#sits here waiting for a possible transparent of this art

[welcometoteyvat]

THE BOY!!!!!! id in alts (src from weibo)

#dont think anyone's posted this yet; its a car taxi (think uber) service ad #sits here waiting for a possible transparent of this art #my son...... #gaming #ga-ming #嘉明 #gaming genshin #genshin impact #official genshin content #ramblings! #id in alts #oh. that type of service is called ride hailing. i mindblanked.

[arrenlebanen777]

ASTRO OBSERVATIONS ❁

WARNING: Could include Content +18 

 ❁Those who have the 8th house ruler in the 11th house as Venus(Vedic): Usually Vedic astrology falls short here, they only say that this is about group s*x, earning money through s*x, winning a spouse through s*x (wtf), honestly I know people with this position and it is not like that, I am disappointed to see this in Vedic astrology... It actually means that Yes, you can be quite sensual and you have a charismatic aura that attract people easily, but it doesn’t mean group s*x or gaining money/spouse through s*x or all that type of shit, it means that you have refined sense for art, and that you can work in high status places like being an architect or something like that, and you are a person who likes high status things and who is quite concerned about popularity and reputation, and in s*x matters you are quite open-minded and usually you have fun here, but you can get caught up in pretty empty s*x, just for sensual pleasure, and actually can have very shady friends that are involved in shitty/secretive things. If you have this placement in Vedic astrology prove me wrong.

❁Lilith in a man natal chart doesn't mean the type of woman he fears: Is his inner child wounds, his repressed/violent/raw/shadow side. So women who have personal planets signs or have the energy of his Lilith, can make them feel really uncomfortable or not at all (depends on the maturity of the person) since they trigger this suppressed energy, which can generate friction in the interaction or it can even generate s*xual tension, leading to a healing/regenerative s*x, BUT NO FEARING!. So if you feel empowered because you trigger wounds in other human beings, it’s dark and it only talks about your psychological issues.

❁Your co-ruler of a house(intercepted sign), Doesn’t have less influence in your life and is not less important at all, actually having two rulers of a house could influence your life almost equally, it is just they get activated on different moments of your life. For example: if you have the ruler of your 8th house in the 11th house and the co-ruler of your 8th house inside the 8th house, you could feel the influence of your co-ruler more powerful than the ruler because it’s inside the same house and that is very powerful in astrology.

❁Capricorn rising: Girls with this position could feel a lot of anguish, they have a lot of discipline, Serious appearance, but they are sweet sweet people once you know them a little more(cancer DC), girls with cap AC have beautiful cheekbones, but there could be skin problems as well, and men with this position have very masculine bodies/appearance. ❁In vedic astrology a malefic/benefic planet doesn’t mean that is negative/positive, they all have their light and shadow side. ❁I find so annoying reading those astrology posts about your future spouse like serously that not depend on astrology, it depends on you, your vibration and what you do with your life. So if you're sitting there waiting for it to show up in any moment... You have no idea all the influences in your life that can complicate that, such as: your limiting beliefs, your fears, Solar return influences, your subconscious, Traumas, Arrogance, immaturity, etc...and in fact we can quite transcend our natal charts and attract the person/relationship we want/deserve, have you heard about manifestation? ❁To all the people who have asteroid Eros(433) in the 11th house/Aquarius: You are really in to group s*x, orgies or anything like that? or in reality you are into mental stimulation, mental compatibility and trying new things? (i read you) ❁If you have placements in hard aspects(conjunction, square, opposition) with Saturn, Don’t be afraid, because the only thing that Saturn is asking you for is maturity & integrity to express those energies(planets/asteroids/archetypes) of your chart in the most mature/authentic/honest/transparent way possible, that is why a lot of people don’t like Saturn, because they are very immature, lacks integrity and just want to fill the void of their egos…and Saturn is not going to support that. Because probably in your past life(s) you handled those energies like shit, and in this life Saturn comes to correct that.  ❁The other day i read a post from a person here in the community giving an incredible theory(if you know who it is, I give all the credit to that person): Your birth chart is your Sun persona chart(personality/ego), Moon persona chart(Emotional needs), Venus persona chart(what are your desires), Mars persona chart(Ambitions and s*xual desires), and like that... it is a good theory but it falls short in some planets, For example: Mercury( i see the mercury persona chart of a lot of people and they are very similar), and due to the social/transpersonal planets influence too. “But if you really want to know yourself more deeply and fulfill the desires/needs of each planet/asteroid you have, look at the persona chart of each one of them”. ❁Vedic astrology sometimes falls short with Venus. ❁Venus aspecting Neptune or Neptune in 8th house: They might like/love when they see their partners/lovers crying, it kinda turns them on. “I have this and I find it really beautiful when I've seen them cry, I find it so pure, watery, spiritual, otherworldly and honest. And yes, it kinda turns me on too lol” Anyone relate to this? (I read you) ❁Men with Mars in Scorpio or Aspecting Pluto/Pluto in 8th house: Doesn’t have big d*cks, in fact it's quite average, but if they like you, they can stay hard and strong all night, because Pluto here gives raw power and that is a very intimidating stamina and libido that is not easily transmutable. ❁Men with Mars in Pisces/Aspecting Neptune or Neptune in 8th house: Here it gives the illusion of a Big D*ck, their p*nises have an special energy that can easily cause sensitivity and even org*sms to their partners, their energy it’s like chi/Prana/life force and that can be quite regenerating/even addictive. Here is not about big stamina or crazy libidos... Is about connection, adaptability & merging.

❁Men with Mars in Cancer or Aspecting Moon/Moon in 8th house: Something strange and magical happens with these individuals, their d*cks grow depending on the emotional connection they have with a person, it means that if they honestly connect with you physically, emotionally and mentally, their d*cks can Grow a lot, to the maximum range that their p*nises can, and sometimes it can grow a little more than expected if they are in love with you, but if the connection is poor and shallow, their d*cks retract and tend to shrink, because their d*cks are one with their hearts/emotions. ❁Men with Mars in Capricorn or Aspecting Saturn/Saturn 8th house: Something similar happens with the moon aspect, but here Saturns asks for maturity, so if they go out with you and they find you important in their lives a lot of stamina and endurance will be unlocked, usually their d*cks don’t grow like with the moon aspect but they get hard as a rock, and Saturn has an other side:”He is dirty AF” so if they find you important (or not at all, the other extreme), they can be very nasty and like demons in bed.

#vedic astrology #vedic astro observations #vedic astro notes #mars in scorpio #mars in cancer #mars in capricorn #mars aspects #capricorn #astrology observations #astrology posts #astrology #astro notes #astrology obs #astrology blog #astro observations #zodiac side of tumblr #zodiac tumblr #8th house #11th house #venus #lilith #lilith aspects #pluto #moon #mars in pisces #neptune #saturn #venus aspects #astro community #+18

[joyburble]

The mourning suit. This is the costume that instantly made me go "WHAT? oh, no" Because look at it. It looks like it's made of wool. This is the moment it appears, half way through episode 33. What.

There's no embellishment, no shine of any kind, no transparency unless it's backlit. I can't tell what the material really is, but it looks like a fine dark grey wool with a subtle richness of shade in the weave, and a sort of crepe edging (which the sleeves also have).

That seam along the top of the shoulder is surprising: visible seams hardly happen in his other costumes, except when they're revealed by patterns, and specifically not there.

None of these high-necked, imperious undershirts. No glitter. No train. No storm-clouds of gauze, no explosions of gold, no river of velvet in five shades of honey, no roots of the forest, no flames, not even the black satin or the silver moonscapes he wore in the human realm. Just a leather belt on top and skin underneath. Not even a buckle.

The total effect of he way the sleeves hang, the textures, and the composition of the shot above, is to make him look tiny in relation to Shangque. Our eyes are invited to abandon the delusion that he is tall or imposing, and recognise the body of a dancer.

The headpiece points down more than up, and hardly even shines. It could be jet, and you can hardly see it from the front, it just makes absurd little antennae above the ears.

It's ankle-length, and there's no train at all; the shape is relatively practical, like the hunting dress, or like Shangque's outfit.

Of all the costumes, I think this has two other outstanding, and contradictory, properties:

it's the one that can only be created instantaneously out of the fabric of fantasy spacetime by the character's state of mind. In the previous scene, in the same location, he was still wearing the Fire Gown. What purpose or occasion could possibly explain this having ever been made for him? It's intentionally unclear how either clothes or bodies are supposed to work in-universe, but can you imagine this sitting in a sandalwood chest in Moon Palace waiting to be magically summoned? It's a nope from me.

It's the one that's most explicit about someone having made it. There's a visible shoulder seam, and another that joins the sleeve.

This outfit is an extreme contrast of visual texture with every other thing the character has worn, up to this moment.

And, to my Western eye, the colour and unadorned texture, not to mention the lapels, bring an association of ideas which I will call on the art historian Anne Hollander to explain. She's writing about the genesis of the modern Western suit, about 1810:

"Formerly the play of light on rich and glinting textures had seemed to endow the gentleman with the play of aristocratic sensibility, and made him an appropriate vessel for exquisite courtesy, schooled wit, and refined arrogance without having to reveal the true fibre and calibre of his individual soul any more than that of his body. ... ... Brocade and embroidery had once indicated the generic superiority even of quite inferior individuals, and had displayed the beauty of the costume, not the man. Careful fit witout adornment, on the other hand, emphasizes the unique grace of the individual body - indeed creates it, in the highest tailoring tradition. The man's rank, or even his deeds, are irrelevant to the fine cut of his plain coat; only his personal qualities are shown to matter. ... ... The perfect man, as conceived by English tailors, was part English country gentleman, part innocent natural Adam, and part naked Apollo the creator and destroyer ... expressed not in bronze or marble but in natural wool, linen, and leather, wearing an easy skin as perfect as the silky pelt of the ideal hound or horse, lion or panther."

