm kiss against your soft lips. “Something I made for you,” you answer shyly, your face hot from anticipation. You really wanted him to like it. “You didn’t have to do that sweetheart,” Kai gushes, like the big, soft teddy bear you’d turned him into. “I wanted to! Have a look!” Kai opens the bag and peers inside, his face lighting up into the biggest smile as he pulls out the cobalt-blue blanket.

“Baby… holy shit, this is incredible!” Kai laughs in disbelief as he runs his fingers over the crocheted threads. When Kai notices that the blanket has some red detailing, he sprawls it out across the table, and then his heart sinks.

“Do you like it? Look, it’s the smiley face you like!” You just giggled proudly to yourself as Kai stood frozen. He knew you had no idea what it meant and it reminded him how guilty he felt for keeping it from you. He shook his head quickly to snap out of it, before leaning over to give you a grateful kiss. You were his escape from reality.

“You’re truly amazing and so talented, I love it! Thank you baby.”

Soon Kai would find himself sitting back in a deck chair and watching you as you fussed over the garden on your balcony. Sometimes, he’d even step in to help when you dragged him into it. Gardening isn’t something he ever thought he’d like, but, somehow it was proving to relax his usually racing mind.

“Kai! Our first strawberry!” You’d tug at the strawberry vine, and hold the fruit up proudly between your fingertips. Kai’s cold heart melted just hearing you call it “ours”. You situate yourself in Kai’s lap, holding onto his shoulder with one hand, and feeding him the fresh strawberry with the other. Kai thought it tasted better than any strawberry he’d ever had, purely because you’d grown it.

You began to wonder why Kai never invited you over to his place. Every time you’d bring it up, just like the smiley face, he’d have some sort of vague excuse.

“My sister is there, she’s always got people over. There just isn’t much privacy.” “Privacy?” You’d ask, staring at him with doe-like eyes, “what do we need that for?”

Kai would distract you from your question for the next 30 minutes by sitting you in his lap, your back pressed against his chest. He knew the best way to keep you from worrying was to make you cum. That, or you might cry.

“Kai?” You voice quivered as Kai gently opened your legs and slid a hand into your shorts. Almost immediately your head would fall back to rest against his shoulder, as the pads of his fingertips toy with your clit from over your panties.

“Do you like when I touch you like that, baby?” He’d ask with his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. You’d make no attempt at a reply, lost in your own head by his delicate touch. His fingers would eventually pull your panties to the side, and his slick fingers would run from your entrance up to your sensitive bundle of nerves, blissfully back and forth between your folds. Your hips would buckle to chase the pressure building between your legs. Even you had to admit, no one could make you come like Kai could.

You were good at making blankets and clothes and harvesting small gardens, and he was good at pleasuring you. He’d whisper praise in your ear, telling you how proud he was of you, how wet you were for him, and how much of a good girl you were for letting go for him.

Keeping you happy and satisfied was Kai’s way of making up for all the bad things he’d done in the past.

#evan peters #evan peters fanfic #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters requests #evan peters smut #evan peters imagine #evan peters x reader #american horror story #2nd person pov #fem!reader #kai anderson smut #kai anderson fan fiction #ahs kai anderson #kai anderson #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson x y/n #kai anderson x you #kai anderson headcanon

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Hi there! First, I wanna say I absolutely love your works; they are all great, and I enjoy reading every one of their reactions!

Can I request to see HLC (including professors) react to MC sniffing them (out for many reasons, but mainly they want to remember their smell)? Just genuinely curious about what they would usually smell like :) Thank you! And wish to see more works of yours!

A/N: laughing so hard the whole time writing this 🤣

HLC REACT TO MC SNIFFING THEM

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: Old books and smoke. He smells like a stack of forgotten tomes that were set on fire. He raises an eyebrow and laughs. "You're not going to lick me next, are you?"

OMINIS GAUNT: Clean linens and a touch of mint. "...did you just sniff me?" One would think he'd be used to MC's weird behavior by now. Alas, he is not.

ANNE SALLOW: Wild flowers. She smells like she's been laying out in a meadow in spring. She smells her own robes. "What? Do I smell bad?"

IMELDA REYES: Broom polish and various wood scents. She gives MC a strong side-eye glare. "What are you doing?"

NATSAI ONAI: Incense and fresh cut grass. She gives MC an unsure look but smiles anyway. "You're acting strange. Even by your standards."

GARRETH WEASLEY: He smells like an apothecary shop threw up on him, that also exploded. "What? Do I still smell like burnt rat hair? I thought I got that out."

LEANDER PREWETT: Cheap cologne that screams "try hard", but at the same time isn't overly offensive. He side steps away from MC. "Please, stop that."

AMIT THAKKAR: Parchment and spilled ink. He startles when MC sniffs him and he jumps away like a startled cat. "What was that about?"

EVERETT CLOPTON: Depends on the day. There is no consistency with him. Some days he smells like a pack of dung bombs, others he smells like a summer breeze. He sweats nervously, hoping that MC doesn't smell dung bombs.