Anne Hollander, Sex and Suits, pp 90-91

As a visual comparison, here are three actual suits being worn in masterly fashion by (l to r) Tony Leung, Wang Yibo, and Eric Wang in the trailer for Hidden Blade (2023), which happens to be on my dash:

You see Hollander's point about the panther, right?

I also think it's a great illustration of another point she makes: the similarity of these three different suits focuses your attention on how different these three men really look. But that's another story.

I should spell out here that it's possible, and likely, that my association of ideas here was mostly a coincidence based on the very first glimpse, and the mood they were really going for with this costume is nothing more than humility and grief. The concept of a suit is not just texture and colour and visual simplicity: the complicated, multi-layered inner construction that uses the unique structural properties of wool cloth to create that illusion of panther-like simplicity is important, and tailoring is not being used in that way for this costume, at least not visibly. Other costumes have more fit-and-cut going on than this one.

But, either way. The drastic visual contrast is telling us that we are down to business now, the setup is over, it's all unwind from here.

So, I called this the mourning suit, since that's what he's mostly doing in this series of scenes, and I can't resist the opportunity for a pun that goes with the colour scheme.

And I felt like I was being told: now we find out who he really is and what he does when the chips are down. I for one was delighted to see that "who he really is" still includes "hilarious bitch", among other things. Pour one out for Lady Chiedi. Changheng is right there. The grey underlayer has a subtle pattern.

He continues to wear this right through episodes 34 (this beautiful scene where he tries to be a dick and then silently concedes Shangque's point). The dark top layer is split at the sides, which creates this cute fanned-out tail, like a bird.

Shangque is such a good friend.

The breakdown in Ep 35. This was the nearest I could find to a full-length view of this outfit that's close enough to see anything.

It's still with us when a revelation triggers "RTFM: The Comeback" (see this):

In another visually shocking departure from everything we've seen before: there's no long under-sleeve covering the wrists. The big sleeves just fall back as the 'rescue' theme rises in the music.

The goodbye snog. This grey underlayer actually seems to be two layers, which brings this to the usual number of visible layers, it's just that the inner layer hasn't got the high neck we were seeing before, and the top layer goes under the belt rather than over.

The dramatic exit - and I was delighted to see that as well as "the bitchy part" and "the part that Reads The Fucking Manual and compares it with the data", we also still have "the dramatic flouncy part" of his personality.

Minus glitter, dramatic eyeliner, rivers of velvet or clouds of gauze, he's still backing himself to seize the situation by the throat, and I love that for him.

After this, it isn't worn again.

Anyway: the point of this costume is to pack an emotional punch by its contrast to everything else, and it does that very well.

The DFQC costumes master post is here.

#love between fairy and devil #costumes #lbfad #cang lan jue #dongfang qingcang #dongfang qingcang's fashion sense

[senorincognito69]

46 - Lady Krampus' naughty list (Monthly tale - 46)

(Woman into donkey)*

Metamorphose Aesthetics: Season 2

Manip by TransformationMagic

(Original manip: https://www.deviantart.com/transformationmagic/art/Dumb-ass-918153062 )

https://i.imgur.com/rUk5fRs.jpg

The secretary was busy standing on a chair, putting up the office Christmas decorations. Simone, for her part, wasn’t doing anything else other than sitting with her legs crossed at a desk enjoying a cigarette. An hourglass figured, freckled bombshell, she was a tall white young woman with plenty of curves. A large rear that was her pride and joy, fantastic breasts and long brown hair. Wearing black high heels, stockings, a long grey skirt and a teasingly transparent blouse.

Simone took a long drag from her smoke and continued bitching.

“I just think it’s quite hypocritical on your part,” she replied. “I never got anything I wanted for Christmas as a kid, so, obviously, I don’t like the season. You on the other hand probably always got everything you wanted, which is fine, but why do I have to be forced to pretend to be nice? Why do I have to be forced to participate in your collective festive delusion?”

The secretary sighed.

“Holy Santa, I only asked you to hold the chair! You are absolutely insufferable sometimes!” the woman sighed. “Most of the time actually! Also your argument sucks!”

“It sucks… or is it just that you don’t want to admit when you’re wrong?” Simone pointed at the struggling secretary with her cigarette. “Christmas is bullshit, just cooperative propaganda. I’m sorry to be the Grinch, but someone had to break it to you.”

“What are… Wait…Have you even read the Grinch?”

Simone shrugged.

“Nah, not really.”

“We work for a children’s book publisher, Simone! Geez, like, it’s okay if you don’t like Christmas but that’s no excuse to be an absolute ass to everybody!”

Simone had stopped paying attention, leaning back at the desk she saw a very expensive Mercedes arriving in the parking lot through the window, with a smirk across her lips she stubbed out the cigarette in a nearby plant pot.

“Yeh, yeh, whatever…” she said, getting up. “Look, the lesson here is that magic elves aren’t gonna give you anything for free, you have to get it yourself!”

Simone slapped the secretary’s butt as she walked out, the poor woman almost fell off the chair.

“You are such a jackass!” the secretary cried into the distance.

Shaking her hips and making her heels click on the hard floor, Simone walked down the office, attracting the looks of some of her coworkers, but she didn’t care, not about them anyhow, she had other goals in mind. By the time the boss arrived at his office she was already there, leaning against his desk with her hands in the waist.

“Hi, there, Mister Boss,” she greeted him sensually.

Her boss froze at the door.

“Hi… Simone…” he babbled, slowly.

“Do you like the decorations?”

“Oh? Ah, yes, you all did a wonderful job with… that thing… What… What are you doing in my office?”

“Nothing, just wanting to ask you about that raise I clearly deserve again. I had the feeling you were trying to avoid me, Mister Boss, so I want your undivided attention.”

“Simone, w-we already talked about it, it’s just not possible right now…”

“Aren’t you even gonna listen to my counter-offer?”

“Counter-offer?

Simone showed her back to the man and, effortlessly and shamelessly pulled down her skirt, exposing her round buttocks.

“I’m not wearing panties,” she clarified.

“Simone, please… I’m… married…”

“Why do you say that every time, Mister Boss?”

“I…”

Her boss was helpless, almost frozen, before that ass, a hardon building up inside his pants. With obviously malicious intent Simone proceeded to pull up her skirt, so it ended up rolled around her waist, she leaned over the desk.

If she had a tail she would have lifted it high up.

“Then, boss, are you gonna give me a ride or are you gonna make me leave? It's cold outside, it’s a very cold winter… Are you gonna let my poor butt freeze, stud?”

There wasn’t anything else to be said, that ass had to be kept warm.

The door of the office was closed, his penis was freed from his pants. Soon Simone had to hold herself to the desk as the man pumped her… and she loved it. Truth was she was used to getting what she wanted, and what she wanted, more than the money or the attention, was the lust.

Sex.

Turning men into her play-things, being the dominant one, the one with the power, in control… the breeding… Her tongue pushed out as the man began to play with her tits, she had thought that if she could have her life be just this she would gladly take it all so many times….

Some might have said that it was sort of contradictory and that it was a path set for disaster.

Others were taking notes.

Not just the secretary earsdropping behind the door, listening once again to the sexual rutting with a blush in her face.

But far, far away, up north… where the land was covered in snow…

The fireplace was crackling, keeping Lady Krampus’ office warm. It was a busy day, the mother of all winters was finishing up her list and there was still plenty of room for some naughty girls… such as Simone.

Lady Krampus was almost surprised when the sudden echo of the woman’s raw orgasms reached her ears, followed up by chuckling and the voice of a panting man asking something about a Christmas party. That was all, Santa’s wife didn’t need anything more, she picked up one of her pens, the vixen one, and wrote down Simone’s name on the list, between Jessica, a bad mother set to become a nice gift, and Olivia, who’s obnoxiousness was going to turn her into a penguin. Unrepentantly fucking her married boss for the seventh time, it would be the last bad deed Simone would ever be allowed to commit… as a human at least.

December the twenty fifth swiftly arrived.

The Christmas party was at Mister Boss’ house, when Simone arrived, wearing a skimpy Santa dress, she greeted her lover’s wife with two kisses on each cheek. Simone didn’t intend to stay for long, just long enough to grab some food and booze and then leave for a real party,the kind she liked because they were more about sex than Christmas.

Her plan was abruptly halted in the weirdest of ways: There was a gift for her under the tree.

A gift that nobody knew where it was from. Every other party-goer and the owners of the house all claimed and swore they had no clue how that gift was there, but what was obvious and clear is that the gift was for Simone.

“Come on, Simone, open it! It’s the easiest way to figure out who's your secret admirer!” the secretary chuckled, who had very low tolerance for booze and had drunk half a glass of champagne.

Everybody agreed in a very democratic way that the rationale was correct, everybody except Simone, but her opinion didn’t seem to matter much and after some nagging she agreed, feeling annoyed.

“Okay!” she grunted. “I will open it! But if it’s a joke I’m gonna be pissed!”

She knelt down near the tree and, with everyone at the party’s attention focused on her, and with the feeling it was a terrible idea, she opened her first ever Christmas gift… if you believed her stories…

The only thing she found inside was a letter.

Simone didn’t read it out loud, it was a personal letter for her, but when she read down what was written on the paper it was as if something was whispering right into her ear.

“Dear Naughty Girl

Santa’s Wife wishes you Merry Christmas, because they are your last ones as a human.

‘This night you shall become an ass, by next year the breeding stall will be your whole life

Take care and enjoy the braying

Lady Krampus“

Her surroundings became silent as Simone read the letter, she read it a couple more times with her eyes wide open… and her heart burdened..