POPPY SWEETING: Ever smelled a horse with feathers? That's her. She watches MC curiously. "What are you sniffing around like a niffler for?"

~~~

ELEAZAR FIG: A well kept library. Old leather and parchment. He sniffs MC back. "I'd say we're both due for a wash after all the running around we've been doing."

MATILDA WEASLEY: Orchids, her favorite floral scent. She gives MC an unsure glance. "You could just ask what perfume I use."

CHIYO KOGAWA: Leather and sweat. Even with quidditch canceled, she's always out and about the grounds. "Don't sniff. That's rather rude."

AESOP SHARP: The wizard equivalent of Old Spice and a hint of fire whiskey. He just rolls his eyes. He doesn't get paid enough for this.

ABRAHAM RONEN: Sugar and cinnamon. Always smells like he just came back from Honeydukes. "Oh my, do I smell bad?" He's genuinely concerned and smells his own robes.

MIRABEL GARLICK: A garden. Flowers, soil, pottery; the whole shabang. "I was repotting mandrakes with the third years today. Sorry if I smell a bit ripe." She laughs.

MUDIWA ONAI: Incense and palm oil. She offers MC some incense. "Would you like to burn some for your dorm? You smell like you could use it."

BAI HOWIN: She works in beast pens all day. Enough said. MC doesn't even need to get close to smell her on some days.

DINAH HECAT: Amazingly. Nothing. Her time as an unspeakable has taught her to be undetectable, even by smell. Old habits die hard.

CUTHBERT BINNS: He doesn't so much give off a scent, as he does a cold chill if MC gets too close.

SATYAVATI SHAH: VERY faint smell of cherry blossom. She's very guarded of her personal space, so MC will have a hard time catching it.

PHINEAS NIGELLUS BLACK: Expensive cologne and hair tonic. He steps away from MC. Ew. Students.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy reactions #hogwarts legacy professors #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #anne sallow #imelda reyes #natsai onai #garreth weasley #leander prewett #amit thakkar #everett clopton #poppy sweeting #eleazar fig #aesop sharp

[daliasmay]

The most ridiculous arguments I've ever seen from E/riels is not about "the smell of bread and roses", no, but about the sunshine she needs in her life, black dress and about that godforsaken city. It takes a megamind to use such arguments.

"Velaris has sunshine", "There's sun in the NC too", "The NC is a sun court we remind you", "Some flowers can bloom in the dark"

Even if the NC has a sun, it it still a night fucking court. n-i-g-h-t. This word means something, isn't it? Spring also has nights and it wasn't a right place for Feyre anyway. And you'd think Elain and Elucien's words about sunshine are just about only the damn flowers and the sun in the sky that rises in the morning and goes down in the evening. Please!

"They dressed her badly so that Eris would ignore her, lol", "They dressed her like that on purpose because they didn't want Elaine's beauty to overshadow Nesta's"

What the fuck?

Eris is completely indifferent to Elain as a woman. It isn't difficult to understand. And he is Lucien's brother, just fun to remember, who saved his life, looked at him with sadness in ACOWAR and visited him in ACOSF. Eris was interested only in Nesta. He is also a fashionable male and he looked at Elain with ✨assessing gaze✨. I suppose he's also noticed how much the black colour doesn't suit her (She used the perfect complement to her black dress - pearls - but even that couldn't save her from the colour that sucked the life out of her), not to mention the fact that he probably knows that she's his brother's mate. So delulu and simple demonstrating a zero reading skills if they understand the text like that. Basta!

It is also equally unfair to both sisters to say that. Nesta is a queen without her sisters, she is amazing woman by her own without any "help". She doesn't need any favours.

Elain is amazing woman, no need to dress her badly on purpose to make someone shine.

Sisters are amazing by their own. They all have their own powers and characters. I feel so sorry for those who don't understand it and use such stupid arguments to explain their ship.

"She is ok in Velaris, Velaris is her home, no need to worry about the Hewn City", "Her home in Velaris and in the NC. She doesn't want to leave the place where her family and nephew lives!!! She has a work - tending to Feyre's gardens and helping people in Velaris with theirs. She is happy!", "The Hewn City is not Elaine's place, that's why she was ridiculous there, Cassian meant that", "She can live in Velaris, she was healthy there!", "You want to take her away from the family that she loves and that loves her. You are a misogynist and Elain hater!", "Cassian is an unreliable narrator, he understand nothing in fashion. We can't believe him!"

PLEASE!

Night Court is her home, but not the Hewn City and Illyrians lands. Night Court is her home, but only in the borders of that retched city. How can they claim that the Night Court is her home, and at the same time erase most of the Court, including its official capital and royal residence?

Velaris is a huge hole that has been closed for thousands of years, and The Night Court is not Velaris, ThE CoUrT oF DrEaMs, how SJM called them, who loves to segregate their own citizens and think about 90% of the Court as scum and lowlifes, and do nothing to make their lives better.

If the Night Court is her home, don't sort its parts.

Cassian is an unreliable narrator, but Feyre with her fantasies and "What if the Cauldron was wrong?" is a very-very reliable narrator, yes-yes. Selective reading will strike you one day and it will be very hurt.

And here we are, with Elain and flowers, when she said the opposite to Nesta in ACOSF. Being Feyre's gardener and personal family baker aren't about her personal growth. Like being Azriel's personal houseplant.

The black dress was a metaphor. It is so cute how they can see things that are not there, but miss the log in their own eyes. (the rose necklace and the whole Azriel's bonus chapter, I can't).

I really don't know how they came up with that.

#anti e/riel #pro elucien #elucien #dasha: acotar thoughts #pro nesta archeron #lucien vanserra #eris vanserra #anti inner circle #anti ic

[dairyminki]

Acquiescence || j.wy

PAIRING — jung wooyoung x fem!reader ... GENRE — fluff, angst, strangers to lovers ... WARNING/S — major character death, mentions and descriptions of hospital, pet names, reader has achromatopsia, mild profanities ... WC — 7.7k

AUTHOR'S NOTE — i had this fic idea hiding in my drafts with only the title finished bcos i felt like it wasn't the right time for me to write it just yet, so i let it sit. and just when i thought this story will never see the light, stormy august happened, i got all angsty, and i was able to pour all my emotions on this fic. and now, i'm posting it for sad september, yay! anyway, special thanks to @hotteoki and @jaehunnyy for beta-reading this one ^^

SYNOPSIS — a life painted in shades of black, white, and gray, sparks a certain yearning for something brand new deep inside of you. but what if that 'something brand new' comes in the form of a boy and his camera? will his presence be able to alter the monotonous world you live in into a world where the colors of the rainbow are freely dancing?

*reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! ♡

— ☁️

ac·qui·es·cence

: the reluctant acceptance of something without protest.

achro·​ma·​top·​sia

: a visual defect that is marked by total color blindness in which the colors of the spectrum are seen as tones of white, gray, and black, by poor visual acuity, and by extreme sensitivity to bright light

☁️.... playlist!

To you, it was peaceful.

How the scratchy sound of the pencil's nib against your sketchbook was the only thing you could hear, how the hues of black, gray, and white were the only ones that filled your vision, and how it was only the smell of fresh grass that lingered in the cool morning air.

But at the same time, it was depressing.

How those were the only things that constantly stimulated your senses. Always the same every morning, unless it were to rain.

You don't think any word was fitting enough to describe what you currently feel. Deep inside you, there's a yearning for something brand new. To alter the monotonous life you have in exchange for a life filled with an endless spark of delirium or one where the world before your eyes appears bright-colored.

Sitting on one of the wooden benches found in the hospital's garden inevitably makes your thoughts and emotions fly around. Sometimes, it's the feeling of hope budding inside your chest, but most times it was the heavy weight of despair forming over your head like a gloomy gray cloud.

Gray.

Now that is a shade you know by heart. A shade you've grown to appreciate that if anyone asks you what your favorite color is, gray would be your automatic answer.

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, pink, and many others, are colors you could only wish and dream to see. When people around you talk about how blue the sky is, or how an evergreen tree looks, it makes you wonder deeply how on earth they look like. Are they as pretty as your favorite color? Or are they something more? Something that'd get you marveling hard and for long.

"Y/N? Y/N~?" You hear the familiar voice calling your name in a sing-song. When you turn your head around, you catch sight of shoe-clad feet before you see the face of your lovely nurse from day one—Nurse Aliah.

"There you are!" She exclaims, walking towards you with a huge smile on her face which you mimic as you close your sketchbook.

"Time's up for me already?" You ask, a bit dejected.

As much as you've grown to treat your hospital room as your home, that doesn't mean you've grown to love staring at the mundane four walls and smelling the overpowering scent of antiseptic and cleaning agents clouding your senses.

"Why? Don't feel like going back yet?" Nurse Aliah asks, making you scoot over so she can sit beside you.

Replying with a mere nod of your head, she sighs, patting you gently on the back. Then, she takes a glance at her wristwatch, saying, "I suppose I could give you half an hour more. I mean no one has to know, right?" She sends you a playful wink.

"That's more than enough, thank you."

"No problem at all, darling. But before I go, can I have a little peek at your sketches?" Nurse Aliah asks, gesturing at the sketchbook on your lap which you immediately hide behind you.

"No!" You laugh. "No peeking until I finish it."

Your answer got her frowning, but she stood nonetheless, muttering a sulky 'fine.'

"The sun's about to reach its peak in a little while, so put your cap on, alright?" She reminds, prompting you to nod your head before she finally leaves the garden.

With Nurse Aliah gone, you grab your cap beside you, wearing it, before you find yourself admiring your surroundings once more, taking in deep breaths as if the earth's air supply was about to run out, and then you're opening your sketchbook and diving back inside the world of art.

Sketching different things brings you peace—if some feel anxious leaving their houses without their phones or watches on, for you it's the same when you leave your mechanical pencil or any of your sketchbooks and drawing pads behind.

Art enables you to cope with all the imperfections you were forced to carry with you ever since you were born to walk the earth with your tiny feet.

You might not be able to see and appreciate colors as much as everyone does, but you do love being able to weave lines, shapes, and patterns from the tip of your pencil.

Click!

Your grip on the pencil loosens when you hear the sound of a camera shutter and someone cursing. Looking to your left, you see a male who looks the same age as you, holding a camera in his hand—his hair is quite long, he has styled fringes framing the sides of his face, and he is smiling sheepishly at you.

"Did you…just take a picture of me?" You asked, squinting your eyes at him and tilting your head to the side. You see him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing, all the while he lowers his camera.

"Shit, I'm sorry!" He exclaims—his voice, pitchy. Then he proceeds to ramble aloud, "I didn't mean to startle you, I was just taking a look around, trying to find anything pretty to capture, and then I saw you, and I…I'm sorry."

"Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to take someone's photo without asking their permission?" By now you were standing, approaching the male and his camera. When you stick out a hand, he instantly gives his camera to you and you find yourself staring at a picture of yourself on the screen.

What he did was rude, yes, but you can't help but be in awe at the way he was able to capture you looking so immersed in your drawing—your furrowed brows and your tongue darting out of your slightly opened mouth because you're concentrating hard.

"I should be mad but, it's actually a pretty photo," You say, slightly abashed.

The male in front of you chuckles. Then he asks, "So, does that mean I get to keep this pretty picture of you?"

At the mention of the word 'pretty,' you feel your cheeks heat up. Coughing out loud and not meeting him in the eyes, you reply, "Only if you're not some creepy stalker, then I suppose you can."

"I'm not! I actually did it for a school project."

Hearing him say that made your ears perk.

"Oh, really? What's it about?" You can't help but ask, not being able to hold back with your natural curiosity for things.

"Nothing much, really," He starts. "We were just told to visit someplace we hadn't been to before and then capture something that catches our eye. Once we can do that, we will be asked to share about it in class."

After he explains, you find yourself asking him more.

"What else did you take a picture of?"

"You…were the first really." He answers with his free hand rubbing at his nape. As for you, his answer got your cheeks even hotter.

"Oh." You end up saying, not really knowing how to respond further. Luckily, he opens up another topic, and later on you're back sitting on the bench you previously sat on, but with him beside you.

"So you're telling me you've never been to a hospital before?"

"Nu-uh. Never," He answers, fiddling with the buttons of his camera. "Uhm, how about you? Did you…"

You knew what he meant despite him not fully voicing it out. Thank goodness you didn't see that one thing you really hate, in his eyes, though—pity.

"Been here since I was five," You say as you stare up at the sky. The gray-looking sky that always accompanied you whenever you were out here in the garden.

"What are you here for?" You could gather a hint of hesitance in his voice, most probably not wanting to pry considering you've only just met. But he's just like you, curious.

"I'm color-blind," You begin. And just when you were about to tell him more, you heard someone calling you.

"Y/N!"

You turn your head and see Nurse Aliah approaching you. From a distance, you could already see the questioning in her gaze.

"I—ah, unfortunately, have to go now," You say, picking up your sketchbook and standing up.

"Oh."

"Yeah, um, I'm grateful I was able to cross paths with you today," You tell him with all honesty. And you think you see him bite back a smile.

"The way you say it, makes it sound like, us, meeting was something big."

"Well, maybe it is," You grinned at him. "I'm Y/N, by the way." You say, extending a hand for a handshake which he immediately accepts.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Wooyoung," He responds before you wave at him goodbye and run towards Nurse Aliah with a smile still lingering on your face and her look of questioning not fading away in the slightest.

"Who was that?" She asks as the both of you start to walk back inside the hospital.

"Hmm, just someone who thinks I'm pretty."

—

The following day, you asked Nurse Aliah if you could go out again. When she asked you why, you simply told her that the fresh air and the calming surroundings got you more motivated to finish sketching, and not because you were kind of hoping for a certain long-haired male to find his way back to the garden, no, not at all.

Well, not that you were going to admit and let her know anyway.

You fell into the same routine as yesterday without any difficulty. By now, the subject you were trying to draw was getting more defined. Just a little more shadings here and-

"Smile!"

Instead of smiling as the chirpy voice told you to do so, you think your caught-off-guard face was what the camera was able to capture.

"You could've warned me!" You exclaim after a few moments of just blinking and nothing but your mind trying to register the sound of the shutter that went off earlier and the laughter of the newcomer.

The very reason why you wanted to escape the stuffy walls of the hospital again.

"I take pride in my candid shots, though." Wooyoung pouts.

"You only started taking pictures yesterday!" You point out.

"Okay, and?"

"Ugh, just let me see the picture," You say, though it sounds more like a demand. A demand that Wooyoung refuses to follow through.

"No, this one is for my eyes only." Wooyoung sticks his tongue out at you and then,, later on has this shit-eating grin on his face.

In the end, you give up trying to get the camera from him. The moment you decide to set your focus back on your drawing, silence envelops you two—not the awkward kind though. It was more like those silence that'll have you sighing in relief, and everything else around you sounding like calming waves.

And amidst the silence was Wooyoung near a flower bush with his camera out. You don't know what colors the flowers are in but you do remember Nurse Aliah telling you they are called Chrysanthemums and that they smell sweet.

"Wooyoung," You say after a minute of just staring at him snapping a couple of photos of the said flower. "What color are those flowers?" You ask.

Without taking his peering eyes off the viewfinder, he answers, "They're purple!"

Purple—you know they're the color of grapes, your favorite fruit. You've wondered since then if purple was anything like how the fruit tasted.

"How about your hair, Woo?"

Woo—that's new, and the way the nickname rolled off your tongue actually felt nice.

"It's black, probably just the way you see it!" He answers, and then you see him finally lowering his camera and smiling to himself while he walks back toward you on the bench.

"Were you able to capture something pretty?" You ask him as soon as he drops his weight on the bench, his shoulder touching yours.

"I did. It's quite a lot. But…" Wooyoung trails off, and then he's looking at you with a cheeky grin. "...they're not as pretty as you though."

At that remark, you feel heat rush towards your face, however, you don't look away from his gaze, just yet. Your thoughts begin to wander again, as you think of what the color of his eyes are and if they're the same as yours, or the color of the shirt he's wearing, and his camera too. You could've asked those questions aloud but you didn't.

Instead, you ask, "If I were a color, what color would I be, Woo?"

Wooyoung briefly seemed to appear as if he was in deep thought, with his head tilting to the side, his eyes roaming all over you, and his lips pursing.

"That's a question I can't answer after just a day of knowing you, Y/N." He answers truthfully. "How about I'll get back to you after a month?" He proposes.

A month could be awfully long for some, and short for others who are patient enough. You're not sure which one of the two are you, although you still nod your head at Wooyoung.

And a month? Sure, you could wait. Time flies fast these days, after all.

—

Days turned to weeks, and by now, you've grown accustomed and comfortable with Wooyoung's presence.

He was just the right amount of loud, funny, and kind, that even your Nurse Aliah has opened up to him already.

"You smile a lot nowadays," Nurse Aliah comments one time while you're resting inside your room and she's replacing your newly emptied bowl of grapes with a fresh set.

"Is it bad?" You ask as you stare at the ceiling, not really thinking of anything—just the little joke Wooyoung told you a day ago repeatedly tickling your head.

You hear the clinking of the fruit bowl for the last time before you hear the rustling of your bed sheet.

"It's not bad per se, but…"

Her unsaid words send the all too familiar sinking feeling creeping its way back into your chest. A feeling you've tried so hard to push to the back of your mind, only for it to resurface once again.

"Don't," You plead in a small voice, eyes closed. When you open them again, you're looking straight at her, hot tears lingering in the corner of your eyes. You tried hard to blink them back.

But when was the last time you let them fall? When was the last time you allowed yourself to feel sadness? When was the last time you willingly set hope free and embraced despair?

"Alright, I…I just want to let you know today will be the last time you'll be able to go out Y/N. Tomorrow, Dr. Lee will be here to check on you."

Not being able to stop the dam from breaking, you just nod your head to whatever Nurse Aliah is saying. You feel her caress your hair before the door to your room closes with a thud.

Tears spilled—rolling down the apples of your cheeks until they're gliding past your lips, enabling you to taste their saltiness. And then you're sitting up, pulling your leg close to your chest with your head resting on the wall as you stare at the window.

You sigh. Feeling all the energy you possess going down the drain.

You suddenly remember all the things the younger you had to suffer through just because you weren't normal just like how everyone was. You remember how you'd run into things and tripped over them because everything seemed dark and dull. You remember how other kids would play outside at the playground while their parents would sit there on the benches and talk about how the sun looked so bright.

You've never directly looked at the sunlight. It hurt your eyes, even until now. Hence, every time you go out, you always wear a cap on your head just to shield your eyes from the light radiated by the sun. Anyone else would've worn sunglasses to deal with that, and you've tried—once. After that, you came to Nurse Aliah, crying, because you felt suffocated while wearing them. And that continued until you were older—any type of glasses having the same effect on you.

Childhood for you was tough. Luckily, Nurse Aliah was there to somehow make it less hard for you to deal with the world and reality. Making you smile, laugh, and enjoy the little things—Nurse Aliah was your only family. She contributed to igniting the spark of hope inside you.

And now, there's Wooyoung—his smile, his raucous laughter, and the way he sweeps his fringes to the side out of habit. Just Wooyoung and the click of his camera, his camera roll that's probably full of your stolen shots now. Just Wooyoung trying to peek at whatever you're drawing while you're so adamant not to show him. Just Wooyoung discreetly picking out a random flower from the bush and putting it behind your ear.

It sends a rush of warmth all over you—something warmer than what you get when you're spending time with Nurse Aliah. No, Wooyoung's was something else.

You place your right hand on your chest, and there it is. The faint sound of your heart beating, increasing, as your mind gets filled more by the said male.

It feels foreign, but it's nice. Really nice.

And with that, you know you're ready to face another day with the open sky and Wooyoung's presence keeping you intact and aground.

—

After all the crying you've done, you felt light and at ease. As you walk out into the hallways and down to the ground floor, you find yourself greeting more people you encounter along the way. You can't help but notice the smile sticking to your lips, and surprisingly, it didn't hurt you with how wide it was.

Your smile only seems to get brighter when you spot Wooyoung's familiar figure outside. He's by the same bench you two sit on with his back facing you.

Giggling, you were eager to reach where he stood.

But then it happens.

Just when you were about to run and shout his name, it happened.

Instead of shouting his name, you find yourself gasping for air, feeling as if your throat was closing in on you. With your heart irregularly beating painfully against your chest you drop to the ground, feeling faint and cold with sweat.

You don't register much about what happened next but swore you heard screams around you and the last-minute turning and running Wooyoung made toward you.

Blurry grayness was the last thing you saw before everything turned black.

—

There were voices around you and the sound of a machine.

Fluttering your eyes open, you recognize you are in your room—lying on a bed with a few tubes connected to your body, and then gently shifting your eyes to the door where the sound came from, you see a familiar back and your Nurse Aliah, talking in low voices. Though, not low enough, seeing as they awoke you.

Nurse Aliah notices your awoken state first, you see her whisper something to Wooyoung before she attends to your side.

"Hey, darling," She began in a soft voice, almost lulling. When her fingers brushed through your hair, you swore sleep was tempting you to go back into its arms once again. But you stopped yourself.

"How are we feeling?" Nurse Aliah asks. You find yourself clearing your dry throat, unable to answer. You give her an okay sign, instead.

Immediately, she gets a glass of water from your bedside table. She gently guides you to a sitting position, before she hands the drink to you.

"I'm glad you're awake, Y/N. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go call Dr. Lee. Meanwhile, you can go ahead and talk with your lover boy over there. Sounds good?"

You could only roll your eyes at her, shooing her away.

Wooyoung instantly came to your side after the door closed. He pulls out a chair for him to sit on and then just stares at you. You find yourself looking down at the empty glass in your hand, with the silence the male was giving you.

You can't figure out if he's angry, sad, or disappointed. If he only sees you as a weak and undesirable thing he no longer wants anything to do with.

"What's my pretty girl thinking, hmm?" Wooyoung asks, gently taking the glass out of your hold, and replacing it with his hands.

Wooyoung's hands felt warm against your slightly cold ones and you liked it.

"I'm thinking that I'm sorry, I'm sorry for not telling you," You answer truthfully, now finding the courage to reciprocate his gaze on you. But then, a gasp leaves you when you see how puffy his eyes are.

"Have you been crying?" You ask, pulling your hands from him and cupping his face. Your thumbs trace the bags of his eyes while Wooyoung leans into your touch.

"If I did, what's my pretty girl going to do about it?" Wooyoung asks with a small chuckle, in an attempt to lighten up the mood inside the four walls.

"Am I really still pretty to you, Woo?" You asked in a weak voice, tone laced with disbelief.

"Y/N, y'know that's a stupid question, right? Love, you'll forever be pretty in my eyes, and I—y'know yourself I'm good at finding pretty things, right? That's how I found you."

"Woo…"

"If you think that me, seeing you like this will change anything, then you're so wrong for that."

"Woo-"

"Is it shitty of me if I say that I'm in love with you, right now?"

You're caught off guard when Wooyoung starts crying, his tears wetting your fingers. With him breaking down in front of you, you can't help but cry as well, pulling his head to your chest in hopes that your heartbeat was loud enough for him to hear that it was actually screaming his name.

"I don't want you wasting your tears on me, please…" Your voice was croaky after a while, tears having dried on your cheeks, while Wooyoung's sobs still hadn't subsided.

"I don't know about you but I'm not feeling funny enough to laugh right now," He answers with a chuckle and you laugh as well, still cradling his head against you.

If you could, and if you only knew how, you'd lessen the pain he's feeling.

Absorbing all the pain coursing through him until you become numb, you'll do so. And if you could control time you would love to rewind it to the time he took a photo of you without permission.

If you acted coldly towards him and sent him away, would you still find yourselves in this position?

Will Wooyoung still weave his way into your fragile heart and your colorless life?

Will you still find yourself falling in love at the last minute with him?

You don't know.

But you do know you feel the same way as him.

Who knew that that delicate heart of yours was still capable of welcoming a powerful force called love inside?

—

Most of your days were filled with your doctor and nurse checking up on you at every possible chance. The wheelchair has become your friend, and instead of getting out into the garden and finding Wooyoung, the tables turned. Wooyoung, being the one who found his way to your hospital room, started constantly visiting you with a different set of flowers every day to adorn the lonely vase sitting atop your bedside table.

Unlike the other days though, this time, he was kind of late. Even Nurse Aliah didn't get to peek inside after the early morning check-up she did on you today. It was strange, you think.

Starting to feel bored, you decided to take a quick look at your finished drawings and the letters you wrote slipped into one of the pages of your sketchbook

Then, you hear the door to your room opening. Instead of Nurse Aliah, though, Wooyoung's adorable peeking head was the one you saw.

"Woo!" You exclaim, putting a sweet smile on his face as he welcomes himself in.

Immediately, you open your arms for him, and he fits in perfectly when he engulfs you in a soft hug. You feel his lips against your temple, and if you could, you'd choose to stay in this position, just basking in all the warmth he could offer and all the kisses he'd get to spoil you with.

"I have a surprise for you."

"What is it?" You whisper back at him. Then, he's pulling away, a hesitant look on his face.

You looked at him, confused, asking, "Is there something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong! It's just that, Nurse Aliah told me you're not really fond of these, but, I was hoping if…" Wooyoung trails off, and then he takes something out of the small bag that he brought with him. "...can you please, wear them for me, just this time?"

In his hand was a case, and when he opened it, you saw a pair of glasses.

Your breath hitches.

"Is this—h-how were you able to—Woo, I-"

Unbeknownst to you, you were panicking, and Wooyoung was doing all his best to calm you off the overwhelming feeling encapsulating you.

When you've calmed down, he proceeds to ask again, "Will you wear them for me, love?" in a much softer voice.

You nod your head, tears brushing your cheeks, while smiling hard and mumbling a few yeses.

"Thank you, my pretty girl," Wooyoung says, showering you with butterfly kisses, prompting giggles out of you.

"Are you ready?" Wooyoung asks before you take the glasses out of its case. Nodding eagerly as a reply, you put them on, unable to control the blinking of your eyes as they adjust.

An immense feeling grows in your chest, your words stuck in your throat when you finally get to look at Wooyoung and see what his gorgeous eyes are colored in. When you asked him what color they were, he told you they were brown, the same as yours.

Minutes later, as soon as Wooyoung sees you're all set, he pulls you up from your bed, helps you wear your shoes, and then guides you every step until you're sitting in your wheelchair.

Turns out it was blue—your wheelchair. And blue is such a pretty color, you think. Though, after seeing the color of Wooyoung's eyes, you think nothing could ever compare with it.

—

It was your first time being able to see the garden with the stars present, twinkling up above.

Wearing the special glasses that Wooyoung has gifted you, you can't help but cry at the overwhelming colors filling your vision.

Wooyoung and Nurse Aliah told you that it won't make you see all the colors the world is painted in, but at least it was no longer just black, white, and gray—the three same colors your world was revolving in.

Another surprise welcomes you hard when you notice the transformation the garden had to go through with all the fairy lights hanging from each tree.

Green—a color you know that dominates the earth. You are so delighted to be able to see such a refreshing and tranquil color. A color you wouldn't mind looking at forever.

"Did you do all of this for me?" You ask Wooyoung in between shivers, that the latter had to stop wheeling you from behind for a minute. He crouches down in front of you, tightening the jacket around you, and sensing that it isn't enough to shield you from the cold nightly breeze, he takes off his own and puts it on you.

"Hmm, though I did ask Nurse Aliah and a few others for help. Do I look like I could pull off this surprise by myself?"

"Of course not." You playfully scoff.

"I know I asked, but I can't help but feel offended."

Laughter filled the rest of the path you took toward the very bright evergreen tree in the far distance. The sound of the crickets and the luminous moonlight accompanied you two as well.

"Is that—are we having a picnic?" You gasped, spotting a blanket lying over the green grass, a basket, and a set of empty plates over it. You think you even see a bottle of your favorite drink peeking out of the basket.

"Yes, we are, pretty." Wooyoung responds, but then something else catches your attention that you almost want to abandon your wheelchair and just say, 'fuck it,' and run.

You realize that not only fairy lights hang from the evergreen tree, but also pictures.

When you get nearer, you feel your heartbeat becoming louder. And when the wheelchair halts—Wooyoung carrying you afterward towards the area he set for you two—you were able to see the pictures much closer.

At first, all you see were the different flowers Wooyoung captured in his camera—they were a myriad of colors; pink, blue, red, and purple.

You found purple to be the loveliest.

"Is that—?" You turn your head to Woooyoung as your finger points to a certain picture of two people.

Wooyoung only nods.

It was a picture of you and your Nurse Aliah. Bright smiles graced your lips. Your arms were around each other and you were wearing your cap which surprisingly is colored purple as well.

Maybe, Nurse Aliah knew that purple was bound to replace gray as your favorite color in the long run, and the color didn't disappoint you at the very least.

"Thank you," You tell Wooyoung as he puts you down on the blanket. Everything looks magical. Like a scene pulled out from a movie, a scene you didn't expect to live out.

And just when you thought Wooyoung's surprise had reached its end, you thought wrong when he handed you a photo album. Well, it looked more identical to a scrapbook, with your name on the cover formed using cutout magazine letters.

When you open it, you see a short letter written on the first page with what seems to be Wooyoung's penmanship. From his penmanship alone, you could identify what his personality is like. And you thought it was endearing.

However, when you flipped to the next page, your eyes widened, breath hitching as your gaze stayed fixed on the very first picture pasted on.

It was that picture Wooyoung took that got you so caught off guard. The one he so adamantly tried to hide from you.

One of the candid photos he took pride in—you with your eyes staring wide at the camera, your mouth ajar, the pencil you were holding slipping out of your grip mid-air.

You were quite shy to admit it but you now understand why Wooyoung said it was for his eyes only.

It was a pretty picture.

—

Deeper into the night, Wooyoung finds himself running his fingers through your hair while you're laying your head on his lap, watching the stars dance in the endless obsidian sky.

Having you close like this, he gets to realize how frail you appear to be, one touch and he fears you'll break. A second of looking away from you and he's afraid you'll slip away from the clutch he has on you.

But then, there was your smile, ever blinding, and it made him think there was nothing wrong. That this was simply a storm passing by and that tomorrow a rainbow shall greet him from the bluish sky.

"Ask me again, Y/N," He asks after a while of comfortable silence, you merely humming back, eyes questioning him with what he means by that.

"Ask me the same question you asked me a month ago."

And just like that, bliss danced in your irises, but then you sat up a little bit too fast that it worried Wooyoung for a bit. However, the joy in your face never seemed to fade, and that was enough to reassure him that you didn't experience any pain of some sort.

"What color am I to you, Woo?" You paraphrased the question you dropped on him a month ago, one he couldn't answer yet. But now, he thinks he got it all memorized.

"My dear Y/N, if you were a color," He starts, leaning in towards you, his hands cupping your face and then he's resting his forehead against yours. "You'd be every color in the rainbow."

To Wooyoung, you were purple—a color that's meant for uniqueness and the artistic side of life, which you surely have running in your blood. Purple was a color that could relax the overall senses, which is why it's no surprise to him that it was now your favorite color.

Although, he believes you're also blue—not the feeling, though. Blue was a perfect color to describe your calm demeanor to others. Just like the feeling one gets from looking at the sky—breathtaking, pure, serene, and easy to look at. Wooyoung thinks he gets all of that just from a single glance at you.

But then you're also green. Softness and growth. In the short amount of time, he got the privilege to spend with you, he knows you've become more open to everything. You've once told him about what your past looked like and to be honest? He thinks you've started to learn to let go of the painful parts that once scarred you—like a leaf falling from the tree and letting the air carry it to anywhere it'd take it.

Yellow and orange are colors that represent joy and energy—you exude both. Wooyoung sees a certain glow in you, and he thinks Nurse Aliah will agree with him if he claims that the energy you possess is one of a kind, something that needs to be shared with everyone else.

A glow that gravitates people towards you.

And maybe that was one of the reasons that made Wooyoung stumble his way to you that very day you two first met.

Will you end up believing him if he said that that project was something he was forced to do? Wooyoung had never even touched a single camera until that day. And looking at how bright his world looks right now in front of him, he's glad he decided to do it.

"And lastly, you're red. You radiate passion and warmth, Y/N," Wooyoung tells you, never breaking away his gaze from you, and not caring if he ends up cross-eyed.

"You are love itself, and every day I wake up beyond grateful that I'm one of those people whom you've decided to share a piece of yourself with."

"Woo…" You say, already sniffling, while he's now finding it hard to see through his tears.

"Can I…Can I kiss you?" He asks, his hands shaking.

"You'll probably be my first and last-"

Wooyoung cuts you off with the tender feeling of his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was messy and frantic at first, like time was chasing you away, and was salty with all the tears. But then, every brush of your lips against his' turns into something sweet, making his insides flutter and his heart beat like he just ran a mile. Wooyoung feels warm all over as one of his hands found your waist, the other delicately holding your chin, and if he could wish for one thing, he would love to wish for this moment right here to stop as it is.

But the thing is, he can't.

He knows any moment now, an endless slumber shall find you. And if he can, he would like not to waste any remaining second he's got with you left.

"Woo, I'm tired," Wooyoung hears you say in a small voice after a while, a yawn escaping your lips and your eyes getting droopy.

He gently lifts you, placing you on his lap while letting your head rest in the crook of his neck. And then he's wrapping his arms around your body layered with jackets, cradling you like a baby.

"Woo?" He hears you speak once again. He hums back in response.

"Look at me, please?" You plead in a soft voice which almost breaks his heart there and then. But he looks at you, and when he does, he thinks he saw your eyes shine with the littlest spark it could still muster to show.

"Your eyes are really pretty," You say. Wooyoung looks away, fearing you'll see him cry. And he doesn't want you to go after seeing him in that state. Instead, he hugs you a little tighter.

"The sky is a witness to how grateful I am to have crossed paths with you, I hope you know…just how lucky I am and how happy I feel right now," You say with a contented sigh, and based on the way your cheek moved against his skin, he knows you're smiling right now.

But it turns out you weren't finished.

"My life was dull and repetitively the same until you came along with all your colors. Thank you for letting me feel how love feels like, I love you…and I'd like to believe I'll still do until we meet again."

That was the last time he heard your voice drifting in the wind before the chirping of the crickets increased tenfold.

"I love you, too, always, my pretty girl." Wooyoung gets to say before his entire body stills, your last intake of breath reaching his ears and your last exhale fanning his neck.

And then he's shaking, another batch of tears washing over him as he cries silently, slowly rocking your body with his, back and forth, and dropping soft kisses on the top of your head.

I don't want you wasting your tears on me, please.

He hears at the back of his head, bringing him back to the moment he saw you so fragile-looking for the first time.

Wooyoung actually got to talk with your doctor, Dr. Lee, that day. Dr. Lee had told him that it was considered a miracle, how you lasted for a month when he thought you'd only have a week left after the both of you saw the latest condition of your heart—only seeming to get weaker as each day passed.

Now, Wooyoung wasn't one to assume things, but he would like to think that you held out for him, all because you wanted to ask what color you were to him.

"If I were a color, what color would I be, Woo?"

"That's a question I can't answer after just a day of knowing you, Y/N." He answers truthfully. "How about I'll get back to you after a month?"

And you did wait for a month. Wooyoung would like to say it was a stupid reason but, he's glad you asked him that. And he's even glad that you were able to hear his answer to your question before you closed your eyes.

Somehow, it brought him peace.

—

Entering your room, Wooyoung feels nothing but emptiness, the joyful energy you once radiated, is now nowhere to be found—but the memories he got to share with you linger on.