“It's a letter, isn't it?” the secretary asked, breaking the short moment of odd tension with giggles. “What does it say? Come on, don’t make us wait! Is it something kinky?”

Simone clenched her fist around the paper, crumpling it into a ball.

“Very fucking funny, Olivia!” Simone yelled, getting up. “Amazing gift!”

The party gasped.

The secretary blinked, drunk and confused by that sudden attack.

“Excuse me?” she babbled. “I didn’t put that gift there…!”

“Yeah, sure, of course! If you are jealous because I have a sex life there’s less stupid ways to tell me, you dry cunt bitch!”

“I’m not…! Simone… What did it say in the letter? Are you alright?”

Simone wasn’t alright at all, a heat was building in her groin, but she didn’t want the help of any of the people at the party. Her eyes watered slightly as she felt the pressure of their stares.

“Fuck you all!”

Like a winter wind she stormed out of the house, upset beyond reason, not even picking up her coat and with the letter squeezed in her fist. Outside she tore apart the letter and screamed at the night sky.

She didn’t feel cold.

The echo of dozens of parties surrounded her in every direction, and she wanted to go to them, to fuck… but that letter had spoilt everything…

Instead, completely frustrated, she managed to make it back to her apartment. Stipping completly naked Simone crawled on top of her bed, the cold sheets didn’t calm the warmth growing in her pussy.

“Fuck Christmas…” she barked. “I’m not an ass!”

Rolling around, feeling nervous and uncomfortable, she tried to sleep and forget… but the oniric realm didn’t offer any escape from Lady Krampus’ grasp…

She wasn’t a donkey…

She was a queen, a dominatrix…

Hair tied into a tall ponytail, wearing dark latex, a whip in her hands. Not just dominant, but a dominatrix.

Her sex-pet was already tied up and gagged on the bed.

“Do you want mommy to teach you a lesson, foal?”

Why did she use that word? Foal? The dream-thought floated in the mist of the dream until the sex-pet gurgled eagerly that he did indeed want his mommy.

Simone smirked, cracked her whip and began to play with her toy. Teasing with her harmless weapon, touching, pulling, slapping… His cock was out and it was very, very hard…

She chuckled.

“Look what you did, you got all stiff!” she grabbed and squeezed the man’s balls. “What am I supposed to do now? Lick it?”

A slap of the whip.

“GNNNNNNNGHHHHHHHH!”

Smirking, Simone knelt down in front of the cock… her heart was beating hard, now it was a donkey’s cock… Tall, muscular, tubular, pink… Her mouth watered, opening, her head shook…

“N-no…! No! No…!” Simone mumbled in her bed.

Rolling around naked, horny, trapped in her dreams.

“I’m not an ass…! I’m not an ass…! I’m not… a naughty jenny…!”

She stretched herself, powerless to stop the overflowing lust. Her pussy was so hot it could very well have been glowing. In desperation, between the realm of the dramatic and the reality of the flesh, Simone tried to regain any semblance of control.

Standing up, walking away from the jackass’ dick.

She was…

An equestrian…

Wearing tall boots and tight pants wrapping her ass, she was a horse rider, the owner of the stables. No beast of burden, but a tamer of the equine.

“I’m a stallion rider… not…” she gulped. “A stallion’s ride…”

An echo reached her ears, her heart was bouncing inside her chest once more. Feeling afraid, she looked around… the door out to the backyard…

Simone slowly opened it…

She saw the meadow on a hill, sheep grazing, too many to count, but not a single horse on sight.

The echo hit her ears again.

The braying.

Two grey furred donkeys were up there on the grassland, a jackass… and a jennet…

Eyelids opened wide when Simone saw the male’s cock coming out, the female having completely stopped her trotting, waiting for him. The big equine penis… Simone froze… she was completely naked, both in the bedroom and in the meadow…

With a quick hop the jackass mounted the jenny and began to do what was just natural to them: Mating, breeding.

They rutted there in the wild, unashamed, unapologetic, unshackled, just as beasts are meant to. Braying at full intensity.

Simone’s eyes watered, her lips shook… a whisper came out of her heart…

“I… I wanna…”

Horror clenched her body as soon as the dream caught her confession. She dropped to her knees, then onto all fours, a rush of panic.

“No! NO! That’s wrong! I didn’t! I’m no beast!” she cried.

But she couldn’t stand up as a person, she couldn’t deny the heat any longer. Rolling around crazily on the bed, covered in the salt of sweat and tears. The shadow of the jackass on top of her, the ache in her muscles, her pussy reaching orgasm.

“I’m a…! I AM A…!”

Her breath quickened.

Animalistic fear.

She saw herself… black brown fur…

Then…it left her throat…

“AM AAAAAAAAAAW! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAW! HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HAAAAAW! HEEEEEEEE HAWWWWWWW! HAW! HAW! HAW!”

Simone lifted herself up on top of the bed, fully awake as if a mule had kicked her out of her dreams back to reality. She cried, brayed, touching her body, pulling her hair.

“NOOOOOOOOOH! I’m not a freaking ass! I’m not! I’m a noOOOTH! HOOOOOW HEEEEEEEEEEEEE OOOOOOOOOOH!”

Her teeth bucked out of her lips as she brayed in frustrated panic. Her ears tingled and rampantly stretched, covered in fur, black brown fur, migrating to the top of her head where she grabbed and pulled them down in front of her eyes.

Pupils stretched horizontally.

Donkey ears.

“THIS IS NOT HAPPENING TO ME! NOOO! FUCK CHRISTMAS! FUCK CHRISTMAS! AAAAAAAAANGHHHHHHHHHH!”

A pinch of pleasurable pain made her pause from grabbing her long flexible ears when her hands flew towards her butt. Squeezing her buttocks she lowered her ears, trying to look behind her… a patch of fur sprouted above her ass, then a tail erupted out of her spine.

“HEEEEEEEEE HAW! HEEEEEEEEEEEE HAW!”

The tail swung left and right, then lifted up, a turf of hair sprouted at the end as Simone’s womanly vagina and anus were reformed into the beastly equine.

Impotent, incapable of doing anything else, she leaned forward over the bed, stretching as her legs were stretched, covered in more fur. She bent her knees, raising her legs, curling her toes in a vain attempt to stop their transformation into hooves.

It didn’t work.

Donkey legs from which fur quickly climbed towards her knees. Her arse expanding in size and mass. Simone put a hand over her feverish forehead, softly sobbing, grunting, snorting.

“Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw…” a short moment of serenity in the metamorphosis that was followed up by a louder snort. “I DON’T haaaaw WANNAAAAAAAAAAAAW!”

Bone twisting pain, then cracking noises. Her shoulders lengthened forwards, then backwards. With great effort she pulled herself to the edge of the bed and dropped down, heavy and blunt.

She attempted to get up.

“Heeee haw!”

Only to drop back down onto all fours. The increasing mass of her rear made it’s  weight almost unbearable and that was even without taking into account the itchiness of the growing coat of thick fur. Her tail tensed, her back hooves clopped and slid across the floor as she bent her back, permanently locked into a quadrupedal pose.

“HEEEEEEEEEE HAAAAAAAAAAAAW!”

Behind her her whole body was completely consumed by the changes, the hairy butt of a jennet.

A donkey’s ass for the ass she was meant to be.

Simone looked behind and saw the sorry state of her butt-area. She was growing and expanding, way beyond her human form. Her belly swelled and became round, her breasts shrank and slid towards her crotch, to become fat black teats, a straight line of hair, that of a donkey’s mane, grew from the centre of her human hair.

She finally broke.

“PLEASH! Please! No moreeeeeeeeEEEEEEEH!” she begged with a deepening voice. “I haaaaw learnt! Will no beeeeeee nautgheeeeeeey nhowmore! I sweaaaaar! Iiiiii SWEAAAAAAAAAR! SWEEEEEEEEEEH HAAAAAAAAAAAAAWR!”

But, deep down, she knew it was pointless to complain, even more so after she felt her jenny clit wink in horny anticipation. If she didn’t want this end she wouldn’t have gotten herself onto Lady Krampus’ list to begin with.

Yet, there was one thing her rightful punishment couldn’t rob her of, because if her fate was to be a donkey she fully intended to express her frustration as what she was becoming.

Kicking and jumping in direct confrontation with the end of her humanity. Simone bounced all over the room, destroying the bed, cracking wood with her head, smashing glass with her hooves.

Braying, braying without pause.

“HEEEEE HAW! HEEEEEEE HAW! HEEEEEEEEE HAW!”

She lifted her backside, standing on her hands, to hit a lamp with one of the kicks, and as she did it, those hands became her other pair of sturdy hooves.

Her neck lengthened and bulked, her ribcaged barreled.

A last brutal bray.

“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Simone’s head cracked, her skull pushed forward, stretching her face into a muzzle at the same time everything was consumed by the fur… her voice and the silhouette of her shadow lost any trace of the womanly…

In the end, only an angry brown furred female donkey remained in the bedroom.

A jenny.

An ass.

The beast kept braying and destroying until she was exhausted and by that time animal control, alerted by a worried neighbour, were already there. The professional animal catcher had no trouble guiding the tired donkey out of the house despite her best efforts to avoid it.

It was pointless defiance, humans can’t understand braying.

She was soon checked over by a veterinarian, certified as a healthy adult jenny and, eventually, because it couldn’t have been any other way, she was sent to a farm to live among her kind. It was an annoying surprise how easily she found herself adapting to the routine of the farm. It was simple, natural, not so different from the office… she fit in so well that she seemed to have been born to it, which was comfortably mortifying.

Perhaps ironically there was only one aspect of her new life she tried to avoid for as long as she could.

Mating.

Despite the kind of woman she had been, as an ass she avoided the males like they were a scourge at that point  the farmhands noticed it, mocking the poor jenny and giving her a few unsavoury nicknames.

But even though she held out as long as she could,  that could only mean that some months later, in due course, she found herself in the breeding stall, where she could no longer avoid either the male, nor her body’s needs.

Every inch of her flesh wanted it and the jackass was surprisingly gentle, by the standards of jackasses at least. A smooth and enjoyable experience during which she was nothing but a jenny, a lustful jenny in heat taking the weight of her male and the load of his cock without a single hint of remorse. Yet, after the deed… it was still a bittersweet thought to swallow that any hope of walking again on two legs were shattered by the best orgasms of her life…

The first of many more equally good ones.

One year later winter came back, to nobody's surprise, with the cold early morning light shining across the snow the jennet moved out of her stall, a trick only she was able to pull off, to calmly walk down to the field. She had gained some weight, but most of the swelling in her belly was a product of her pregnancy.

Naughty office girl Simone was apparently completely forgotten, if some folk had maybe cared about her disappearance, their complaints hadn’t lasted long. Even the jenny herself had trouble remembering her previous self.

Her heart knew that even if she did have a chance to be Simone again she would most likely reject it, because being Simone now seemed just too much of a hassle.

She stopped to contemplate her life, soon it would be December Twenty Five again.

Her first one on the farm.

Her first one as no longer human.

Lady Krampus had told her no lie, her life had indeed become the breeding stall and even if she certainly enjoyed that…

The jennet still didn’t like Christmas one bit.

---If you want to see more kinky TF shenanigans give a click to these links! ^^

-Furaffinity: https://www.furaffinity.net/user/senorincognito69

-DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/senorincognito69

-Twitter: https://twitter.com/SIncognito69

--If you want to support and help me do more stuff:

-Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/senorincognito69

-Gumroad: https://app.gumroad.com/senorincognito69

-Pixiv Fanbox: https://senorincognito69.fanbox.cc/

-Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/senorincognito69

#TF Tale #tales #transformation #Donkey

[rowanaelinn]

Kinktober - Day Three (thigh riding)

“You’re drunk,” Rowan stated, holding Aelin by the hips as she straddled him. He was sitting on a couch, not the most comfortable one but it’ll have to do the trick.

Aelin only laughed, reaching for another kiss. Rowan had been looking so hot all night long, his hair perfectly done and freshly cut, his three-piece suit hugging his muscles, the sleeve of the white shirt transparent enough to give a hint of his tattoo. Her boyfriend always looked good, and maybe it was either the adrenaline from the team’s win still in her veins or the alcohol, but Aelin had decided tonight would be the night.

Tonight, Aelin would sleep with her boyfriend.

They had hated each other from the first time they met. He was too broody for her, and she was too careless for him. No matter that he was the captain of the national football team, Aelin had never thought of him as more than a pain in the ass.

But after two years of banter and hatred, they had started getting along, and slowly, their friendship turned into more.

They had been dating for a month now but hadn’t done more than kissing because Rowan didn’t want to ruin things. He wanted them to take their time. Aelin found it stupid but had agreed because that’s was Rowan wanted.

But she was done with the waiting now, she had her most beautiful green (Rowan’s favorite color) lacy underwear under her dress. Even if they hadn’t done more than kissing didn’t mean they hadn’t talked about it.

During one of their long session of sexting, Rowan had confided in her he had never been more turned on than when she had put on one of her golden dresses, something about the short skirt. Aelin kept that information in the back of her mind for the perfect moment, for tonight. So sure, the dress was longer than what she was used to, but still short enough to be to her and his liking, because she didn’t want to embarrass him when this party was entirely for work, but it was still gold and it showed her breast in the best way possible.

She had been so stressed out about this, about what he would think of her, that her best friend Lysandra helped her by talking to her and giving her drinks.

“Thanks for the information, Captain Obvious,” she murmured on his lips.

Rowan snorted at her. “You’re impossible.”

He kissed her again, opening his mouth to let their tongue play lazily together. Slowly, Aelin’s hips began to roll, causing friction for both of them. Lorcan had been nice enough to subtly tell her this room was never used, winking at her and murmuring something that sounded a lot like you need to get laid.

Her hands grabbed his hair, pulling at it, tearing a groan out of his perfect lips. “Rowan…” She moans, the friction doing wonder for her.

“Aelin,” he said, voice small. She thought he was moaning, but when he repeated her name in a stronger way and his hands came to her hips, stopping her movement, she knew she had been very wrong.

She frowned and he looked apologetic. “What is it?”

“Stop this. Don’t start something you won’t finish,” he told her without any bite in his voice. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

“But I want to finish.”

“I don’t.” He said and it was like a cold shower for her. Is that why he wanted to wait? Because he didn’t want her? “Not tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not having my first time with you while you’re so drunk you didn’t walk straight when you walked here.”

She wanted to tell him she wasn’t that drunk, but it would be a lie. Lysandra had given her a lot to drink and very fast. “But I’m okay with it.”

“Yeah, even if I believed that, which I don’t until you tell me this sober, I still wouldn’t want our first time to be with a half-asleep Aelin.”

She groaned, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. She wanted to cry, she was so turned on. She didn’t feel like she wanted to release, she needed it. Rolling her hips against him, feeling his hardened length, she cried out. “I’m so needy, Rowan.”

He took her head between his hands, forcing her to look at him. “Is that true?” The look of hunger in his eyes did nothing to calm down the heat polling at her core. She nodded, earning half a smile from him. “Then allow me to help you,” He said. “With clothes on,” he clarified at the look of ecstasy on her face.

A frown. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer, he only roamed his hands on her body until he reached her hips. He grabbed her and he parted his legs so she was straddling only one of them. And then, he made her move on his thigh.

“Oh fuck,” she swore loudly. Rowan only chuckled, taking the hem of her dress and pulling it around her waist so the only barrier between their bodies was her panties and his pants.

His lips crashed onto hers as his hands came to rest on her ass, making her hips roll on his thigh, causing friction.

“You gotta be quiet for me, angel.” He murmured on her lips. She nodded emergently, everything he wanted as long as he kept doing this.

Soon enough, her hips made the movement by themselves but that didn’t stop Rowan from helping her. “That’s it, take what you want,” he told her as she went faster. His words urged her on even more.

“Keep,” she moaned as one of Rowan’s hands gripped one of her breasts over the fabric of her dress. “Keep talking to me.”

“Yeah?” He asked, voice full of pride. “You like it when I talk to you, baby?”

“Oh gods,” she tried to muffle her moan in his shoulder. She nodded strongly, losing her mind over the pressure on both her clit and breast.

“I thought about fucking you all day long,” he admitted, pinching her covered nipple between two of his fingers. “When I was on the field and I needed motivation I thought about what your pretty cunt would feel like around my cock.”

“Fuck!” She whined, her hips going at a tremendous pace.

“I wondered if you were the loud type or quieter, I guess I have my answer now.” He chuckled, his tongue tracing the shape of her ear. Oh gods, oh rutting gods.

“Rowan.”

“What is it, baby, you gonna come for me?” He asked and she didn’t trust her voice so she only nodded. “Oh good girl, come on me. Soak my pants, Aelin.”

She had no sense of self as she kept rubbing herself, not aware of anything else than her pleasure. When Rowan bit at her neck, murmuring words of encouragement on her skin, something snapped in her. Thankfully he had fast reflexes, his hand slapping over her mouth, blocking out as much sound as possible. “Good girl,” Rowan praised her as he made her keep moving on him, prolonging her orgasm. “You look so fucking good.”

Both of them chuckled lightly as Aelin came down from her high, both their head resting on each other’s shoulders while they rubbed the other’s back.

“Is that gonna be enough for you, your highness?” He asked.

She made a humming sound. “I don’t know.”

He laughed, kissing her neck. “You’re insatiable.”

He kissed her cheek and made her stand, replacing her dress exactly the way it was. “We have to come out, I have to charm some sponsors before the party ends.” He informed her before leaning into her, his hot breath tickling her skin. “But I can’t wait for you to be sober tomorrow morning, just so I can fuck you and finally find out what this cunt feels like coming around me.”

He winked at her before getting out of the room as if nothing had happened. She hated him so much.

——————

taglist: @sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @themoonthestarsthesuriel // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @hellasblessed // @danibutterr // @endlessdaydream // @thegreyj // @gracie-rosee // @acreativelydifferentlove

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin smut #kinktober

[lillywillow]

For Heart or For Country

Summary: “You’re in line to be the next ruler of your kingdom. But first, you must marry the young ruler of your worst enemy. Would you risk all of your happiness for the sake of stopping a war? Or will you find true love in the town’s pub?”

 Word Count: 3089

 Pairings: Natasha x gender neutral Reader/ gender neutral Loki X Reader (arranged)

 Warnings: Seductive Nat, arranged marriage

Written for @caplanbuckybarnes ‘s writing challenge. Go check out her amazing works!

From the moment you were born, you were destined to take over from your father. You spent countless hours in lessons learning how to be ruler of the kingdom, been taught everything from politics to art, sword fighting to etiquette. Long story short, everything you needed to take the throne and face the challenges that came with wearing the crown.

 For years, the kingdom had been at war but recently there was at last a chance for peace but it came with a cost... an arranged marriage. You weren’t so sure about it but if it meant your people being safe, you would sacrifice your own happiness.

 Ever since your father had made the announcement of your impending wedding, it had consumed your every thought. You hadn’t even met your betrothed and, yet, you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with them. You had watched the older servants with their spouses and to be honest with yourself it melted your heart. Even your father was a kind and gentle person when it came to your mother. With any luck, the person you were going to marry would be kind to you.