Earlier, he volunteered to tidy your room and your things when Nurse Aliah asked, and now as he's walking near your bedside table, he spots something peeking out of the sketchbook you always used to carry with you to the garden. The sketchbook you didn't let him take a peek even once.

Wooyoung grabs it, and he lets out a sound of surprise when something falls out of the pages, dropping onto the floor. Crouching down, he picks up the bunch of paper and sees there are two drawings and two handwritten letters.

He takes the drawing you made for him—a sketch of him while he's holding the camera to his face—and the letter addressed to him. Then, he puts the ones that are for Nurse Aliah back on the table.

Wooyoung takes his time admiring every stroke and shade you've made while sitting on your bed.

Now he understands why you wouldn't let him peek even just a tiny bit.

Wooyoung feels his heart soaring because you drew him.

And it was a pretty drawing.

Wooyoung sniffs, putting the drawing on the bed and picking up the letter you wrote for him this time.

Frankly, he isn't sure if he's ready to read it, especially since your passing is still fresh in his mind and his heart is still hurting.

But then again, when will he ever be brave enough to read it alone? Wooyoung thinks reading it inside the room you once resided in will ease him even just a little bit, although he can't promise that he won't cry again.

And so, after a deep exhale, he opens your letter.

One look at the first line and Wooyoung finds himself breaking down for the nth time.

My dearest Woo,

Hi! I'll be honest with you, I wasn't really sure how to start this letter, but then I thought, what if I told you a story first? You like stories right? I hope you do. Anyway, here it goes.

Once upon a time, there was a little fairy. Now, this fairy was unlike any other fairy—she didn't have wings. (I know what you're probably thinking; why is she a fairy if she doesn't have wings? But cut me some slack, will you? This is probably why I should stick to drawing, which I hope you saw first, by the way.) Since she didn't have wings, she couldn't fly. And because she couldn't fly, she felt like she was always left behind, always feeling like an outcast that she almost resented herself for being born. Why wasn't she like normal fairies? She always finds herself asking.

Right when she thought all hope was lost for her, she met this boy. A boy who had no wings but was still able to fly. Of course, the fairy was in awe and disbelief, and so, she asked the boy, "How are you able to fly without wings?"

The boy grins at her and says, "Wings? Who says they're the only thing that could make you fly when pixie dust exists?"

"Pixie dust? What is that?" The fairy asks, and then the boy shows him a bag filled with golden-colored dust, which he pours into her hands.

"Sprinkle it all over you and think happy thoughts, then you'll be able to fly just like me," The boy says, and without hesitation, the fairy follows his words.

And when she did, she found her tiny feet slowly lifting off the ground. "I'm flying!" She exclaimed with great joy. After that, she became friends with the boy and together they soared to greater heights. But nothing ever lasts, don't they? Soon, the boy had to leave her, but before he left, he gave her another bag of pixie dust and promised to come back looking for her as long as she continued to think happy thoughts.

However, the time came when the pixie dust ran out, and the fairy had lost her glow and was unable to think of happy thoughts. In the end, her life ended before she could even know if the boy didn't really plan on coming back, or if he simply wasn't able to find her. The end.

Whew, what a story!

I don't know if it made sense to you, Woo. But I think, what I'm trying to say is, I want to make things lighter by saying that, in that story, the fairy was me, and you were the boy who gave me hope. Although, I'd also like to believe that our ending will be slightly different from theirs. We both know that I don't have much time left, we do. And which is why, I'm hoping that before I rest, I'll still be with you long enough to let you feel how much I adore and appreciate you.

The thing is, being born with achromatopsia was already sufferable enough for my younger self. And then, imagine, my doctor comes in one day and tells me I also have problems with my heart and that my days are numbered.

Of course, I became miserable, who wouldn't? I felt like the world caved in on me. During that time, I only had Nurse Aliah and I even shut her out. I thought life was so unfair, because why did I have to go through something I didn't even wish to have while other people my age were living the life I could've lived?

But of course with Nurse Aliah not giving up on me and encouraging me to do the same, I outgrew that phase, or so I thought.

I was a work in progress when lo and behold, you jumpscared me with your camera and affinity for the word pretty. Have I told you how giddy it makes me feel and how blushy I get when you call me that? No? Well, now you know.

Wooyoung, despite all the loudness and wonderful chaos you entailed, you became my peace. Just like how the scratchy sound of the pencil's nib against my sketchbook brought me comfort, so did the sound of your camera shutter.

Did you know that right before the moment you decided to enter my life, I was deeply yearning for something brand new? Well, that yearning was fulfilled, because that something brand new, became you, Wooyoung. In case you haven't realized yet. (But of course, I know you do!)

By the time you read this, I'm probably, well, gone…but I'd like to think I'll be among the stars twinkling in the night sky, trying to get your attention by shining the brightest while you're staring out of your window. (Please, say hi back to me!)

Just like what I said, don't waste your tears again on me, okay? My dear Wooyoung, promise me you'll only smile when you think of me, please. I don't want to cause my favorite people any form of sadness or any kind of pain.

Truth is, I…I don't really wanna go. After meeting you, I suddenly wasn't sure if I was ready to leave everything, especially you, behind, just yet.

But then again, we can never always have what we want right? It's bittersweet, but that's life for you. I'm just so, so glad that this weak heart of mine was still able to beat for you.

I love you, more than you'll ever know.

Forever and always your pretty girl,

Y/N

P.S. When will you ever show me those pictures you've taken of me, huh?

— ☁️

#wooyoung x reader #cromernet #k-labels #pirateeznet #Hiraya-M #ateez x reader #wooyoung angst #wooyoung fluff #ateez angst #ateez fluff #wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung x you #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #ateez fics #ateez #jung wooyoung #dairyminkiwrites #dairyminki_atzwy

[goldenrubygirl9]

Trying to figure out the exact species of the JATGP bugs (and also cool bug facts!)

(Warning: pictures of bugs)

I’m gonna start with ya boi:

Mr. Grasshopper:

First of all, I love him and I wanna be him

Grasshoppers are the only herbivores of the 6 bugs. Uh. Yeah.

Grasshoppers have camouflage! And they can fly just a little bit, but their strong hind legs do most of the work.

Since Mr. Grasshopper is green and British I’m going to infer that he is a Omocestus viridulus, AKA the common green grasshopper

Literally the same guy.

The common green grasshopper is from Britain, and, like the name suggests, common. Very common, in fact. I think they’re like the second most common grasshopper in Britain (most common one isn’t green)

Mrs. Ladybug!

She’s so sweet msmfjrjgjggjjgfjf

FIRST OF ALL, IN BRITAIN LADYBUGS ARE CALLED “LADYBIRDS”

WHICH IS STUPID BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT FUCKING BIRDS

In related news, ladybugs are actually a type of beetle. Sorry for ruining your life.

Ladybugs eat aphids and scale insects (little tiny insects idk) and also pollen and nectar. Not peaches though.

Anyways considering the fact that she is red and has black spots, I’m gonna say she’s probably a Coccinella septempunctata AKA the Seven-Spotted Ladybug. They are just THE ladybugs of all time.

Very cool. Also easy asf. These ladybugs can play dead when threatened and also they are real pretty.

Mr. Centipede:

Silly billy he’s always been my favourite especially in the book he has a goofy little smile

Centipedes are venomous and carnivores. They eat anything they can overpower with their venom. Centipedes are nocturnal, because they dry out VERY easily in the daytime. They usually either don’t have eyes or have shit eyesight. They also have no ears. They “hear” by sensing vibrations in the ground.

This one was a little bit difficult because centipedes don’t vary all that much, but I’m thinking Lithobius forficatus, AKA the garden/brown/stone centipede.

They have many names. They are also very common, especially in North America and the UK. Garden centipedes are born with 7 pairs of legs, and grow legs throughout their life, maxing out at 15 pairs of legs (they always have an odd number of leg pairs) They live under rocks, and if someone lifts those rocks, these centipedes are in luck, because they’re also very good at running. I THINK they have eyes, but if they do, their eyes can only discern light from dark.

Stone centipedes mostly eat flies, springtails, and, uh. Earthworms. But us JATGP Musical fans knew that

Mrs. Spider:

Y’all know spiders I will not explain them. Also I’m scared of spiders so I will NOT show many pictures of them *shudder*

Mrs. Spider could be literally any spider in France. The only spider that’s black with white stripes like this is a zebra spider (Salticus scenicus) and they don’t actually look like her that much. But they’re cute as fuck❤️

I wish I could show you a picture but mobile Tumblr has a maximum of 10 photos per post, but they’re really cute and fluffy.

Anyways, I feel like she’s more likely to be a Steatoda grossa, AKA Cupboard Spider, but they look more scary so I’m not gonna show photos.

But only the males are black and white.

Fuck uhh

Okayy she’s possibly an Araneus nordmanni, AKA Nordmann’s Orbweaver. They’re really scary and I wanna cry but I’ll try to describe them. Black with brown legs, weird white pattern, giant ass. These spiders do exist in France, but they are very rare. (Not just in France, but in general.) They are VERY GOOD at climbing and tend to build webs high on trees (like in a dead peach tree. Maybe with their mate.) They eat insects like gnats, flies, and wasps. Good for them. I’m still terrified.

Also female Araneus nordmanni are apparently the dominant party in the relationship so…

…yeah she’s definitely a Nordman’s Weaver.

Mr. Earthworm:

OH THANK GOD I CAN STOP LOOKING AT SPIDERS AND LOOK AT THESE CUTIE PIE WORMS!!!!

Earthworms are boneless, muscleless, eyeless silly billies. They’re also hermaphrodites (male AND female at the same time) and they can regenerate parts of their bodies (not always so please don’t go around cutting worms in half) They eat fruit, fungi, and anything decaying.

So, I don’t remember the whole movie or the book, but in the musical, Earthworm speaks Spanish sometimes, and his song is vaguely Latin-esque (our director gave him a mariachi jacket for Plump & Juicy. It might not actually be Latin-esque that’s just what I’ve been told if it isn’t then oopsies) so I always thought he was from like Central America, maybe Mexico?

How did a worm get from Mexico to Britain? Guess what: Most earthworms in Mexico are invasive and from other places! Which means it could happen the other way around, but also it means that doesn’t narrow down what species of worm Earthworm is! Fuck!

He’s probably supposed to be a Lumbricus terrestris (The common European Earthworm.)

They are the most common worms. Everywhere. But other than species and location, nothing connects this earthworm to THE Earthworm.

So I propose a much funnier idea: That he is some species of Amynthas.

There isn’t enough info about the Amynthas for me to figure out exactly which species of Amynthas he probably is, but look it has a smooth white clitellum like Earthworm!!

So there are 3 reasons why I feel like Earthworm is an Amynthas. 1. Appearance. 2. They are part of the family Megascolecidae, which are the largest family of earthworms (They do say he is a big worm, although that’s probably because he’s literally human-sized)

And 3. These worms are also called Jumping worms. Because they. Uh.

They jump. When they are scared. It’s REALLY funny.

Most Amynthas are from Asia, but somehow a bunch ended up in Mexico. And now I guess one ended up in Britain. And then New York. Invasive species behaviour. (Actually a lot of the JATGP insects are invasive)

Take your pick of worm!

(Also Glowworm is a Lampyris noctiluca, AKA common glow-worm. If you even care. Nobody cares abt Glowworm. How dare you. And James is probably a human boy.)

And that is all thanks guys heart emoji

#james and the giant peach musical #james and the giant peach #insects #cool insects #grasshopper #ladybugs #centipedes #spiders #worms #glowworms #beetles

[loveyazy]

Hi! So I haven't read acotar (well a little bit but it didn't hook me) but I've been reading your posts about the upcoming book and I'm so curious, I don't know these characters but the second hand gossip is fun and I'm rooting for them lol when does the book come out? when will it be announced who the protagonists are?

JSHDKAKJSD I had written so much on my phone but then I closed all the apps and I lost it so hopefully I can remember most of it still.

The thing is it's OBVIOUS it's going to be Elain. She has even said in this interview x at 25:00. I don't know why people genuinely think GWYN is going to be the next book 🫠. Her purpose was to help Nesta. Outside of that, there is not much left to tell of her story. It's done. TBH, I completely forgot she even existed after I finished reading ACOSF. Like I kept seeing posts about her on my insta discover, and I was like who tf is Gwyn? 💀

Also just... ELAIN IS THE THIRD ARCHERON SISTER. How can it NOT be about her when Feyre had the first three and then Nesta had the fourth? Like it's so painfully obvious. Anyone who thinks otherwise is just delusional.

Even if it's not Elain and it happens to be Mor, it's NOT going to be Gwyn before Elain LMFAO.

But this is why I think it's going to be Elriel and not Elucien.

Firstly, Koschei the Deathless. The story follows Ivan marries his THREE SISTERS to THREE WIZARDS.

Ivan saw his three sisters wed to the first suitors who came across them—wizards in the form of birds.

Hmmm THREE SISTERS. BIRDS >>>> BATS. 👀

Eventually Ivan goes on to defeat Koschei with the help of his sisters and their husbands.

And then we have another Koschei retelling. The FOX and the FIREBIRD. Listen Sarah was not subtle with the names. Vasalisa >> Vassa. Lucien had a fox mask in ACOTAR, making him the obvious fox. You can read more on it here but I'm going to do a quick summary.

A king has a garden that produces one gold apple a day, but it was stolen every night. He promised half his kingdom to whichever son could catch the thief. He has three sons, and they all tried to catch it. The third son saw the firebird and shot at it, and hit the bird in the wing, but it escaped and left behind a golden feather. The king wants the fire bird and promises whoever brings the fire bird alive would get half the kingdom and be the heir. So they all go out to find the Fire Bird, and they all encounter a Red Fox.

The fox approaches each prince, and asks for something to eat, but the first two shoot at it. The third prince shares his food. So the Red Fox takes him to the palace where the fire bird is and tells him how to grab the fire bird by putting it in the wooden cage, not the golden. Well, the prince says how can a lovely bird be in a wooden cage and proceeds to put it back in the golden, but then basically sounds an alarm and he gets arrested. The King tells him to bring him back a golden man.

The fox says he'll help the prince, but of course the prince is a dumbass and goes I'm gonna choose the pretty one instead of the one the fox told me to choose and he gets arrested and this king says bring back Princess Goldilocks from the Golden Palace in the Black Sea.

Anyways it goes on and the third brother is betrayed by his other two, and the fox brings him back to life. In the end he gets the kingdom, the firebird, Goldilocks, etc. The fox is very instrumental in this story.

SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVEN'T READ ALL OF ACOTAR

We have hints that Lucien and Vassa are very close. They talk to each other. Plus they live together along with Jurian.

Plus if it was going to be Elucien there would be hints that Elain even had romantic feelings for him. Even a little attraction. She doesn't. She literally stares at a boiling tea kettle until he leaves because she doesn't want to spend any time with him.

She wants nothing to do with him. And yes sure she says she doesn't want a male, but remember that she is still dealing with the traumatic events of being forced into the cauldron and being changed.

This though, happens a year later with Azriel...

Imagine seeing this in the most recent book, and thinking they're like siblings. Sounds like the antis have some sort of incesty weird freaky ass sibling relationships. 😬

This also happens in the book, which I believe is during the same time? But Az's was a bonus chapter and this was available to everyone.

Elain is not herself around Lucien. I don't understand how anyone can see their relationship and think that's going to be endgame. This was the most recent book.

Even before ACOSF, Nesta and Cassian had this in the previous book that alluded to their romance.

But there is absolutely nothing to allude to any sort of Elucien romance. Elain wants NOTHING to do with Lucien. And honestly, I don't blame her. Who would? He was a part of the most traumatic thing that ever happened to her.

I'll never understand Elucien shippers. If you like Lucien, why would you ship him with someone who wants nothing to do with him? If you like Elain why would you ship her with someone she wants nothing to do with?

I'm 10000000% convinced the Elucien shippers are just Gwynriels who ship them so they can have their ship justified, but most of their evidence is just their headcanons, and them not being able to read between the lines and interpreting things very wrong.

#pro elriel #anti gwynriel #anti elucien #elriel #pro elain archeron #pro azriel #i tagged these as antis so if you come for me I'm going to ask why the fuck you're here?

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Fireleaf (Part Three)

Lucien Vanserra x Reader

Part One ⤲ Part Two

Hi! I wanted to get this out sooner but I have a stinking cold and kept falling asleep whilst writing lol. Anyway - enjoy!

@greeneyedivy has been such a massive help with this story so far. Those braincells deserve all the love 😉💋

Warnings: None for this part.

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

“Beron’s announcing the engagement tonight – at the feast.”

Willow glanced up from the belongings she’d spread out over her bed. You’d seen to it yourself that she and her husband got the suite closest to yours. If your sisters were going to be hovering around for the next two weeks, you wanted your favourite one as close to you as possible.

Willow’s blue eyes studied you, her night-black hair rippling like silk as she tilted her head. “And how do you feel about that?”

Slowly, you shook your head from where you stood at the window overlooking the garden. It had been a task, in itself, to break away from the circles of acquaintances gushing over each other, to get some time alone with your youngest sister. She’d spotted you trying to rub the panic out of your chest and had made an excuse to Dion about needing to show you something in her suite.

“I feel…” Your eyes remained pinned on the lawn, bouncing over the people who were chatting and laughing and drinking. All far too wealthy for their own good. All as shallow as one another. “I feel trapped.”

There was a rustle of clothing, and then Willow was by your side, placing a hand on your arm. “I know this cannot be easy for you, Y/N.” She studied you. “But is Dion really so bad?”

You frowned, glancing down at your clasped hands. It wasn’t about whether Dion was the nicest person in the world or as much of a brute as his father. It was about you, your choices – your life. Your freedoms.

They didn’t seem to exist anymore.

“He doesn’t seem bad.” You admitted with a small shake of your head. “From what I can tell so far, he’s…polite. Kind. But I could still be proved wrong. And I didn’t want any of this. I’m not sure I ever even intended to marry at all.”

Your sister continued her appraisal of you. What her eyes were searching for, you didn’t know. But even though she was younger than you by five years…in that moment, she seemed older than you. Wiser. As if, in your situation, she would have just accepted it without complaint.

“I’m the only one who didn’t get to choose.” You quickly said, hoping to nip her thoughts right in the bud. “All four of you did – you, Molly, Clem…even Sara, who can’t choose which foods she does and doesn’t like day-to-day. Father may have made suggestions, but…your husbands were your choices. Not his. And Dion is Mama and Papa’s choice – not mine.”