 Deciding you needed a distraction; you put on a disguise and managed to sneak out of the palace. Sure you could have gotten drunk in your room but where was the fun in that? You had crept out on a few occasions so you knew that the townsfolk knew how to party compared to those stuffy nobles.

From the moment you stepped inside the tavern named The Nest, the atmosphere was abuzz with excitement. The walls were decorated with purple fabric hangings, crossbows, longbows, arrows and other archery items. A taxidermy hawk was perched above the door, its eyes ever watching. A one eyed dog ran about the patrons, getting pats from some of them and cleaning up pieces of dropped food. People were dancing, singing and drinking, some leaning on each other for support as they swayed. To any other noble, the scene may have looked chaotic but to you, it only looked like fun.

 With a grin, you made your way over to the bar and took a seat. Still taking in your surroundings, you barely noticed when the sandy haired bartender stood in front of you.

 “What can I get you?”

 “Oh! Um...” You tried to think of something that would not give away your identity as a noble. The man raised an eyebrow at you.

 “Hey, Clint! Two boilermakers over here,” another patron called.

 The man whom you now know as Clint poured them the drinks and turned back to you.

 “So?”

 “I’ll have... o-one of those,” you said, making a feeble attempt to pound your fist on the counter in an attempt to fit in.

 Clint tilted his head and gave you a curious look.

 “Alright...”

 Clint made the boilermaker and placed it in front of you. Thanking him, you took a swig of the drink and felt instant misgivings about it as the alcohol burned not only your throat but your ears and the very pit of your stomach. Clint laughed as you coughed and spluttered.

 “You’re not from around here, are you?”

 “You... might say that,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth.

 “You picked the right night to come. Nat’s doing a show.”

 “Nat?”

 “Wow, you really aren’t from around here if you don’t know Natasha. Just watch,” he advised, nodding his head over to the stage.

 The stage was well lit and crowed around the edges by men and women who were eagerly waiting for whoever was about to appear from behind the purple curtains.

 Music began and a foot decorated with a silver anklet emerged. The audience cheered loudly as the woman behind her curtain slowly began to reveal herself. She wore a black piece of fabric around her upper body, twisted just a little in the centre of her chest. The bottom of her costume was made up of a red fabric front and back which started out solid but faded to transparent as it went down and held together by delicate chains. Silver cuffs adorned her upper arms and wrists. Her lips were painted sinfully crimson. Sparkly onyx hairpins held her red curls in place. She was absolutely stunning.

 The woman slowly began to sway her hips to the music, arms and feet poised. It was almost hypnotic in the way she moved. As the beat picked up, so did her dancing. One of the men near the front of the stage started to get a little carried away and tried to climb up.

 Fearing for the safety of the dancer, you tensed and shifted to help her but Clint placed a hand on your shoulder.

 “Easy. Nat can handle herself around these drunk idiots.”

 You watched as Nat placed her foot on the man’s cheek before kicking him off the stage. The crowd jeered and laughed at the man, some pouring their drinks on him. Despite the interruption, Nat continued her performance.

 Her face was calm and collected, never faltering, as the audience got more and more rowdy.

 Nat ended her performance by kneeling and giving a graceful bow. The throng of people got even more riled up as she headed back behind the curtain and before you knew it, a fight broke out. You could only sit on your barstool and laugh as the place erupted into bedlam. As a noble, the most you had ever witnessed people scuffle as a heated argument that never went beyond words and even then they never used the language you heard flying around the room. Sure, there was the battlefield but once again that was an entirely different situation.

 However, your humour was soon cut short as the royal guards walked in to break up the fight. You felt your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach.

 “You hiding from those guys?” Clint asked, not even fazed by the mayhem around him.

 “S-sorta...”

 Clint jumped over the bar and prompted you to follow him. You weren’t entirely sure what made you decide to trust a total stranger nonetheless, you followed his lead. As he walked along, he dodged all fists, tankards and bottles that flew his way. You did your best but still caught the occasional projectile to your body, taking great care not to let any hit your face lest there be questions tomorrow.

 He stopped to look around before opening a panel in the back wall, just big enough for you to squeeze out.

 “Follow the tunnel until the end. That’ll take you to the backstreets. Be fast. The guards will start patrolling the minute they break things up here. Just make sure you close the exit on the other side.” With that, Clint pushed you through the gap and closed the panel behind you.

 Just as he said, you followed the tunnel until the end, closing the door behind you and made your way through the backstreets until you had made it all the way home, fortunately without incident.

 As you got ready for bed that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about Nat. She was just so beautiful... Could this be just a crush? You had to know for certain.

...

 The following night, you once again crept out of the palace and back to The Nest and sat at the bar. The place was busy but nowhere near as packed as it was last night.

 “I see the guards failed to catch you,” Clint commented, making his way over to you.

 “Yeah... um... is Nat dancing again tonight by any chance?”

 Clint gave you a sly look.

 “She’s not dancing but she is working. Hey, Nat!”

 Your heart began to race as the red head walked over to you. Tonight she was wearing a black, off-the-shoulder dress with a red belt around her waist. Even outside of her dancing costume she was beautiful.

 “What?”

 “This is the one I was telling you about.”

 You felt panic seize in your chest. They were talking about you? What in the world could they have possibly been saying? Nat looked you up and down, carefully examining you before glancing over at Clint who gave an approving nod.

 “Let’s dance...”

 Before you could protest, Nat grabbed your hand and dragged you onto the dance floor. It was no surprise to you that she was just as graceful on her feet as she had been on stage. As you danced with her, you could feel her brushing her hands over your hips and waist. You found yourself surrendering to her touch. At the end of the song, Nat wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pressed her lips to your ear.

 “Tell me... what is a noble doing in a place like this?”

 You completely froze.

 “Wh-what makes you think...?”

 “Everything. From the way you dance, to your posture and your speech. So, answer my question.”

 “Is... is there somewhere private we can talk?”

 Nat lead you to the backroom after checking the coast was clear.

 “Now talk...”

 With a sigh, you removed your hood, showing her your face.

 “The heir to the throne,” she whispered reverently.

 You put your hood back on and looked down.

 “You should get out of here. Folks in these parts don’t take kindly to nobles, especially members of the royal family. What are you doing here anyway?”

 “I... I wanted to experience as much freedom as I could before I get married...”

 “So one last fling before finally settling down. How sweet.” Her voice positively dripped venom as she spoke.

 “It’s not like that!”

 “Then tell me what it is like...”

 With a sigh, you looked out the tiny window on the back wall that let in a sliver of moonlight.

 “Ever since I was young, I dreamed of having a perfect wedding with the perfect person I would spend the rest of my life with... but with this war, I’m to marry one of the children of the opposing kingdom as a token of peace... I don’t know what kind of person they are. If they’re good, maybe we could work together to fix some of the broken parts of the city and of course, I would help in their kingdom too but if they’re not a good person, well...”

 Nat was quiet for a few moments before finally speaking.

 “I really hate it when Clint is right,” she sighed.

 You turned to look at her.

 “Clint?”

 “You see, Clint has this innate sense of finding the good in people and helping them out. He helped me a few years back...”

 You held her hand, encouraging her to continue.

 “I was in a really bad place... did some really bad things... Clint helped me get out of it. Got me a job, a home... even made me partner. I owe a lot to him...”

 You couldn’t help but feel a small pang of jealousy for the man even though you knew it was completely irrational.

 “So you and he are...?”

 Nat shook her head.

 “We tried it once but it didn’t work out. We’re better off as friends.”

 You couldn’t help but feel a tiny sense of relief.

 “I would like to get to know you better... for however I have until my impending marriage. That is if you’ll let me.”

 “What about after?”

 “I’ll try and see you if I can... and if not; you can be my one who got away.”

 “That was... really cheesy,” she laughed.

 “I guess it was... but what do you say?”

 “On one condition; don’t make any promises you can’t or don’t intend to keep. I’ve been through enough of that in my lifetime.”

 “It’s a deal.”

...

 Over the next few weeks, you got to know Nat quite well. You knew everything about her and she knew everything about you and not just as future sovereign but as a person. Eventually the time came when the feuding royal family came to your kingdom, bringing with them your spouse to be.

 They introduced you to the youngest member of the family named Loki. Loki was about your age and attractive enough but in the short time you spent with Natasha, your heart purely belonged to her. Your respective fathers left you alone to bond, catching daggers in their backs from the glares from both you and Loki as they left.

 “They certainly can be civil when they want to be,” Loki sneered.

 “You got that right...”

 “You don’t really want to be married to me do you?”

 You thought carefully about how to answer.

 “I don’t even know you... but how else can we stop this war?”

 “I have been doing research on my end. If we can pool our resources, perhaps we can find how it began and how we can stop it. Shall we?”

 Loki offered a slender hand which you took.

 “We shall.”

...

 In the time leading up to your wedding, you and Loki spent every minute of the day together. To anyone else, it looked like a couple bonding and getting to know each other before your upcoming nuptials. To you and Loki, it was a mission; one to find out the truth and put an end to the war.

 Your nights were spent with Nat, talking about Loki and what else you could do to stop the fighting. There was one night you had crept in after seeing Nat and Loki had caught you and you thought for sure you were done for but instead, Loki covered for you. Loki was fully supportive of your relationship with Natasha and encouraged you to pursue her once this whole thing had blown over.

 Eventually it came time when your wedding was fast approaching. The night before the big event, you were of course with Natasha, wanting to spend as long as you could with each other before whatever happened tomorrow.

 “I promise you Nat, we will be together...”

 Nat teared up and shook her head.

 “Remember the deal you made, Y/N. You said you wouldn’t make promises you couldn’t keep...”

 “But I intend to keep this one...”

 “Just go!”

 Nat turned away so you couldn’t see her cry. You gently turned her back to you and kissed her softly. She kissed back, holding you tight as if she didn’t want to let you go. Eventually you had to break for air.

 “If... if this really is our last night together... then let’s make a memory that will last a lifetime...”

 With that, you kissed her again, this time with all the love and passion you could muster. It may have seemed scandalous to spend the night before your wedding with another but you wouldn’t give Nat away for the world.

...

 The following morning, you and Loki had set your plan into motion. The wedding started out like any other with guests arriving and people all taking their places. Your heart was hammering against your ribs and blood roared in your ears as the ceremony began. Loki remained calm and collected, keeping cool until the right moment.

 “If anyone has any objections as to why these two should not wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

 “We object,” both you and Loki said in unison. The whole room erupted into shock. Instantly, both Odin and your father rounded on the pair of you, absolutely seething.

 “Silence!” Loki snarled. The room fell quiet.

 “Now, the whole point of this wedding was to stop this ridiculous war. A war that was started over a futile reason...”

 Both you and Loki went to where you had hidden two ancient artefacts; one from your history and one from Asgard’s.

 “Many years ago, our kingdom was accused of taking this,” you said, holding the item up high.

 “But they were wrong. We had our own the whole time,” Loki stated, holding up the other.

 “Our two kingdoms went to war when they should have been joining forces as we were once centuries ago...”

 The pair of you combined the two items to show they fitted perfectly together.

 “We should be united once more. Let us put a stop to the fighting once and for all!”

 The gathering all cheered and rejoiced at the prospect of peace. Your fathers sat there sullenly while their wives attempted to gently comfort them. Loki gently turned to you.

 “Isn’t there someone you want to see?”

 With Loki’s blessing, you ran out of the church.

...

 Nat had been drowning her sorrows at The Nest. She had known this day was long coming but it didn’t stop the ache she felt in her heart from losing you to another. Clint did his best to try and comfort her but it wasn’t enough. She didn’t even look up when her name was called but eventually Clint did catch her attention.

 “What?!” she hissed. Clint pointed behind her to where you were standing still in your wedding clothes.

 “Y/N? What are you-” You cut her off with a kiss.

 “Loki and I did it. We were able to restore peace and we didn’t even have to get married. We can be together now...”

 “But I’m just a common barmaid. You’re going to take over the throne...”

 “And when I do, I can make whatever rule I want and marry whoever I want. I want to marry you one day Natasha... that is if you’ll have me...”

 “I...” Nat looked over to Clint who smiled and nodded. “Yes...”

...

 Over the next few weeks, you worked in tandem with Nat to fix the rough parts of the city, just as you had told her. There was a lot of gossip surrounding your relationship but neither of you cared. You had also made a point to stay in touch with Loki to find out how things were going in Asgard.

 After so many years of war, it was nice to finally see some happiness. Maybe in time, there would be a royal wedding after all. A real one out of love that was formed between two hearts that truly cared for one another.

#cappysforeverchallenge #natasha romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x Reader #loki of asgard #loki x gender neutral reader #arranged marriage fic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel one shot #ROYAL AU #royal marriage #gender neutral reader #war and peace #true love

[xiaomoxu]

Lucien - Tea Garden Date

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

A date from CN server which hasn’t been released on EN server yet. Might contains some spoiler.

Translations under the cut~

Bus driver: Here it is! This is the tea garden.

MC: Okay, thank you Sir!

I took Lucien and walked towards the bus door happily.

A few days ago, the plan for an exhibition hosted by our company was formally submitted for review.

Since the partner is the Loveland City Art Museum, the planning has attracted attention since the preparation period. I also paid special attention to it. I also asked Lucien to act as an event consultant.

While I was anxiously waiting for the result, Lucien suggested to go to a tea garden in the suburbs.

Now it is the tea picking season. In addition to tasting and watching tea, we can also experience tea picking together.

So on the way here, I always keep looking forward to it. Until the moment I got off the bus-

MC: ...Why is it raining all of sudden?

Feeling the slight coolness falling on my forehead, I said with some disappointment.

Lucien: Fortunately, we are "prepared."

The voice fell, and a transparent umbrella stretched out over my head.

Lucien lifted the corners of his lips, and his dark eyes seemed to see what I was thinking.

Lucien: Although it is not possible to pick tea on rainy days, the rain is not heavy now, and it may stop in a while.

Lucien: Moreover, even if we just sit in the tea room and sip tea, it's not bad.

He took the coat I took off from my hand and pulled me on the muddy path.

Lucien: Although the area of ​​this tea garden is small, the climate and environment are very conducive to the growth of tea trees.

Lucien: Coupled with manual cultivation and selection, the quality of tea is also guaranteed.

Lucien: When I came here to taste tea before, I thought I would take you to taste it sometime.

He turned his face and chuckled at me.

Lucien: Today I finally have a chance.

As if there was a soft warm wind, it gently brushed away the faint loss of my heart.

MC: Now that Professor Lucien is so passionately recommending it, I am even more looking forward to the tea here!

We walked some distance further. Soon, a green tea garden appeared in front of you.

A middle-aged man greeted him enthusiastically. Lucien whispered to me, introduced that he is the owner of this tea garden.

Owner: It's a pity that the weather today is not so good. It depends on whether the rain can stop in a while before we can take you up the mountain.

Lucien: It doesn't matter, you can just sit down and rest first.

The owner of the tea garden nodded and led us to a hill.

Owner: Last time I troubled Professor Lucien to help us develop a new product. This is a new tea that has just been put on the market. You can take it back to taste it.

Lucien took me in one hand, hesitated, and took the tea garden gift that the staff handed us.

Lucien: You are too kind.

I glanced curiously, and saw a line of propaganda written on the bag with the tea garden pattern---

"All the good things you expect will come on schedule."

Under the guide of the owner of the tea garden, we came to a tea room located on the mountain.

Owner: We just made a new batch of tea a few days ago, very fresh

Owner: Does Miss MC also like to drink tea?

Facing the question from the owner, I smiled and nodded, intersecting Lucien's eyesㅡ

MC: I'll have the white tea.

Owner: It seems that you have the same preferences as Professor Lucien.

The owner of the tea garden smiled, and after a few casual conversations with us, he left the room.

So I looked at this antique tea room curiously.

A faint coolness came through the half-covered window, and I subconsciously touched my arm. Soon, a coat was draped over my shoulder.

Lucien: The temperature on the mountain is low, so be careful not to catch a cold.

After speaking, Lucien followed my line of sight and looked out of the arch.

Lucien: What are you looking at?

MC: I'm looking at the writing on the wall

MC: "Only the beginning, the foam sinks, glows like snow, and bright like a spring..."

MC: I remember, this seems to be a verse describing tea?

I turned my head to look at Lucien, and he nodded lightly.

Lucien: Um. This means that when the tea leaves are just brewed, the bottom of the tea leaves sinks, and the flowers float up.

Lucien: Bright and vivid, like dazzling snow. Gorgeous and splendid like a thriving spring flower.

In Lucien's eloquent words, the beautiful picture depicted in the poem could not help appearing before my eyes.

MC: .... After listening to your explanation, you can smell the aroma of tea~

Lucien smiled and rubbed my hair.

Just as I was more looking forward to the tea I was going to drink next, suddenly, there was a vibration from the phone in my pocket.

My heart jumped, I smiled apologetically at Lucien, then took out my phone and opened the communication software.

Lucien: What happened?

Lucien raised his eyebrows and looked at me.

Since the planning case was submitted for review, I have always paid attention to the messages on the mobile phone, and quickly checked it whenever there was any trouble, hoping to receive the message of approval as soon as possible.

However, at this moment, I crossed out the spam, looked at the interface where no new messages popped up, and shook my head.

MC: .... Nothing.

Depressing the disappointment in my heart, I put the phone back in my pocket.

I didn't want the trivialities of work to intrude on our vacation, so I started another topic nonchalantly.

MC: Lucien, did you come here often before?

MC: Listening to the owner talking to you, looks like he is very familiar with you.

Lucien looked at me for a while, but didn't ask any more questions.

Lucien: It can be said.

Lucien: Whenever I feel a little stressed, I come over to relax and have a cup of tea.

Lucien: Sometimes I would chat with him for a while, so I got acquainted with each other unknowingly.

Lucien: For me, this is a place where you can relax and relieve anxiety.

He looked at me, his clear eyes seemed to have insight into all the thoughts in my heart.

Lucien: I don’t know if you will feel the same as me after you experience it today.

A warm feeling slowly spread in my heart. Looking at the soft smile on Lucien's lips, I seemed to understand his intention for bringing me to the tea garden today.

There was a knock on the door, and I saw it, a waiter was holding a tray in his handㅡ

Lucien moved his gaze behind me, and a narrow light flashed in his eyes.

Lucien: It seems that this time, it should not be the tea fragrance you imagined.

The drenching rain fell on the two azure tea cups, like a mist shrouded in the tea branches.

After savoring the sweet tea, I let out a sigh of satisfaction.

I gently flicked the tea leaves on the water with the lid of the cup, and winked at Lucien playfully.

MC: In fact, I also liked tea when I was young.

Lucien: Really?

MC: Really!

I nodded affirmatively.

MC: Because I can have delicious refreshments~

MC: Especially the crab soup, jade siu mai, and sweet-scented osmanthus cake...the taste is amazing!

Lucien was a little helpless, but the corners of his mouth curled up unconsciously.

MC: But...I really rarely sit down like this, tasted a cup of tea quietly.

I looked at the tea in my hand that had been drunk for most of the time, and gently rubbed the edge of the tea cup with my fingertips.

MC: It's just....

MC: The mood did gradually calm down.

I said thoughtfully, but a slender hand suddenly broke into my sight and covered the back of my hand.

Lucien: Would you like to have another drink?