Willow’s face seemed to change at that moment. A change so quick, it took you a few seconds to discern that her bright, pretty face had been shadowed by something…bleaker. The ever-present light in her eyes winking out slightly.

“Yes. Well.” She murmured, stepping away from your side. She turned her back to you, returning to the items she’d spread atop the bed. “Choosing is not all it’s cracked up to be, I assure you.”

You stared at her – the back of her head. “What does that mean?”

No answer. You may as well have not been there as she separated her clothes from her husband’s, folding them into neat piles to store in the armoire. But her shoulders were tense – stiff.

“Willa.” You used her nickname, striding around to the other side of the bed to face her. “What do you—are you and Isaac not happy?”

“Drop it, Y/N.”

You blinked at your youngest sister; at her sharp, cold tone. The two of you…you didn’t have secrets. At least, you didn’t think you did. Her husband’s estate may have been a bit of a trek away from yours, but you and Willow made the effort to meet regularly. To catch up. And she knew everything about you. Everything.

Yet you could see – right now, she had a wall up. She was blocking you out in a way she never had, and it made your stomach twist with worry.

“Willow.” You murmured gently, perching on the bed. “You can tell me—if things aren’t alright with Isaac. It stays between us.”

Her hands seemed to falter on the shirt she was folding. You watched closely as she swallowed, her eyes tracking the items before her, and then flickering up to meet yours.

“We just…” She shook her head. “We had an argument, that’s all. A couple of weeks ago.”

“Okay, well…all couples argue–”

“He hit me.”

You looked up so quickly, your neck clicked. “Excuse me.”

“He lost his temper…and he hit me. He’s never done it before–”

You were already standing up from the bed. Already feeling a fire igniting inside of you, spreading through you. You were going to hunt Isaac down and deal with him yourself—

“Y/N, no.” Willow hurried into your path, blocking the door. “You’ll make it worse. It was one time, and he said he’s sorry, and he won’t do it again. Things are just still a little…raw. But they’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

“If he thinks he can lay a finger on you and get away with it–”

“He’s not.” Her touch on your arm was gentle. “Believe me, he’s not getting away with it. I’m not making things easy for him. He knows he did wrong, Y/N. Please, just…just keep it between us. Don’t tell him I told you. Please.”

You studied her face – didn’t know whether it was fear or desperation or both that shone in those wild, blue eyes. But whatever it was…it had you relaxing your shoulders, slinking back just enough to be rational.

It would make things worse if you stormed downstairs and confronted Isaac in front of everyone. Not just for Willow, but – but for you, too. You were sure Beron Vanserra wouldn’t appreciate such an outburst. And in front of his cohorts, no less.

“...Okay.” You relented – didn’t like it one bit, as you pressed your lips into a thin line. “ But, Willa…if he tries anything again…”

“He won’t. He won’t. But I would tell you straight away.”

You realised that was going to have to be good enough – for now. But while everyone was keeping their eyes on you throughout this gods-damn festival…you had a new person to mark. You were going to be watching Isaac like a hawk.

Scary, though – that Isaac had only dared to do such a thing once he had a wedding band firmly on your sister’s finger.

It didn’t exactly sell marriage to you any further.

⤲

It was by mid-afternoon that the more interesting celebrations had begun. The idle mingling and chatting around the estate had made way for the attractions that the High Lord had arranged — stalls of games and baked goods and the lilting caress of background music reaching out from across the green.

The atmosphere became easier with the arrival of the lesser fae, the working families. The people — farmers and land workers and pure grafters — that everyone had to thank for there even being a fruitful harvest at all. They turned up in droves, families of giggling, excitable children and their parents, aunts, uncles and older siblings who just seemed to be relieved to be doing something for fun.

You certainly noticed, however, the clear divide. That Beron Vanserra may have invited the lower dwellers of his court – the true backbone that kept it thriving – as a courtesy, a move to make himself look good and honourable – but with no real intention to acknowledge them. The cleave between your world and theirs was evident in the dull, tattered clothing that stood out amongst the gowns and tailored suits of the elite. And the way the noble members of the court watched them closely, judgingly, as though they were a smear on the landscape. As though they didn’t deserve an invite to the Harvest Festival that they had toiled to make happen.

It had you balling your fists at Dion’s side as you floated around, playing the part of the quiet, blushing female perfectly. It was a tad jarring every time he introduced you to someone as his fiancee, or placed a warm steady hand on your back. And not only did you have your family to contend with – their stares as they pretended to be uninterested in you – but Barric, also. It was clear he was acting as escort to your courtship.

He always remained a few steps behind, enthusiastically greeting people as he passed them and pretending to observe the various stalls that were set up. But he walked where you walked, looked at what you looked at — and stopped at the exact same moment that Dion pulled you to a standstill in front of a table where a High Fae female was selling homemade chocolates.

“Do you have a sweet tooth?” Dion asked you, a glint in his eye.

“I do.” You nodded, eyeing the sweets in front of you that admittedly smelled incredible. “Do you?”

“Oh, a terrible one. Chocolate, sweets, cakes — I love it all.” He turned to the vendor, his smile winning and charming as he said, “A bag of the orange chocolates for my lady here, please.”

His lady. It flowed so easy from his lips, like he’d been speaking those very words for years. You waited patiently as the expert chocolatier bagged the sweets up and accepted Dion’s coin in exchange. He fell into conversation with her, chatting and asking questions he seemed genuinely interested in the answers to. And you…you scanned the droves of people, looking for any glimpse of Willow’s husband. You may have promised not to say anything, not to act on your anger, but that didn’t mean you weren’t keeping a close eye on him, making sure he didn’t step a toe out of line—

But it wasn’t Isaac your eyes landed on. You should have been used, already, to the many flashes of red, flowing Vanserra hair around the place. The brothers were all dotted around somewhere, mingling with friends, partaking in the game stalls — but it was the youngest one your eyes found. Lucien.

It surprised you, somewhat, that he was even present. You were unable to stop yourself watching as he stopped at the small, rickety lemonade stand that a group of children were tending. Their clothes were clearly the grubby hand-me-downs that most of the lesser faeries seemed to be wearing, and it didn’t look like any noble members of the court had stopped by to humour them and buy what they were selling. Lucien Vanserra was likely the first.

He seemed to say something teasing, and all of the children broke out into a fit of laughter. And Lucien was grinning…so at odds with the contempt he’d worn when he’d looked upon you on the day of your arrival. He made a show of sniffing the pitcher of lemonade, of commenting on the aromas — and the children were loving every second of it. Hanging off every word. And you may not have been close enough to hear his words over the many voices around you, but you saw the way he ordered four cups of lemonade for himself — handed over one coin for each of the four children that were gazing up at him in pure amazement.

You were so entranced by the scene that you didn’t realise Dion was speaking to you until he was stood before you once more, a chocolate pinched between his fingers.

“Open up.” He smiled broadly. “Taste this.”

You blinked, your cheeks heating just slightly. Your eyes shot to the small gathering of your sisters and your parents, where they stood, sipping from delicate teacups and acting like they weren’t analysing your every move. A tad uncomfortable, you parted your lips and stilled as Dion pushed the small, round chocolate between them.

“Good, right?” He smirked as you took a bite. “They’re my favourite.”

They were good — there was no doubt about that, as you chewed and swallowed. The orange tangy and the chocolate creamy, it was an effort to stop your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“I’ll keep that in mind for Solstice.” You said — and almost blinked at yourself. You’d only been around him for forty-eight hours, and you were already talking about buying him Solstice gifts.

He held your gaze as he lifted his finger to his lips and sucked the remnants of chocolate off.

Clearing your throat, you turned quickly. “Those children are selling lemonade. How about we buy a cup?”

He smiled widely, offering you his arm. “Lead the way, my lady.”

⤲

You’d been primed for this.

It was while you’d been pulled this way and that, moulded into the prettiest, perfect vision for the evening feast, that Barric had joined you in your suite. He’d perched himself on the chaise across the room and detailed every aspect of what you were to expect that evening. Where you would sit, how you were expected to act, even what was appropriate for you to eat.

But most of all — most of all, you were to remember to smile, to look enthralled, while the High Lord officially announced to his court that you were to wed his second-eldest son.

You thought you might vomit before you even made it to the great hall. Because no amount of priming would be enough. You realised that when you approached Dion at the bottom of the grand staircase, your long skirts – and Barric – trailing behind you.

Dion’s eyes flicked over you, alighting with…something…as he took in the dark green gown. He swallowed, adjusting his collar. “...Wow…”

You stepped down from the last stair, your cheeks heating self-consciously. “Does it look ridiculous?”

Your fiance shook his head. “Quite the opposite. You…are a vision.”

From behind you, still hovering on the stairs, Barric cleared his throat. “Shall we go in?”

Taking Dion’s arm, the three of you did just that. Your heart thudded violently in your chest as you took in the sight of the room, your eyes searching for where your family were sitting; just beside the top table, where the High Lord and his family lounged.

“You’ll be sitting beside me.” Dion said into your ear. Barric had already informed you of the arrangement earlier, but you felt a second sting of disappointment at not spending the feast beside Willow.

The giant room was full with chatter and the aromas of so many different foods, it was overwhelming. But as you walked past tables, smiling politely at the people Dion greeted, sparing a wave for your own family, two things struck you.

That the spread of food was…exorbitant. A feast, indeed, but so incredibly over-the-top, the thought of its cost made you cringe; it seemed especially tonedeaf with the amount of people who’d been wandering the estate earlier in clothes and shoes that were more or less falling apart. And that was the second thing you noticed – all the Lesser Faeries that had joined in the fun that afternoon…the children enjoying themselves and the grafters letting their hair down after a summer of hard work…not a single one of them was present.

Your eyes bounced over every single table. Every person sat at those tables. Every last one was of a noble or aristocratic background. Every one of them wore garments and accessories that could have paid the rent on the lesser faeries’ land for an entire year.

“Where are they?” You turned to Dion, frowning. “The families that were here earlier.” You didn’t want to use the words Lesser Fae out loud; something about it left a sour taste in your mouth.

Dion seemed totally oblivious to your shock as he replied. “The common folk? They’re not invited to the feasts or dances – just the daytime events.”

You gawked at him, a slither of cold outrage snaking through you that he didn’t seem to notice. You were just about to point out that the very food everyone in that room would be eating was there because of the harvesters, the workers who broke their backs and put their sweat and blood into the community – but a hand landed on your arm, and you looked up to see Barric shoot you a warning glance.

“Come,” He said. “You two must be seated before the announcement.”

Fuck the announcement, was what you wanted to reply. How were you supposed to sit and watch these people bask arrogantly in their wealth when the people toiling over their lands were probably wolfing down a dinner of stale bread and cheese? There was plenty of room in here for more tables, plenty of spaces in which those people could sit.

You had to ball your fists, to bite your tongue – you looked over to your family, found your parents staring expectantly at you. And it was only imagining them in tattered clothing, eating gone-off food, that gave you the will to tamp down on your anger. For now.

You were led to the top table and seated in a high-backed chair between Dion and Jareth. Jareth sent you a wolfish grin, taking a long sip from his wine chalice.

“Evening, future sister-in-law.” He murmured, his eyes wandering over your body. “Don’t you make the pretty plaything?”

You scowled at him, facing forward. Jareth seemed to have an entire bank of leering, inappropriate comments for any female in the general vicinity. Only earlier that day, he’d stood and shamelessly flirted with you and all of your sisters – in front of their husbands, too

You were saved from having to make a remark by Beron standing from his throne at the centre of the table. He looked over the great hall, and then squared his shoulders. Tapped a fork against his glass loud enough that the cacophony of voices died out in seconds.

“Good evening to you all.” His voice was clear– confident – as he stared forward and made direct eye contact with people. “Welcome to our first feast of this year’s harvest. An old tradition of our people that I hope we can start anew. And what a bounty of good food we have before us.”

Murmurs of agreement broke through the room. You clenched your hands beneath the table.

“Before we indulge ourselves,” Beron said. “I have a wonderful announcement I’d like to share with you – my court. My people.”

That said it all – that he didn’t consider the landworkers of his court, their families, to be his people.

“I’m delighted to share with you the joining of two families.” He continued. “You all know my second-eldest son, Dion.” A glance at Dion, a flash of expectancy in his eyes. “Dion is engaged to be wed — to the fine lady at his side. Y/N, we look forward to welcoming you into our family.”

All eyes were on you, now. You felt your cheeks redden, your skin growing tight and hot under the intense scrutiny. You couldn’t help wondering what those many people might be thinking – whether there were jealous females thinking they would have been better suited for the role. Irritated fathers who were pissed that you’d wormed your way in with the Vanserras before their child could. Stuck-up mothers who didn’t deem you anywhere near good enough.

But you smiled – like you’d been told to. Inclined your head at Beron – like you’d been told to. Allowed Dion to grab your hand and place a kiss on your cheek – like you’d been told to.

And the crowds of people cheered, just like they were expected to.

“We hope you’ll join us in celebrating the happy news.” Beron raised his glass, and everyone in the room followed. “To Dion and Lady Y/N. Let the feast begin.”

⤲

It felt wrong – to eat the food. Every bite was like ash in your mouth. The only relief was the spiced wine you washed it all down with.

After an hour or so of feasting, the rigid formality seemed to dissipate somewhat. People rose from their seats, venturing to other tables to speak to friends, or even to approach the top table and engage the High Lord in conversation — conversations that had you clenching your fists harder and harder beneath the table, as you listened to Beron’s subjects gush about how generous he had been to invite the common folk to the daytime celebrations. Some even complained that said folk should have made a better effort with their clothing.

It was that comment which had you hitting your limit. You pushed your chair back, muttering an excuse about going to the bathroom, and breezed away without a glance back. Luckily, Dion — and all the other Vanserras — were far too taken by conversation to notice.

You didn’t think you could get away with leaving the room itself — not with Barric always keeping a watchful eye on you. But you floated around its edges, the cold, draughty parts where Autumn Court banners were hung and discreet alcoves dipped off into other parts of the manor.

It was in one of those alcoves that you spotted him — Lucien.

He leaned against a wall, wine glass in hand, his eyes dancing over the tables and his feet making no move to go any closer. You hadn’t even checked to see if he’d been at the top table with the rest of his family.

But something told you they wouldn’t have noticed — or cared — if he wasn’t.

Dressed in a tailored outfit a similar shade to his russet eyes, his long hair unbound, he looked like a painting in that alcove. The kinds your mother had hung up all around your family’s estate. He cut a solitary figure like he always seemed to, but appeared to be otherwise relaxed. Appeared to be fine with just standing and…spectating. Just himself and his thoughts.

As though he could sense your intense stare, his eyes flicked to yours. Those dark red eyebrows rose when he found you, indeed, staring.

You couldn’t explain it — the way your feet began to move towards him. He’d been nothing but unpleasant to you in the short conversation you’d had with him. But something about his solitary nature spoke to you. Something that made you want to speak back.

You stopped at a drinks table, grabbing yourself another glass of wine, before subtly sidling over to where Lucien stood. You tried to relax your stance, to mimic his casualness, his ease, as you pressed your back against the wall, a few steps away from him. He watched the entire thing.

You met his eyes once more, taking a sip of your wine and nodding in polite greeting.

“Is there a reason you’ve been walking around with a face like a smacked ass?” He said.

That was his greeting.

You blinked at him, your body somehow coiling tighter than it already was.

So — that rude conversation on your first night here hadn’t merely been the product of Lucien in a bad mood, then.

His head fell into a tilt as he studied you. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile once since the feast started. Is our food not to your liking?”

It would have been so easy to scowl and stalk away — to not get into this with him. And would have been wise to, also. He may have had a terse relationship with his family at best, but you didn’t doubt he’d run straight to his father with any complaints of yours — if only out of spite, fanned by this bizarre dislike he seemed to have for you.

But clearly you weren’t feeling very wise. Not as your mouth began speaking before you could tell it not to.

“It just leaves a bit of a sour taste in my mouth.” You said through gritted teeth. “That we’re all here stuffing our faces, over-indulging, and yet nobody actually responsible for the harvest has been invited.”

Lucien cocked a single eyebrow. He angled his body towards you. “This sounds interesting. Please, do impart your musings upon me, Lady. I’m fascinated to know what goes on behind the pretty face.”

Pure, pure sarcasm. He was mocking you, being rude again — and you knew that. And never had you let anyone speak to you in such a way before; never had you stood for someone so freely ridiculing you.

But did you walk away, decide not to humour him?

No. You didn’t.

“Look around the room.” You simply said, holding his gaze. Your clenched jaw was the only symbol of ire you threw at him. “Look at every damn table. Every single person here is a noble, an aristocrat. High Fae. And yet the High Lord didn’t deign to invite the hard workers who slaved over the land all year so that he could even host this feast. None of the hard-working families that everyone should be celebrating and thanking. No, they’ll be stuck at home eating stale bread and cheese and receiving no appreciation for the back-breaking graft they put in.”

The words had just…tumbled from your mouth. Pent-up from an hour of watching people gush over the High Lord. You knew you should have stopped yourself, knew you should have kept your mouth shut and later ranted to Willow, or even your damn reflection in the mirror.

Not to the youngest Autumn Court son who had an inexplicable problem with you. Who was probably delighting in the fact that you had just slipped up.

He stared at you, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed together, his eyes narrowing. His head fell into a tilt.

“Interesting.” He said, his tone quiet. Cutting. “But have you completely forgotten your own privilege, Lady?”

You balked at him. Hadn’t expected that response. “What?”

“You are a noble. You are High Fae.” His eyes travelled over you, disgust curling his lip. “And you are here, looking just as prim and proper and stuck-up as the rest of them. When was the last time you did a hard day’s work in your life? It seems to me like the pot is calling the kettle black.”

Before you could even begin to formulate a response, he was pushing off the wall. Draining his glass and striding away without so much as a glance back at you.

All you could do was stand and gawk in his wake — stunned and stung by his words. You wanted to run after him, to chew him out and tell him how wrong he was. How much hard work you had put in over the years. That he’d got you completely and utterly wrong.

But as you drained your own glass and turned in the direction he disappeared in, not even a flash of red hair remained.

⤲

You should have left it alone.

Lucien Vanserra had made his thoughts of you abundantly clear — his dislike for you. And with his mind clearly made up, there was probably no use beating a dead horse and trying to defend yourself.

But the anger that had already been there, inside you, had snowballed. You remained at the edges of the room, helping yourself to the wine and not bothering to pretend you were happy to be there. Fortunately, nobody seemed to take much notice of you, either.

You stared with narrowed eyes across the room, watching Dion, who was now engaging in enthusiastic conversation with Willow. They seemed to be getting along perfectly — you’d suspected they would — and you were thankful that she was distracting him enough, making him laugh hard enough, that he didn’t seem to be aware of your absence.

Lucien had no right to talk to you like that. He didn’t know you, had no knowledge of the kind of work you had done. He’d formed an unfair opinion of you and run with it, and in a situation that was already lonely as it was, you didn’t need the added hostility. Did it mean you were weak, to be barely three days in and hitting your breaking point? Maybe. You didn’t care. You needed someone to sound off to, to give a piece of your mind.

That was how you found yourself slipping out of the great hall before anyone could stop you. You were going to hunt Lucien down, to confront him and demand to know what his damn problem was.

Your thoughts were a tad fogged by the wine you’d consumed. There was no real method or direction to the route you travelled, probably going round in circles. You strode through the long, winding halls with purpose, passing servants who took one look at your thunderous expression and averted their gazes.

Outside. Lucien Vanserra always seemed to be outside, somewhere, loitering around trees and in the shadows. You pushed through the huge glass doors that opened out onto the veranda — the same one you’d dined on only that morning.

You’d made it only halfway across the dewy grass before you heard him — heard them. There was a trilling, feminine laugh that echoed through the night, stark and loud in your ears. Movement in your periphery. You turned in its direction.

Just in time to see Lucien press a pretty blonde against a tree. To see his hands roaming her body as he kissed her feverishly, and they laughed sensuously into each other’s mouths.

You went still. Just…just stared for a moment. Stared at the scene before you and tried to understand the bile that rose in the back of your throat. The twisting in your gut.

Only when Lucien and his lover disappeared out of sight did it strike you — the hollowness you felt. The jealousy. Nothing…nothing to do with who it was, but…the intimacy. The freedom of that intimacy.

Because it hit you like a ton of bricks that Lucien Vanserra may have been a solitary male who liked to skulk off and brood alone…he may have been the black sheep of his family…but he clearly still had freedoms that you lacked. Such a fact stung like a slap.

You couldn’t just sneak off for a clandestine fumble in the woods with a casual fling. Couldn’t engage in a spell of brief, meaningless passion, just for the hell of it. Not anymore.

It left you feeling so, so terribly lonely. You didn’t really know why.

But that fire of anger inside you winked out. Left you empty. You didn’t feel like confronting Lucien Vanserra anymore, didn’t feel like chewing him out.

You just wanted to be alone.

⤲

“I like him. Dion, I mean.”

It was nearing the end of the first week of the festival when Willow slipped her arm through yours. The moon was beating down on the Vanserra Estate, and a sizable group of people had come along to The Offering – an Autumn Court tradition that had been built from superstition centuries ago. It was said that at moonrise, anyone who left offerings for the wild creatures of the Autumn Court were promised safety and good harvest the following year. Groups of courtiers wandered through the woods, carrying armfuls of jam jars and fruit baskets and crisp loaves of bread, all to be left for creatures that may not even exist.

“Dion’s nice.” You acknowledge with a small nod. You were careful not to speak too openly with your sisters lingering close behind. And the Vanserra brothers striding ahead.

It was true – as the week had progressed, you’d found yourself enjoying Dion’s company. He was easy to talk to, a male of flowing conversation and good humour. You’d taken to sharing nightly walks around the gardens, and you were perfectly happy to listen while he regaled you with stories and shared knowledge of subjects you knew nothing about. And additionally, he seemed to have truly taken to your youngest – favourite – sister. He and Willow already had a budding relationship built on teasing each other, on affectionate bickering. It wasn’t unusual to walk into a room and find the pair of them laughing – a fact that angered Isaac, no doubt. You’d been keeping a close eye on him all week.

And you’d thankfully not run into Lucien Vanserra’s path. Which was good. Which was fine. You weren’t going to bother with pleasantries when he clearly had no intentions of doing so.

“Do you have any idea of when the wedding might be?” Willow asked you, gently nudging you with her elbow. Her offering of a huge jar of honey was tucked under her other arm.

“No,” You shook your head. “It’s to be discussed after the festival. That’s when the preparations will begin.”

Her gaze flicked to you. “And are you…you know…attracted to him?”

“He’s a handsome male.”

“You know what I’m asking, Y/N. Do you feel…alright…where the wedding night itself is concerned?”

You spared her the slightest glance in your periphery. She was bound to have brought this up at some point…this subject that was a giant elephant in the room. Sitting on a secret that you had no clue what you were going to do about. Try as you might to bury it, it always lingered at the back of your mind – waiting to come alive and smack you in the face.

But you squared your shoulders. Played the fool, as you said, “I feel fine about it.”

Before you could think of a subject change, Willow was suddenly veering you both to the left, tugging you around a giant tree. She checked that you were truly out of sight before she turned back to you, her face pinched. There was something…comical, in the way she tried to look serious while holding a giant jar of honey.

“Have you even thought about the situation at all?” She hissed. “Things may be sweet and innocent right now, but come your wedding night, Dion is going to know. He’s going to figure out the state of your virginity – or lack thereof – and he might not like it. I hear the Vanserras have a thing about taking pure brides.”

You swallowed, your stomach bottoming out. It was far easier to ignore when it wasn’t being pointed out to you. And you didn’t know what you were going to do about that – whether you planned to tell Dion or not.

You couldn’t bring yourself to regret that one choice you’d made for yourself all those years ago – to have Linden, one of the few people you trusted more than anything – to be the first person you had sex with. He had been kind and careful, and you’d felt good afterwards – glad you’d chosen the person yourself, and never thinking it would be a decision that would come back to bite you on the ass.

And yet here you were. Engaged to a male who likely expected you to be…intact, as you’d heard other males say, on your wedding night. A male who expected to be your first and only lover.

“I highly doubt Dion is a virgin,” You shrugged defensively. “Why should I have to defend my choice to sleep with Linden? I wanted–”

“Holy Gods.”

The words, choked with incredulity and a lick of laughter, had not come from Willow.

You looked up, your entire body – entire existence – going cold as you observed Molly gaping at you from a few strides away, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised, her back ramrod straight.

“Damn it.” Willow mumbled under her breath. “Molly–”

“You actually gave yourself to that brute?” Molly folded her arms, her eyes studying you. “Do you have no respect for yourself at all?”

Your jaw clenched. “It’s none of your business. You shouldn’t be listening in on conversations.”

Your eldest sister placed a mocking hand over her chest. “I was concerned about my sisters wandering off into the woods alone.”

You took a single step towards her, to say, to do…what, you didn’t know. But Willow was grabbing hold of your arm. Glaring at Molly with an intensity that would have even the most hard-faced people backing down.

“You better keep your gods-damn mouth shut about this, Molly.” She said through gritted teeth. “I mean it – not a word.”

Molly smirked. Oh, she was enjoying this. To have leverage against someone was like having the Winter Solstice come early. Her eyes glistened with challenge.

“Keeping my mouth shut won’t change the fact that Y/N allowed herself to be defiled by that scum with a sword.” She sniped. “How, exactly, do you plan to explain yourself to your betrothed?”

“None of your fucking business.” You snapped.

“Tetchy,” That wolfish smirk widened. “You have no plan at all, do you?”

“I–”

“Swear you won’t say anything.” Willow cut in, folding her arms.

“Are you above begging?”

“Swear,” Your youngest sister repeated, her jaw ticking as she stepped forward, “you won’t say anything.”

“Mother Above, the two of you are so dramatic.” Molly made a show of glancing at her nails. Of sighing deeply. Of placing a hand on the swell of her belly. And then she smirked again. “I swear I won’t tell anyone – if only because I can’t wait to see how this pans out.”

She offered no chance for you to respond before she was turning and flouncing away, a trill of satisfied laughter in her wake. Your shoulders slumped, but you felt no relief – you didn’t trust Molly or her word for one second.

“Bitch.” Willow murmured beside you, scooping up the jar of honey. “Don’t worry about her. She’s all talk. Let’s make these offerings before the Autumn Court creatures materialise and decide to eat us instead.”

You forced a smile. Allowed yourself to be tugged back through the trees, onto the path that groups were still ambling along, only spaced-out faelights and moonlight illuminating the way.

Ahead of you, Molly had returned to strolling at her husband’s side.

She glanced back once. And grinned.

⤲

The end of that first week was a relief. Albeit a short-lived one.

You wanted to wind the week up by doing nothing. By holing yourself up in your room and reading, or sleeping, or—anything. Anything that didn’t involve plastering a smile on your face and talking to people.

And yet here you were, on a dragging Sunday night, trying to work out how you were going to survive the last week of festivities — all while the High Lord’s personal bard played to a tittering audience, and your sisters and Dion’s brothers chatted around the table you all occupied.

You almost felt bad for the bard. Nobody appeared to be listening. Every song he had played had been drowned out by the numerous conversations happening at once.

You felt…uneasy, with Molly sitting opposite you. She may not have spoken a word of your secret thus far, but the glances she kept shooting you were in no way subtle. The exhausting week had begun to weigh on you, and you bristled every time your sister opened her mouth. Beside you, Dion seemed to notice your resigned demeanour.

His hand landed on your leg, and he leaned down to your ear. “Are you alright?”

Glancing up at him, you nodded. “I’m fine – just tired.”

“We don’t have to stay for this — I can take you back to your suite.”

Across the table, a resounding tsk came from your eldest sister. Everyone looked to her in question, but her gaze was firmly on you. On Dion, and the clear direction his hand was leaning in beneath the table.

“Now, now, enough of that.” Molly said, a smirk playing on her lips. “I’m sure the two of you would prefer to keep things clean and pure until the wedding night.”

Your jaw ticked as Dion shifted beside you. “That isn’t what I meant.” He said.

“No need to sweat.” Molly smiled at him — and then glanced at you. Directly at you, her eyes burning into yours. “We all feel temptation beckoning us sometimes, right?”

“Molly.” Willow’s voice was low, warning, from the chair at your other side. “You’re being inappropriate.”

The tension around the table could be cut with a knife. But Molly seemed to be enjoying it, as she sat back in her chair and continued to simply smirk at you. So many retorts teased the tip of your tongue, begging you to rip into her, to give in and make that scene she was so clearly angling for—

But you were saved right at the last minute by one song ending, and another beginning. The bard’s swift musical transition seemed to sweep away the tautness that stretched around your table, and as if the last couple of minutes hadn’t occurred, conversation started anew — instigated by Eris, who was happy to sit and bend everyone’s ears with heroic stories about himself.

You were just thankful that the heat was taken off of you.

Even more so that only Willow and Dion seemed to be aware when you pushed out from the table, rising to your feet. Everyone else was too entranced by Eris waxing poetic about a hunting trip he’d been on.

“Can I escort you somewhere?” Dion peered up at you. There was a strange lick of apology in his eyes, his tone, as if he blamed himself for the turn the conversation had taken moments ago.

“No,” You answered quickly — too quickly — and cleared your throat. “No, thank you. I’m ready to turn in.”

He nodded in what seemed to be understanding — and perhaps a flash of disappointment. He reached for your hand, pressing a chaste kiss to your fingers. “Goodnight, then.”

The tinge of guilt you felt was almost enough to make you sit back down and tolerate Molly for the rest of the evening, just to appease Dion. Because all week, he’d been nothing but kind to you. Nothing but polite and accommodating and understanding that this situation you both found yourselves in was a bizarre one, a tricky one, and you were trying to puzzle it out yourselves with the watchful gazes of others constantly on you.

But if you stayed a second longer, you thought you might scream. You’d barely had a moment to yourself all week, and if you didn’t take that time now, you weren’t sure what you might do. What you might say.

You kissed Willow on the cheek and bade everyone goodnight, trying to ignore Molly’s eyes on you as you hastily left the room.

But you didn’t go straight to bed, like you were no doubt expected to. The one bit of solace you’d found in this place, in this situation, was the beautiful sprawl of land around you, as far as the eye could see. You wanted to feel the chilled autumn air on your skin, to breathe in its crisp scent whilst you walked the gardens — alone — and allowed your thoughts to roam freely.

You waited, just long enough to make sure nobody followed, and then made your way outside. You weren’t dressed at all appropriately for the bite in the air, but there was something pleasant about the cold temperature washing over you. Like you were breaking the surface of water and taking great, greedy gulps of air.

You allowed your feet to carry you aimlessly, putting distance between you and the manor, the sounds of music and chatter floating out from inside. The further you strayed from the huge house, the more you relied on the accompanying full moonlight to illuminate your path and guide you onwards. Shafts of its silvery light broke through the leaves as you began to wend through the trees, the smell of damp earth and bark somewhat of a soothing tonic to you.

You didn’t realise just how far you’d wandered until you could no longer make out the lights from the manor — or the sounds. The silence of the forest at this time was deafening, the only sounds made by your shoes kicking through leaves and stepping on twigs.

That was — until you heard it.

You couldn’t immediately make out what it was — what you were hearing. A sound akin to heavy breathing, but not that of a person; almost like a creature’s snout sniffing the air.

You stopped dead on the path you were wandering, frozen on the spot. Only around twenty feet away from you, you could just discern the outline of objects sitting at the bases of the towering trees. Small jars, bigger ones, cloaks and trinkets—

The Offerings everybody had left for the elusive Autumn Court creatures. You had wandered way, way too far.

You didn’t know what to do as the strange sound picked up, grew closer. You didn’t fancy your chances at running over the uneven forest floor in your gown — and certainly not if it would just invite whatever animal was lurking to follow you.

You stood ramrod straight, waiting for it to emerge. Perhaps a wolf, or a wildcat, or—

The…creature…that inched out from around a tree was a thing of pure, undiluted nightmare.

Its head was certainly that of an animal’s — a fox — with glowing yellow eyes and a maw that pulled back into somewhat of a sneer. But its body…slender and tall…it had to be towering at eight feet at least, and walking on two legs—

You were going to vomit. Never had you had such a strong, visceral reaction to a sight before you. The way you shook had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

You couldn’t move — not as you watched the giant beast stalk towards the offerings, its nose still loudly sniffing the air, sniffing for—

Something snaked around your face — a warm hand that covered your mouth, your nose. You had no time to react as you were yanked back against a firm, solid body, and slowly, slowly dragged backwards.

“Don’t,” A voice, lethally quiet, whispered into your ear. Lucien. “Make a sound.”

You obeyed. As much as you wanted to scream your head off in pure terror. Lucien’s other hand was around your waist, and you gripped onto his arm, allowing yourself to slowly, slowly, be dragged backwards, your eyes never once leaving the creature.

You thought he must know these woods like the back of his hand, with how expertly he stepped around trees and over dips, acting like you weighed nothing more than air as he pulled you along with him.

Only when you were far enough away that the creature was just a moving blot of darkness did Lucien stop. He pressed his back against the tree. And continued to hold onto you.

His hand splayed flat against your stomach as he gradually pulled the other from your face. “Don’t scream.” He told you, his voice little more than a sigh. “And don’t move.”

You couldn’t move, aside of the uncontrollable tremors wracking through your body. You were icy cold all over, and you pressed back against Lucien, savouring his warmth, his firm presence. His chest heaved heavy breaths as he held you still.

“…What…” You dared to whisper, “What was that?”

Because the creature…you’d never seen anything like it before. These things that you’d left offerings for…they were all supposed to be mere superstition. A nightmare entity that parents used to make their children behave.

But you’d seen it before you, in the flesh. A towering, fox-like creature that walked on its hind legs.

Lucien’s fingers pressed against your stomach. “It doesn’t have a name,” He murmured. “It just is. They’re rare, but…history says they would appear for the offerings left at the trees. And they track a person’s movement. Once they’ve spotted you, you’re done for. We called them Nutcrackers, as children. Because it allegedly cracks your skull between its jaws, like a nut, before you have a chance to react.”

The shiver that wracked through you was palpable. It felt like ages that the two of you stood there like that, your bodies pressed together, waiting for some indication that it was safe to promptly get the fuck out of there. After what felt like an eternity, the dark outline of the horrifying creature seemed to slip deep into the brush, its long, slender arms clutching a whole bounty of offerings.

You knew the coast must have been clear when Lucien exhaled — and pushed you away from him.

“What the fuck,” he stormed round to face you, “were you doing all the way out here?”

You rubbed your arms, too shaken to be put out by his tone. You shrugged half-heartedly. “I came for a walk. Didn’t realise how far I’d wandered.”

Your nonchalance seemed to anger him. He was a flare of red hair and golden skin — accented by silver moonlight — as he shook his head at you, his strong jaw flexing.

“You really are as daft as you seem.” He sniped. “Count yourself fucking lucky that I was here to get your ass out of that.”

You folded your arms. “Do you want me to thank you?”

“I don’t care what you do—”

“Or perhaps I should apologise,” You cut him off, “What were you doing out here so late? I don’t suppose I was interrupting another quick fuck against a tree?”