I raised my eyes and met Lucien's eyes in the warm air.

Under his gentle gaze, I answered without hesitation

MC: Certainly!

He smiled softly and scraped off the tip of my nose affectionately.

Lucien: I will pour tea for you.

Lucien picked up the teapot skillfully, pressing the lid with his other well-knotted hand, with a gentle and focused expression.

I was involuntarily attracted by his graceful movements, when he suddenly spokeㅡ

Lucien: I think the reason why I feel calmer may also be related to the special drink like tea.

In the scent of tea overflowing, he followed what I had just interrupted, and his voice seemed to be soaked with warmth.

MC: What's that means?

Lucien smiled, and then said.

Lucien: In fact, it is not easy to make a cup of tea.

Lucien: Pick, drying, knead, filter.

Lucien: A piece of tea can come to us after going through all the journey.

Lucien raised his eyes to look at me, and his beautiful eyebrows were covered by the rising white mist.

He gently put down the teapot, held up the tea cup, and blew lightly.

Lucien: In order for it to meet you, the tea maker has been working silently.

Lucien: After all the efforts have been made, the answer is actually here.

His voice was calm and soft, as if he was talking about tea or something else.

I heard what he meant, and I couldn't help lowering my eyes, looking at the tea leaves floating on the water, thinking of the moments I experienced when I was planning an exhibition these daysㅡ

Perhaps in a way, just like a tea maker, I can only let the results of my efforts meet with others after facing layers of tests...

Lucien: It's not hot anymore. Have a taste?

Lucien interrupted my thoughts aloud and put the tea cup in front of me.

My heart moved slightly. I held up the teacup, bowed my head and took a sip.

The faint sweetness whirled in the mouth and rushed into the nasal cavity, and after a while, I felt sweet again and it was intoxicating.

I couldn't help showing a smile to Lucien, and sighed sincerelyㅡ

MC: It's delicious.

He chuckled and took a sip. At this moment, the sunlight penetrated the clouds and slanted into the room.

Lucien narrowed his eyes slightly. Soon, he seemed to have thought of something.

Lucien: MC.

He whispered my name, and a smile broke out on his lips.

Lucien: The rain seems to have stopped.

After tasting the tea, walking along the sunny mountain road, Lucien and I came to the tea garden we first saw.

Seeing the tea farmers skillfully pluck the buds from the tea trees, I was a little eager to try.

Tea Farmer A: Are you here to pick tea? It just so happens that we still have a bamboo basket left.

A tea farmer noticed us and enthusiastically handed us the bamboo basket at hand.

Tea Farmer B: Young couples can use the bamboo basket!

Another tea farmer joked loudly, and then there was a brisk laugh, and my cheeks became hot.

Lucien accepted the bamboo basket graciously and nodded in agreement.

Lucien: Thanks a lot.

Lucien and I went to a less crowded area and picked tea. Looking at the lush greenery of the garden, I turned my head curiously to look at Lucien.

MC: Lucien, is the tea tree evergreen in all seasons?

MC: I remember seeing it on the Internet before. Although there are varieties of tea trees with different colors, most of them are green.

Lucien: Well, it is true.

Lucien: This is why the ancients would use the tea tree as a metaphor for love, thinking that its evergreen has the meaning of "consistency".

Lucien: They regard tea as a kind of mascot, and there is a saying that "hiring tea".

MC: It turned out to be like this …

MC: I learned a little more with Professor Lucien~

I smiled at him, took a piece of tea, put it on the tip of my nose, and sniffed it lightly.

MC: There seems to be a fragrance.....

MC: Do you smell it?

I stretched the tea leaves in front of Lucien, the light and shadow in his eyes flickered, then grabbed my hand and bowed his head.

The warm nose rubbed my fingers, and the distance was suddenly pulled closer, so that I could even see Lucien's distinct eyelashes.

I looked at his good-looking side face, accidentally fell in love.

But Lucien didn't notice my thoughts. He just sniffed the tea leaves in my hand earnestly, and nodded for a long while.

Lucien: There is indeed a faint fragrance.

He said solemnly, my mind moved slightly, and I suddenly wanted to tease him.

I reached out and picked two tea leaves from the tea tree on the side and stuffed them into Lucien's hand.

MC: So...Is it considered that Professor Lucien accepted my tea?

Lucien was surprised for a moment. It seemed that he had also thought of the topic of "hiring tea" just now.

I couldn't help laughing in my heart. But soon, he recovered his usual calmness.

Lucien: I guess. But....

Lucien glanced at the tea leaves in the bamboo basket, and raised his eyebrows carefully.

Lucien: I remember that there seemed to be tea leaves I picked.

MC: Well, that's count....

Lucien: Huh? What?

A sly light flashed under Lucien's eyes, and he moved closer to me.

Seeing his face come closer to me all of sudden, I could only suppress the accelerated heartbeat and pat his arm gently.

MC: .... Let's hurry up and pick the tea!

A low laugh sounded from him.

Just as the heat continued to climb up my cheeks, I caught a glimpse of a tea tree standing beside a sign with a familiar slogan on itㅡ

MC: "All the good things you expect will arrive as scheduled..."

I paused thoughtfully. Lucien tilted his head and looked at me

Lucien: Did you think of something?

MC: Hm, I'm thinking...

MC: Sometimes, you really need some patience if you want to get some good results.

Under the warm light, Lucien's brows and eyes appear softer

I looked at the person in front of me, and suddenly wanted to tell him the emotions that had been suppressed in my heart.

MC: Lucien, I want tell you a secret. In fact, I have been feeling anxious and nervous about planning the case for trial recently.

MC: I don’t know if it can pass the trial, and I am worried about this time. Whether the event can meet everyone's expectations...

I said lightly, feeling a lot more relaxed in my heart at this moment.

MC: But I overlooked it. I have done all I can do. This is enough.

MC: Just like you said when we were tasting tea--

MC: "After all the efforts have been made, the answer is actually already there."

I gave Lucien a brisk smile. He seemed to want to say something, but in the end he squeezed the tip of my nose with a chuckle.

Lucien: Silly.

Lucien: In that case, then I also share with you a little secret.

Lucien dropped his hand and gently held my palm.

Lucien: During this time, I have been by your side and saw everything you have given.

Lucien: Therefore, I believe that your efforts will definitely be rewarded.

Lucien: I believe in you.

Lucien's eyes are shining, with the strongest trust and determination in them, like the brightest light in summer.

The last trace of anxiety in my heart was also dispelled. I looked at the clear smile on his face and suddenly blinked.

MC: Speaking of it, I am sure that there is one thing that can pass the audit smoothly.

Lucien: Huh? What is it?

MC: Because you are my consultant~ This is the result of our joint efforts.

MC: With you, I always believe that no matter what we do, we will create an "answer" that far exceeds our expectations.

I looked at Lucien and said firmly.

He was taken aback, and then smiled slightly.

Lucien: Well, it will definitely be.

The golden sunlight poured gently on me and Lucien through the gaps between the leaves.

And I also know that a good result must be waiting for us ahead.

-- END --

Notes from me: This is so beautiful and sweet like the tea fragrance, how sweet of him, looking after mc, standing by her side, believing her. Much love for them and AGAIN the writing team! BUNCH OF THANKS~ 

#mlqc #mlqc lucien #lucien date #mlqc date #mlqc translation #mr love lucien #LUCIEN

[bookstantrash]

A/N: I am sorry for taking so much to post this chapter. I was suffering from a severe writer’s block and uni is driving me crazy.

You can check here Pemberley’s Lake and Hooked on You, part one and part two of my Nessian Pride and Prejudice AU.

Shout out to @arinbelle for having requested THE rain scene present in the 2005 version. I had to change a few things to fit it in this fic, but I hope you like it nonetheless!!

Smells like petrichor and paper

“This is not what I was expecting”

Cassian dropped the pressed daisy chain he was holding, looking up to see none other than his brother, Azriel.

“Mother’s tits, brother! You gave me a fright! What are you doing here?” Cassian inquired, finding it strange to see the Chief of the Royal Intelligence at Pemberley when he had promptly disposed of him not three days ago.

“Good to see you too brother” Azriel snorted, sitting in front of him “ I thought you had left all your work at the office”

Cassian glanced at the piles of paper on his table. He was currently in his study, a place he usually avoided when he was at Pemberley unless he had any remaining work from his office to do. No wonder Azriel was surprised to see him there.

“This is not work” he said, arranging the papers and putting them in the drawer, along with the daisy chain.

Cassian did not want Azriel inquiring after the delicate object. Not after his brother had seen how affected by Nesta he was. Azriel would probably tease him about having pressed the daisy chain and made a bookmark out of it, pity on his eyes.

“For what do I owe the pleasure of having your delightful presence here?” he inquired.

“Good to see you missed me” Azriel said “Me and Georgie thought it would be better to come and see if you were alive.”

“Georgiana is here?”

Cassian had not seen his younger sister in a while now. He missed his dear sister deeply.

“She said she would look at your horses and decide which she would take for herself after you were declared dead” his brother smirked “She will be quite sad to know you are alive”

He took back his words.

He did not miss the wild brat at all.

“Let’s wait for that devil at the parlor. I have some guests that are due to arrive any minute now”

“Guests?” Azriel asked in surprise as they left Cassian’s study “I came here expecting to find you wallowing in self-pity but instead you are expecting guests? Do enlighten me brother”

“Lady Nesta and her friends are coming” Cassian mumbled, passing by Lumière — his kind hearted but rebellious maître d' who likes to annoy Cogsworth — requesting him to warn Mrs.Potts to bring the refreshments earlier, given Azriel and Georgiana’s unexpected visit.

“What was that again?” Azriel stumbled over a chair, his head snapping so fast in Cassian’s direction that he swore he had heard a cracking sound.