Lucien stilled — stared at you. And you wished — wished so damn hard — that you could snatch those words right out of thin air and cram them back into your mouth, down your throat. You didn’t know why you’d even said it.

It had achieved nothing — other than making it clear to him that you’d seen him sneaking off with a female on the night of the feast.

He stepped closer to you — so close that his hair tickled your face as he leaned down. So close that his scent pushed its way up your nose, invading you, smothering you—

“Do me a favour,” He hissed, “and stay far away from the woods. Stay far away from any potential danger so that I don’t have to stick my neck out getting you out of it.” Cruel, russet eyes flicked over you. “In fact? Stay far away from me. That’s what I want you to do, Lady.”

He turned without another word. Or another glance at you, as he stormed away, leaves and twigs crunching beneath his boots.

All you could do was watch his retreating figure, trembles still wracking your body.

You should have been thinking: Lucien Vanserra is a prick.

Should have been thinking that you wanted to smack his sneer from his gods-damn face.

But you watched and watched as he disappeared out of sight. You weren’t even worried about the fucking fox-nutcracker-hind-legged-creature anymore. Not as it was just you and the trees, and the sting of Lucien’s harsh words still hanging in the air.

All you were thinking was that Lucien Vanserra smelled like a heady mix of apples, of woodsmoke, of the forest after a downpour, the earthy tones of cedar and balsam fir. The most delicious concoction that your imagination couldn’t possibly make up. It lingered in your nose, rapidly fading with each passing second.

All you were thinking was that you’d never smelled anything — anyone — like it.

That you wanted to inhale that scent greedily.

Again and again and again.

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

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[stargazingfordreams]

The Star that missed The Sun

Nyx x Reader

Warning- arrange marriage, cute stuff.

A/N- Soo you guys are fantastic I really didn't expect anyone to like part one so much; I really just thought that maybe it was going to be a one-shot but you guys seemed to have loved it, so here is a part two

Word Count- 2.1K

Part One

My eyes fluttered open at the sound of birds chirping outside of my room. The morning sun crept in, shining on my face. I sighed deeply and lifted myself off my bed, blinking a few times while waiting for my eyes to adjust. I threw myself back down on my bed, hoping to resume my sleep. Until I heard a slight knock at my door

"My lady? I came in to give you a wake-up call," a handmaiden came in. I recognized her as one of the ones who helped me get ready for my wedding. It was hard to forget how she looked with her short blonde hair, tan skin, and blue eyes. She looked like she would have loved being back home.

"Yes, thank you."

She smiled and entered and began to run a bath for me and unload my luggage to find a dress for the day. I went into the bathroom and sunk into the tub, adding some floral scents to the water. I allowed the warm water to ease my mussels.

After a while, I left the tub and re-entered my room, where the handmaiden stood waiting and helped me get ready.

"How do I get to the garden?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, my lady, but Lord Nyx had an emergency this morning and cannot join you for breakfast. He extends his apologies." I felt disappointed, snuggling its way into my body. But should I have gotten my hopes up? My father did his best to be present, and he was, but that doesn't mean that he was always there, and I shouldn't expect that of my husband either.

"Oh, I see. Well, I suppose I can explore Velaris," I told her. She bowed

"I'll go and grab your cloak, my lady."

"I didn't catch your name?" I called out to her

"It's Althaia."

"It's good to meet you" I smiled as she handed me my white cloak, and I went out the door. The street is bright and filled with bustling shops. Everything was so different. In Day court, the road was paved with white gold brick that matched the building, and the sun always hung high on the most beautiful days, but here everything was different. The buildings were lined in all different colors, with the streets black and brown cobblestone. Until I walked to a bridge, shops looked like they were setting up for lunch. Then, I looked at one shop that caught my eye, Eleftheria Saoirse, in bold letters. I was greeted by a woman who looked a few years older than me.

"My name is Abrial. Thank you for coming in." I smiled at her enthusiasm when I entered. I introduce myself.

"Oh yes, your lord Nyx's new bride!" she exclaimed

"Your shop is lovely" I gazed over the dresses and fabric.

"Oh, thank you, dear. Do you sew?" she asked.

"Me? Oh no, my mother did, but she never taught me" she looked at me, a little sad.

"What a shame, well what can I do for you?" it dawned on me at this moment that I didn't have any money.

"Oh, thank you, but I wouldn't be able-"

"Don't worry, truly I don't mind," she interrupted. She must have seen that I was going to protest again, so she continued before I could.

"At least let me give you a cloak; it will help you blend in better" I looked down at my attire.

"Nothing is wrong with it, but it makes it obvious that you are not from here. Anyway, Lord Nyx has a credit line that you can use" I didn't like the idea of me just using Nyx's credit line. I'll pay him back when he gets home.

"Okay, a cloak then." She lit up and went to get a plain night court blue cloak. I reached out to take it, but she moved to her sewing machine.

"I have this wonderful idea for a design; it would be lovely."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to, plus I've been doing this forever, so it won't take me long! I made a dress that would look great with the design I was thinking about. So maybe you can try it on, and don't worry, it's just a try on" she gave me a wink and pushed me into a dressing room with the dress in my hand.

I slipped the dress on, and she was right. The fabric was night court blue and had golden swirls embroidered at the bottom that rose to my knee, and in between the wheels were little gold stars and suns; I looked at myself in the mirror though I frowned a little. I studied my arms. I wasn't happy with it. I know I shouldn't think about these things, but sometimes I couldn't help. I began to pick apart everything that was wrong with me.

You look Beautiful

The thought crept into my head.

"Abrial? Did you say something" I ask

"No, dear, I didn't. Did you try the dress? I must see how it looks" I looked once again at myself for some reason feeling just a little more confident. I stepped out of the dressing room and gave her a twirl.

"Just as I thought, it's a great fit." She walked up with the cloak and placed it on me. The cloak matches perfectly with the gold thread that made a design on the back.

Half a sun and half a moon meet together to create one. The symbol of both courts.

"It's perfect." I breathed out in disbelief at how beautiful they looked together. She packed up my old clothes and put them in a bag. I gave her a look.

"The dress was made for you consider it a wedding gift."

"I don't know how to thank you."

"I wouldn't mind the company every once and a while. Maybe I can even teach you to sew." She handed me the shopping bag.

"I can definitely do that, thank you. "I gave her a respectful bow before heading towards the door. I opened it and had one foot out when I stopped.

"How did you know that I was from day court?" I asked her.

"What?"

"The sun and the moon is the design that you did, but I didn't tell you I was from day court"

"You clothes, dear, I have been sewing for a long time, and I recognized the clothes and cloak from day court," she said, giving me a wave and cleaning up her station.

"Right, of course, you did say I looked like an outsider" I chuckled at her, simply nodding. I must be losing it. I first heard voices and now questioning people who had been kind to me.

"Have a good evening, My lady."

"You too, Abrial. See you soon!" I walked out of the shop and continued walking around Velaris, visiting many shops just to look. It wasn't until I was tired and starving that I realized I had no idea how to return to the townhouse. Oh no, this is great, just great.

I walked around trying to stop people, but everyone was either going home in a rush or getting restaurants ready for dinner and had no time to stop what they were doing. I sighed in defeat. I looked up at the sky and saw the sun setting. It will be dark soon. I almost gave up when I ran into Lord Cassian and Lady Nesta. But, no actually ran into them. Lord Cassian had to steady me to stop me from falling over.

"Whoa, there little spell-cleaver are you okay" once I was upright, he let go.

"I'm sorry, Lord Cassian, I'm a little turned around, actually lost." Cassian laughed at me. My cheeks heated. Did I say something wrong? Nesta lightly hit his stomach.

"It's hard to believe that you are Helion's daughter. You're far too polite to be related, little fawn," he said in between fits of laughter.

"Calling us Nesta and Cassian is just fine, love; we can help you get back home" Nesta shook her head at Cassian but gave me a smirk. He threw his arm around us, tucking me in between him and Nesta.

"Cassian, you're scaring the poor girl, and she's not a little doll, you know," she said, seeing amusement on his face.

"I can't be excited for our new niece Nes" his smile beamed at me.

"Ignore him; he lacks manners. I've tried to teach him, but I've been failing since we've been mated." Her face was serious, but I couldn't help but giggle. I looked down and noticed the book she had tucked under her arm.

"If you like that series, try the one her brother wrote. It gives a unique look at a romance book from a male's perspective."

"Do you like romance books?" Nesta asked, her face lighting up since the first time I met her at my wedding

"Yes, of course, you should have seen our library back home; my father gave me my section when he learned I liked to read books for fun," I told her.

"Oh no, not you too! You enjoy those smutty books that Nes can't seem to put down." she rolled her eyes at him but still held such a strong sense of love behind them.

"Please come by the house of wind. My friends and I like to meet up occasionally to discuss what we are reading, and we have a library underground that I wouldn't mind showing you." I don't know how long we were walking back, but before I knew it, here we were.

"I'll take you up on that, Nesta, and thank you for helping me find my way back," I said my goodbyes and went to the townhouse. I took off my cloak and set down my bag before the aroma of food flooded my senses. I followed it to the back of the house and into the garden. There I found a table for two with mountains of food and lights that hung in the sky. Nyx was fixing the table. When I came in, he turned to me.

"You have perfect timing," he said proudly, looking at his work.

"What is this?" I said in complete shock at the masterpiece before me

"Well, I really wanted to have breakfast with you this morning, but something came up that I couldn't ignore, but I made a promise to you, and well, I'm sorry that I couldn't keep it." he held out his hand seating me in the chair and pushing it in.

"Oh, I understand, really. You didn't have to go through all of this."

"It's okay, I wanted to," he sat across from me.

We had spent the night eating and talking, and I opened up to him. I told him about my childhood and how much trouble I got into with my two sisters. I told him about the pegasus that I had back home and the first flying lesson that I ever had. Some of the adventures that I had in the summer court with Cordelia, Cressida's daughter. And, of course, some of my safer experiences. Nyx had opened up to me too, telling me how close his family is, and not just with him and his siblings but also with his cousins, his one big happy family. I enjoyed it even if it made me sad to think about my brother, who hardly acknowledged us, or my absent mother. His family seems inseparable from my messy dysfunctional one.

"So, how did you like Velaris? I heard you went out and explored."

'It's different."

"A good different?"

"It's beautiful, truly it is. I found a dress shop, and the owner was so nice."

"I should have told you when you walked in that you look beautiful; that dress really does look amazing on you," he said.

You look beautiful. That voice.

"It was you? Were you in my head" I half believed it myself?

"Oh yes, I'm sorry, must have forgotten that detail," he smirked, holding his wine glass to his lips.

"May I?" he asked. I nodded my head, and then this familiar presence pulled over me.

I wouldn't do it not without your permission, but I felt your thoughts, and they were racing. I thought that you might be in trouble.

And you can do this whenever you want

Only if you allow me

I paused momentarily, unsure how to process it, but then I remembered the dress shop and how it made me feel better after hearing him.

I wouldn't mind.

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[luveline]

hey! would you mind writing sirius black x reader (ole flame or something) when they meet for the first time since azkaban at a meeting for the order? thank you and happy holidays!

thank u for requesting, hope this is OK! ♡

—you and sirius both get to go home eventually, 2.2k. fem

You were still kids when Sirius… went away. You thought he hurt James and Lily, and it didn't matter that you loved him because he was evil and cruel and he hurt the people he loved most in the world, and then you were outposted thousands of miles eastward, your life a shadow. 

Remus sent you letters. You always answered, even when it hurt, but his last was too much to believe. You told yourself that someone forged his handwriting through a curse or some new gimmick, and then a second arrived with a smaller envelope hidden inside. 

No name written on it. No Dear anything to begin. 

Things are different to what you've been told. Please come home, it said. This penmanship was shaken like a hand out of practice, but something felt familiar in the curves and dots. 

If Remus’ letter (and the second smaller one too) were in fact telling the truth, it means you did something awful, and so, for a while, you don't go. 

Please, the next letter says, again enclosed within a larger explanation from Remus, I'm sorry. I just want to see you again. 

Getting home isn't as simple as he might think. You have to picture the destination very clearly to disapparate, and you have no sustained recollection anymore of the places you used to go. You remember silly things, slices of memories; the four of them laughing in a big green field, the sweet smell of hair oil to your left; the beige walls of a rented flat where you'd lay in bed for hours, sometimes days at a time, before things got too terrible to sleep; a string-lit garden that last summer, hands of poker on a glass table. These places aren't real anymore. You can't go back to them. 

Upon your request, Molly forwards you an address and a secret code. 

Trains, buses, trains again. A long walk through a cold street. Some secret this or that. You arrive in the night and a frowning face ushers you in, past a painting sealed away and up the creaking stairs. You spend hours sitting on the end of a bed coated in dust waiting for the sun to rise, your back stiff with nerves. You could slip out before anyone else knows you're here, it's not as if Moody would give you away. But why did you come, if you were going to run straight back to your outpost? 

You don't want Sirius’ betrayal to be true, of course. It took your breath away imagining what it would mean if he hadn't done what you thought. If it's all lies (as it seems to be), if he's innocent as he and Remus claim, it means you turned your back on him and left him to suffer, and he's still asking you to come home. 

A few people stir for breakfast. Molly, who's voice you remember, and some younger sounding ones that may be her children, or perhaps the newer Order recruits. Then comes Remus’ voice. He sounds different. Less Welsh, more tired. Homely anyways as he passes your door with someone beside him. 

“...any day now,” he's saying, “try not to worry.” 

“I do worry. I've worried about it every day for years.” 

You freeze up. 

The stairs creak, Remus’ voice moving further away. “She doesn't need worrying.” 

Sirius must stay at the top of the stairs for a moment. He sounds close. “I wouldn't know what she needs.” 

“Come have some breakfast.” 

“I'll write her again.” 

“After breakfast.” 

“What if she doesn't come?” 

“After breakfast,” Remus insists. “She can ignore you once we've had toast.” 

“I forgot how funny you are,” Sirius mutters. 

Hearing his voice fills you with doubt. He sounds nothing like he used to, no easy confidence to be heard, just fatigue. 

You look down at your hands. Hearing his voice has a new emotion sprouting, too. When you first learned what had happened to your friends, you felt anger like a knife everywhere you went. How could he do that to them? How could he do it to you, be that person, ruin everything you'd loved and made together? But later, when anger faded and grief ached, you'd missed the Sirius you loved. Shamefully, in longing pangs, you'd toss and turn to dreams where things were different. 

Now there's a chance he might still be that person, and you're hiding from him in his own house. 

“There's someone here,” Molly says as you leave your room, her voice nearly too quiet to hear from the kitchen. “Moody's told me this morning.” 

“What?” Arthur asks. 

“Who?” a younger voice says. 

A small intermission of quiet. “Well, I don't know,” Molly says eventually, though she must have guessed it was you from the letter you sent. “But I'll need another loaf of bread. You'd better go, boys.” 

“Mum,” one whines. 

“Come on now.” 

The stairs whimper as you descend, the bannister sticky with old gloss under your hand. Paisley wallpaper and drapes catch your eye as you pass the overflowing shoe rack. There must be more people here than you'd thought. The coat stand is similarly overloaded. 

You can see into the kitchen as soon as you take the last step down. Molly stands wringing a dish cloth between her hands, two teenage boys at the kitchen table. Remus stands near her right with a cup of tea, and when he sees you, he genuinely smiles. 

“Oh, good,” he says, the scar that bisects his lip pulling as he takes a sip of tea. 

The teenagers turn to see you. “Bread, boys! Arthur, you can go with them," Molly says.

Arthur doesn't complain. You falter in the hallway, quiet as the trio of Weasley's leave the kitchen in their slippers to take a quiet exit from the front door. They smile politely as they go, but the boys whisper as the door shuts behind them. You wonder if they have an inkling of who you are, and then you wonder what you might say now they're gone. 

Molly remains, inquisitive to know that you need privacy but also the security of her company. She was always smart like that.

“Come in, then,” Remus says. 

“I–” You clear your throat. “I'm not sure I should.” 

A startle of silverware against china. 

Remus gives you one of his looks. It has tears threatening to well. Why didn't I fight to see him more? you think. Suddenly years have passed and he's changed, but his reassuring glances remain. It's like he's saying everything is fine, why wouldn't everything be fine? Chin up, dove.

Sirius appears in the doorway. Dark circles beneath grey eyes, his cheeks gaunt with hunger rather than the sleek sharpness he once possessed. He's still pretty, if wounded. It's as though you've found an old photo of him that's been smudged with age. He's stepped out of one of your moulding albums to haunt you. 

“Angel,” he breathes, his hand clasped low on the doorway, “you're here.” 

You look past him to Molly and Remus. There isn't a reality nor dimension where they'd let him stay here if they didn't believe his innocence. Remus explained it all in the letter and still you worried if he might have gotten it wrong, and simply believed what he wanted to believe, but it's not possible. Remus loved James so much, he would've killed Sirius himself if he really thought Sirius was the secret keeper who betrayed them. 

So. It's a relief to be home. 

You stare at him. “You look tired,” you say quietly. 

“I'm fine. I am.” 

He seems alright, considering. You'd even say he was handsome with his hair pushed away from his face, a dark shadow of stubble around his mouth, but he looks exhausted.  

You're expecting him to say what you'd say. How could you ever think I'd do it? 

Sirius was prone to similar bouts of pride, or righteousness, justice, whatever you want to call it, but he doesn't bother with that now. He looks at you as though you're the only person on earth, gaze narrowed but eyes wide, pain between his brows as he asks, “What's wrong?” 

Your hand finches up to your cheek to wipe the sudden tear away. “I thought I'd never see you again.” Your Sirius. 

“Don't be upset,” he pleads. 

“How can I not be? I left you all alone for so long.” 

He laughs roughly. “Sweetheart, what were you supposed to do?” 

“Not just give up.” 

“You thought it was me. That's the only thing you could've done. Either of you,” he says, gesturing backward with his hand. “It was hard… to know who to trust, at the end. It's not your fault.” 

You really were only kids together, not half as in love as James and Lily, but that doesn't mean you weren't mad for each other. He looked after you. You would've had a life, you think. 

“You were just gone,” you say, looking down at the floor between you, eyes tracing lines of wood grain. “Everyone. There was nobody left. And I just let you go.” 

“Do you want to come here?” he asks. You lift your head. His hand is barely in front of him, fingers open, palm up. 

It's like taking a stranger's hand for the first few seconds. You keep them low between you both, unfamiliar to each other. But, you find, as his fingers wrap around yours in that selfish way they used to do, squeezing rather than intertwining to make all of them fit, he remembers you.

You step a little closer, your arm to his chest, and look up at him through your lashes. It would melt him like a candle near a furnace, this look. He'd be smug or seething about something and you'd sidle in to stand between his shoes, unsure of what to say but determined to be there for him. It's the same now.  

“What's wrong?” he asks under his breath. 

“I left you all alone,” you repeat. 

“It wasn't your choice, okay?” He smooths his free hand from your elbow to your upper arm. 

Molly says something to Remus. He chuckles and says something in return. Happier to admit it if it's only for Sirius’ ears, you say, “I'm really sorry, Sirius. I miss you every day.” 

“I miss you too,” he says. 

You push your arms around his waist and hide your face in his chest, feeling for the lines of who he used to be, the dip of his spine in his back or the soft cotton of one of his old t-shirts. You regret hugging him at all, until he puts his arm behind your head, a shaky breath released against your crown. 

I'm scared, he'd said. But I don't want you to be scared, okay? Barely twenty, he smelled of the sticky red powder on the end of matches after a night doing things he couldn't tell you about. You could tell him you loved him, and he you, but you weren't to discuss Order business. We'll be okay. 

But Lily–

Everyone's going to be fine. I promise. 

“You promised,” you say to yourself. Too quiet for him to hear, but he does. 

“I promised you so many things I'm not sure what one you mean,” he says with a disappointed laugh. 

You pull away, taking his face into two hands. “How do you feel?” you ask, ignoring the tremble working up from your wrists. 

“What?” His eyes are dark. 

“How are you? Did they– I mean, are you okay? Are you sick?” 

“Remus has patched me up. And Cordelia, the medwitch, you know her?” 

“I don't know anyone. I've been away.” 

He nods sadly. “Yeah. Well, you look the same.” 

“I don't.” 

“You do! You look the same,” —he almost sounds happy, his lips curling into a smile— “sweetheart. Sweetheart–” He closes his eyes. 

You push his hair behind his ears. “You don't look the same,” you confess, “you have wrinkles, right… here.” You touch the corners of his eyes. 

“You're still beautiful.” 

“Mm. You can't even see me.” 

“I don't need to see you. I knew you would be.” 

You rise up to kiss his cheek gently. “It's like you're back, like– like, I always felt like you were gone. And now you're home again. You are home, aren't you?” 

He covers your hand with one of his. “You're here, so–” 

You laugh together nervously. “Yeah, I'm here.” 

“I have stuff to do to make it right.” 

“Then we'll do it.” 

“Okay,” he says. He swallows a breath, and wraps you in a surprisingly tight hug. “Did you read my letters?” 

I don't want anything from you. Just to see you're okay. 

“I read them. I'm okay. Don't I look okay?” 

“You look perfect. Just like the last time I saw you,” he says. It startles you how suddenly he sounds like he did when you were young, his flirting drawl, voice velveteen. 

“Not like that,” you laugh. 

He pulls you as close as you can be, rough now, his arms solid around you. “I missed that,” he says, rubbing your back. “I forgot how you sound when you laugh.” 

You've led very different lives. “I didn't forget yours.” 

“You wouldn't. You love having things to hold against me.” 

You stroke his hair. “Maybe a little.” 

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black

[genderlessghoul]

Inspired by the recent puppy post from Motley Zoo and my undying love for animals, here's what I think each of the ghouls/ghoulettes would keep as a pet :

Phantom : He saw someone walking their dog his first week topside and made it his life mission to get one. After a lot of research and internal debate, he ended up adopting a pitbull/labrador mix from a local shelter. Her name is Petunia and she's the definition of sweet baby angel.

Mountain : He decided to fully commit to the farm boy aesthetic and he got himself some quails. They have their own coop and fenced little garden. They used to be have free range on the entire gardens but they'd always end up eating his vegetables. They look like tiny little chicks when he's holding them. He lets the other ghouls choose their name which unfortunately got him stuck with one called Cum. His favourite was affectionately named Nugget by Swiss.

Aether : Bunny. Tiny little miniature one too, all white except for a small black spot on its nose. It's free to roam around his room and Aether learned the hard way to hide any and all loose cables (more than once). He named it Dust. Because Dust Bunny. He swears it's funny.

Rain : AXOLOTL. She's albino and he named her Rose because of her pink little frill gills. He can understand her somehow, some weird water creature thing. She has a very simple brain tho and mostly screams at him for food. Dew and Swiss love to draw mustaches and hats on her tank with markers.

Dew : He has a black cat named Purrcifer. The cute little thing just started following him one day and Dew can't seem to get rid of him (not that he tried too hard). He says it's the Ministry's cat cuz he spends all day roaming around the ground and hunting mice, but the cat definitely sleeps in his bed every night.

Swiss : He swore he'd never get a pet, he's too unfocused to remember to take care of one properly. Until he accompanied Rain on a trip to the pet store and spotted a ball python. Love at first sight, just look at that puppy face. He spent weeks doing research and was pleased to learn that they only eat like once a week? Maybe every two weeks? That's perfect. He got a huuuge female and named her Fluffy. Fluffy is his pride and joy.

Aurora : Ferret. She wanted a cat at first but she discovered that they came in noodle format and was like !!!YES!!! She taught him fetch. They play with paper balls. He's stolen other ghouls' snacks on multiple occasions.

Sunshine : She really wanted a chameleon but she saw how high maintenance the suckers are and settled for a crested gecko. It doesn't officially have a name because it wouldn't recognize it anyway. Definition of no thought, head empty. Most times, she calls it NO STOP DON'T JUMP THERE. She loves it so fuckin much.

Cumulus : She has the cutest blue budgie. She taught it so many tunes that they sing together all day long. It loves nothing more than to hang on her shoulder all day and watch her do her tasks. One of its many favourite sounds to imitate is the ringtone of whoever's in the room with them. No one knows how it learned to differentiate them all.

Cirrus : She set up a pretty little saltwater tank in her room. It's home to two clownfish and their anemone. They're called Led Zeppelin and Metallica, no she will not take criticism on the name. The tank is very beautifully decorated and everyone keeps bugging her to put up a big one in the common room, which she always refuses cuz she doesn't trust any of them with salt water.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghoul #nameless ghouls #swiss ghost #swiss ghoul #dewdrop ghost #phantom ghoul #rain ghost #mountain ghoul #aether ghoul #cirrus ghost #cumulus ghost #aurora ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette #ghost headcanons #nameless ghoul headcanons

[tired-fandom-ndn]

The fact that Alastor is canonically more comfortable around women is so interesting to me.

He doesn't seem to mind it when Rosie and Nifty touch him or enter his personal space. Rosie also seems to be aware of his plans to some extent. Mimzy has been using him as a get out of jail free card for DECADES before he told her to stop.

Meanwhile, when he interacts with other men it is usually much more hostile. He humiliates Vox, keeps Zestial at a distance and refuses to share information, has a rivalry with Lucifer, and we all remember how the Husk scene went.

And that makes the idea of Alastor being in a lavender marriage in life so much more interesting, too.

Because Alastor is good with women, he genuinely LIKES spending time with them. Chances are he got along well with his wife, possibly being close friends.

And the more I think about it, the clearer I can see Alastor being raised by a single mother and developing "girly" hobbies, such as cooking or sewing, and being used to housework. A well-dressed man who hangs out with plenty of women but never makes an advance. There would be rumors about him being gay, and men would hate him either for getting too close to their wives, for being a pansy, or both.

Alastor, in hell, waiting patiently for his wife. Because she was his friend. Because she never loved him and he never loved her, but extra souls never hurt and he'd rather keep her close than let someone like Vox get his hands on her.

[context]

GOD ANON HOW DID YOU READ MY MIND

Like this is EXACTLY what I was picturing holy shit. Alastor raised by a single mother (or with a very absent and/or abusive father), taught how to cook, clean, sew, and garden. I headcanon that he was also a hunter from a pretty young age, but even then they worked together to make an income from the hunting, not just eating or selling the meat but also making clothes from the hides and furs. Alastor is, at his roots, a homemaker which was NOT at all typical for men in his time.

His mother also taught him how to respect women and treat them well, always the perfect gentleman, and that combined with his "oddities" and distrust of men definitely led to his friends being almost entirely women (probably with scattering of queer men). The rumors about him would've been RAMPANT, especially when combined with the racism he'd be facing anyway (Word of God says he's mixed, I headcanon him as Black and Choctaw on his mom's side, white on his dad's), which would just drive him further away from forming any sort of relationships with other men.

I think his wife (I've been headcanoning her as Black too, from a lowerclass family like Alastor's) was probably one of those friends, one of the many women who was easily charmed by his bright smiles and kindness but maybe one of the very, very few people who saw a hint of sharpness in his smile or heard the little thread of truth in his darker jokes. She didn't truly understand Alastor, not like Mimzy did, but she saw enough that he trusted they could have a relatively happy and open life together, with him using their marriage as a shield against suspicion. And the fact that their marriage would benefit her too, giving her more freedom than she would get from living with her family and letting her carry on her relationship with her own lover, was absolutely a bonus.

And they were happy. She didn't tell him about her lover, he didn't tell her about his little hobby, but they were happy. They made a home together, laughed and gossiped over meals, and filled their house with constant music and warmth. Their garden was the envy of their neighborhood (and if she wondered where he got the bones and blood their flowers loved so much, she never asked) and they were the life of every party they were invited to. They didn't love each other, but they didn't need to. They were friends and that's all that mattered.

And yeah, I think Alastor absolutely waited for her or sought her out in Hell. Maybe he never found her and was content in the knowledge that she made it into Heaven. Maybe he found her a few decades after his own death and offered her up a simple contract, something to protect her from other overlords while giving her as much freedom as an owned soul has. He keeps her on as one of his reserved souls (like I mentioned here) and they share meals together every so often and sometimes he summons her to act as a background singer or play an instrument to accompany his singing.

They never talk about their previous relationship, partially because it's just not important to who they are in Hell and partially because it would put her in too much danger. Alastor probably mentions having been married in life a few times and everyone just assumes that Mimzy was his wife and that her contract keeps her from talking about it.

#Anonymous #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel

[pebblerosegamer]

@tasmanianstripes Okay! Welp, cracks knuckles time to ramble about this absolute mess of a family that i love dearly.

But, just to let you know, this stuff may change or is still being worked out, and also that hollow in my main au isn't exactly the focus, so these are not permanent ideas, nor dynamics i plan rn to completely explore / finish.

Basically what i mean is that hollow does indeed get trapped in the black egg and pk never figures out they arent empty, rough life.

My pk, i see him as a caring and also very selfless character, i imagine thats why he did the black egg plan at all, despite all the misery and pain it caused him and others- sacrificing his clean name and his children so everyone else can thrive.

So we have a selfless guy who cares about everyone a lot, hows that tie in with hollow?

First I'll start at the beginning! At the beginning was of course the abyss climb, hollow making it to the top and emptily watching their other siblings fall, and of course then taken in by pk, from their perspective, pk could be seen as a savior almost, saving them- though i think hollow either knew, learnt of it later, or wasnt 'alive' yet, they werent exactly there for those first moments.

And from there pk cared for them, which hurt him because of what and who they are, but for hollow it was more enlightening, over time with the short very very very quiet moments the two had together, i think a bond formed, though an odd one, which was hollow very subtly and unknowingly liking pk and looking up to him, and pk being reminded of all hes done, and how much suffering he's caused, but also a thin sense of fondness, cause he did see them somewhat as his kid, despite how hard he tried not to…

I think this bond was thin and very subtle, and no one had any clue besides the few times pk had realized he was too soft with them, (and reined himself in, (only to later soften again subconsciously…)) he didn't want to get close at all, because he knew he'd loose them, and that they had to stay empty, and he didnt want to taint them.

Plus, the vessel to him is quite a sad reminder of all hes done, all the bloodshed- all those children gone- i believe he hid away the void constructs due to that reason aswell… he has a few quite, quite bad memories of those times that just- he'd rather not relive…

But at the time pk was very alone, his root left to care for her gardens and he naturally isolated himself, the vessel was really his only 'companion', so even despite that, he managed to begin caring for them anyway, occasionally, maybe after awhile, managing to overlook the memories.

I think when pk was sure they couldnt be tainted by his antics, he began staying a little longer with hollow, specifically whenever he told them to stay somewhere. I think he joined them on occasion, staring out into either the gardens, the ballroom, off the balcony, or perhaps in his office, he reminiscing, reflecting, and wondering, and of course the vessel doing none of the above- enjoying the empty company, and maybe the painful guilt? Maybe he saw it as some sort of punishment? Idk prob not the last one.

But! Now we get into the part where hornet shows up! How joyous.

Now when hornet came to the palace she wasnt allowed to the upper floors, where the vessel was usually kept, to which she grumpily stomped away and later stole a key and got into said upper floors~

Hornet's first reaction to hollow was probably just "why are they so tall" then approached them and glared at them for a solid minute, haha. I think hornet and hollow's relationship would be nonexistent, i think she'd be curious about who and what they are but clearly they cant talk nor want to so she seeks answers elsewhere, they also dont seem intrigued by the idea of playing knights, too busy staring off balconies or something… which leaves their bond quite hollow. (Haha get it)

Now though, with pk and hornet, and hollow watching them- i think they wouldn't think of anything, but when the two get closer i think they'd feel very slightly insecure, noticing how hornet is so lively and clearly a person, and how pk reacts and cares for her- i think subtly it would make them question themselves, wondering if they should be more like her to get father's approval- but also the entire kingdom would be doomed if that happened, simply they'd be quite torn, but in the end they stay empty…

Now, ive mentioned the xero incident before, and rambling about hollow here it reminds me that chances are, hollow could swoop in and protect pk when it happens- which thinking of it, sounds very interesting and gives hollow perhaps more meaning for pk, since we dont see most of the past of pk and hollow in my au… it could show a different side of them? I will have to think about it more.

But thats nearly all, besides the last few scenes with pk and hollow, which is them getting sealed away- i think those would be really, really tough moments for pk, i think whilst hes readying hollow to be trapped for literally eternity i think he'd just be thinking and thinking of it, realizing that- damnit, hes going to miss them, hes really really going to miss hollow- realizing how much they mean to him probably is one of the most painful realizations for pk in the story- especially since he thought he tried his darnest not to get attached… i wonder if he'd do some sort of final goodbye, nothing sappy like "i love you" though- i don't think he could express that since hes been denying that for like 3 years(?) straight, though maybe "goodbye." Or some variation of that. "My hollow knight, goodbye." < maybe??????????? Is that too sappy???????? I think???????? Probably too sappy…

Anyway i think after the plan i think it'd affect pk big time, i think he'll be looking out at the balcony hollow used to be left at and he'd just wanna cry, and remembering that he doesnt need to do those little routines for the vessel anymore- he'll probably catch himself going to the vessel's room to get them or almost prepping a bath for them, or wondering if its about time to clean up their armor, or sharpen their nail- nonetheless when he remembers again he'll feel sadly empty, like something is missing.

But, to do a TLDR; hollow is empty, but subtly, very subtly, longs to be more, pk is overly caring and an absolute softie, but tries not to show it to avoid tampering the vessel, also hollow makes him sad due to their history, but pk is too caring of a guy and loves hollow anyway, in conclusion everyone is sad 👍

#hollow knight #hk pale king #hollow knight pale king #my pile of rocks #hk thk #hk hollow #hk the hollow knight #hk pk #hk the pale king #hopefully i dont use ... too much i just love ... so much yk #there may be errors? ive read over this like 7 times so if there is im sorry the universe decided my mistakes were meant to be #ppl have probably said similar things bUT IDC #its MY au and I GET TO MAKE THE RAMBLE POSTS #my first ramble post :) #my rocks with words on them #a red thread au #hk au #hollow knight au #text post #good pale king

[gliyerabaa]

DO DOMESTIC FLUFFY GELPHIE HCs PLS

Oohhh I'm trying to think of ones I haven shared before...

- Elphie cooks, Glinda cleans. This is a popular HC in the fandom for a reason. There's just something so funny about the mental image of Glinda trying to cook and failing desperately. I like to think she still tries anyway, though. The first time she tried to make a meal they had to call the fire department. The second time she cooked, she nearly took off a finger with a kitchen knife. She only has the nerve to attempt a recipe a few times a year. Every year she tries to make a cake for Elphie's birthday. Fifteen years into their marriage and the cake is almost edible!

- No kids, two cats. Glinda was opposed to the idea of getting a cat at all. After a lot of convincing, she finally caved and allowed Elphaba to get Malky. Despite being Elphaba's cat, Malky wound up taking a liking to Glinda instantly. Once Glinda warmed up to him, they were inseparable. Elphie had to get a second cat because Malky and Glinda bonded so strongly. Probably a black cat, for the witchy vibes.

- Big garden. Inspired by the famous farmer AU on ao3, I love the idea of them having a big garden and growing most of their own food. Something about the idea of nurturing plants and controlling the production of food from seed to table is just such a beautiful thing to me. In this vein, I think that Glinda would do most of the actual tending to plants. Planting, watering, harvesting... she takes care of the plants themselves. Elphaba, ironically, does not have much of a green thumb and sticks to the more labor oriented tasks like plowing and weeding. She knows that Glinda hates getting her hands dirty if she can help it.

I'll reblog with additions if I have any! Thanks for the ask! :)

#gelphie #wicked the musical