“Lady Nesta Archeron and some friends of hers are coming today” Cassian answered, sitting down and hoping his sister’s inquiries would not be as bothersome as Azriel’s.

“You invited her all the way to Pemberley?”

“Cauldron no! I arrived at Pemberley and they were visiting the state” Cassian laughed in disbelief  “She did not even know I was the owner. They came yesterday  and we went fishing on the property.”

“And she is coming back again?” his brother raised an eyebrow in question.

“I am showing them the rest of the state, nothing more” Cassian was glad Azriel had not read the papers on his desk, least his brother see the bullet list he had written down, which consisted of places he planned to show Nesta and her friends, not to say the rest of his planning for the day.

He had to make Azriel believe he was completely over Nesta Archeron.

Nevermind that could not be the furthest from the truth.

Nevermind he was so enamoured with her he had pressed the daisy chain she had given him and turned it into a bookmark.

Cassian did not know if he would ever get anything from Nesta again.

So he was going to treasure what she was willing to give him now. Even if it was not enough.

Even if his heart yearned for more with each passing moment he spent in her presence.

“You wear your heart for all to see, brother” Azriel said, a knowing look on his face “I just worry you end up hurt because of it.”

“Good thing you will be here to put it back together, right?” Cassian gave him a sly grin, wanting to not worry his brother with his hopeless love life.

They were interrupted by the door opening and Mrs.Potts arriving with tea and pastries, Georgiana right behind the head maid.

“Oh, you are alive” his fifteen yeard old sister declared, a sad look on her face that made Cassian almost believe her, were it not for the small dimple on the corner of her mouth, which always appeared when she was trying not to smile.

Georgiana had always been a good actress, Rhysand having jokingly said on more than one occasion she should join the theater were she not to marry.

“That is how you greet your favourite brother?” Cassian said, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“Currently, Azriel is my favourite brother” Georgiana announced, sitting on the couch beside him, her pale pink dress fanning around her “He bought me a strawberry cake yesterday”

“But I have some double dipped chocolate cookies right here” Cassian thanked Mrs.Potts, who gave Georgiana a plate with them, winking at his sister before leaving the room.

“Sorry Zizi, Cassian is my favourite now” she said, taking a huge bite of one cookie.

Cassian laughed at that, Azriel smiling at the nickname. Georgiana could not say his name when she was younger, sticking with Zizi until she was ten years old.

He could not help but feel a little sad to see his baby sister all grown up. Soon she would be entering society and start being courted. Not that either him or his brothers would give her hand for just anybody, and Georgie was free to choose to not marry at all. She had that privilege being the sister of a duke and the two of the highest ranking people at the Queen’s service. No one would dare and say a thing were Georgie to be a spinster or really join a theater company.

“My Lord,” Cogsworth interrupted his wandering thoughts, entering the parlor “Your guests have arrived.”

“And the ladies look very pretty” Lumière teased, earning an elbow on the ribs by Cogsworth.

Cassian for once did not laugh at their usual bickering, having sat straighter and looking at the door, holding his breath.

The ladies were indeed very pretty, courtesy of Emerie of course. Although today she had chosen to wear a dress, it was once again unique. With long see through sleeves, pearls and light turquoise flowers on the bodice of a dress in the same colour — a matching long scarf taking the attention off the gown’s deep neckline — and a big transparent hat with the same palette of colour on her head, Cassian could not blame Georgiana’s wide eyed look at Emerie, who was for sure nothing like any other lady his sister had ever seen.

Gwyn wore a gown with the same off shoulder design as last time, but with short sleeves and three quarters lace gloves. Her hair was once again free and held back only by a merigold ribbon, the same colour as her dress. Cassian wondered if she had a matching dress for each ribbon she wore, and how she could possibly have so many ribbons.

But as soon as Nesta came into view, Cassian forgot all about ribbons and the others present in the parlor. He could not understand how she looked more beautiful each time he saw her, and they had parted for less than a day. She wore a tawny gown with sleeves that reached her elbows and that had ruffles at their end, the rest of her arm bare.

Nesta Archeron wore no gloves.

That fact alone had Cassian’s heart beating harder.

“Brother, will you introduce us to your guests?” Georgiana said, a spark of mischief in her eyes.

“Of course, right away” clearing his throat and standing up, Cassian introduced the party of five, his sister clapping her hands and exclaiming in delight when she heard Gwyn’s name.

“Oh! I cannot believe I am meeting the prima donna of the year! It is an honour”

“Thank you” Gwyn blushed, still not used to all the attention.

“My brother Azriel is a big fan of your singing” Georgiana said with a sly smile, the only one who had noticed that her usually quiet brother had a ribbon of the same exact colour as the one in the singer’s hair tied around his black hat “He has been to nearly all of your shows if I reckon correctly.”

“I– You– I mean” Azriel stuttering was something so out of the ordinary that Cassian had to bite his knuckles to avoid laughing out loud.

“I am but a simple appreciator of the fine arts” Azriel said, avoiding Gwyn’s eyes.

“It pleases me to know someone so important has time to appreciate my music” the opera singer replied, her blush deeping.

“Please, have a seat” Cassian managed to say, still holding his laughter “My staff prepared some refreshments.”

They all obliged, Nesta sitting directly in front of him.

“I am tempted to steal your staff, sir” Emerie declared, her eyes shining when she spotted the strawberry tart.

“I will have to agree with Emerie this time” Balthazar said between bites of a ham sandwich “Your hospitality and service is the best I have seen”

Cassian’ staff had once again outdid themselves. He did not know how, but they had managed to assemble all of his guests favourite foods and drinks. Were they secretly part of his brother’s web of spies?

“I will pass the message to them. They will be very happy to hear that.” he said, going out of his way to pour Nesta a cup of peppermint tea.

“Thank you, your grace” she said, taking the cup from him, their fingers brushing.

Cassian thanked the Mother that Nesta did not wear gloves today. Little did he know it was all part of Emerie’s plan to get them together.

“So Lady Nesta is the reason you were mopping?” Georgiana asks him, hiding her smile behind her cup of tea.

“I beg your pardon” Cassian blurted out, glancing at the lady in question to make sure she had not heard the comment.

“You and Lady Nesta. Azriel and Miss Berdara” she threw a knowing glance at her other brother “Am I on the way to gaining two sisters?”

That last comment had both gentlemen spitting their drinks out.

“Careful brothers, the tea is quite hot” Georgiana said, gently blowing her own drink.

Cassian exchanged an exasperated glance with Azriel, imagining just how much more embarrassing situations his sister would put them through.

Thankfully, the rest of their tea time went uninterrupted. Cassian was really anxious to show them the rest of his home, apart from what was usually open to the public.

“Would you like to start the tour? It is a once in a lifetime chance to know all the secrets Pemberley has”

“Oh, do you have any secret passages? I always wondered if what they wrote in the books was true or just make believe” Gwyn said with an almost childlike gleam in her eyes.

“Only one way to know” Cassian answered, winking.

“Brother, may I show Mr. Oristian and Madame Emerie our stables?” Georgiana asked, and he could not help but wonder what she was planning “I take he will appreciate your fine breed horses, and I would like to request Madame Emerie to design me new riding clothes”

“I see no reason to object, as long as our guests agree with the decision” he replied.

“Glance at the General’s famous horses? Count me in” Balthazar said, having heard how special the General Commander’s horses were.

“What an amazing idea young lady! You’re very lucky I never go out without my sketch journal!” Emerie exclaimed in delight, having caught up on Georgiana’s plan “I shall make the most memorable clothes ever!”

“My brothers will be happy to pay any price for them, will you not dear brothers?” the young lady blinked innocently.

“Anything for you Georgie” Azriel said, already planning to send the bill to Rhsyand.

They promptly went their separate ways, Georgiana leading Balthazar and Emerie towards the stables, taking Emerie’s arms on hers like life long friends, conspiratory smiles in both their faces.

~•~

First stop, the library.

Cassian knew it was a common visiting spot, but it was shown briefly so the visitors would have time to do a tour of the whole state.

“Are the ladies prepared?” Cassian asked with suspense, his hand hovering on the doorknob.

Nesta and Gwyn nodded, and he opened the door with a flourish.

“I present you, Pemberley’s library”

The library in Pemberley had already been famous when Cassian acquired the state. Apparently, the previous owner had been so in love with his wife — which had a frail health and could not go out for too long — that he had built it for her as a gift. The lord sold the state after his wife passed away, the only request that the library was kept as it was. Cassian was secretly a romantic at heart, and had not only taken great care of the space since becoming its new owner, but also added his own books to the already big collection.

“It’s beautiful” Gwyn exclaimed, looking around, particularly intrigued by the painted ceiling, which portrayed scenes so beautiful they looked almost real to the touch.

Nesta was awfully quiet since he had opened the door, and he dared to steal a glance at her. But all thoughts that she had not liked the place went flying out of his head when he saw her expression.

For the first time, Nesta could not hide her emotions and expressions about what she was feeling. She had a hand over her heart, her breath knocked out her. When Mrs.Potts had shown them the place, it had been a rushed visit and she had not been able to really look at it.

But now she could not look away.

Nesta turned in circles, drinking it all in, from the floor to ceiling light brown shelves — stairs leaning on them to help reach the highest ones —  to the statues, maps and other decorations around the room.

Looked at the couches and tables distributed to accommodate the readers.

She blinked, trying desperately not to make a fool out of herself and cry. There were so many books, the smell of paper filling her lungs.

Gwyn and Azriel moved along the place, the first one eager to explore it and Cassian took the opportunity to bashfully stare at Nesta.

She looked the happiest he had ever seen her, not even daring to blink least she lost some important detail of the library.

“This is beautiful” she finally managed, turning around to see Cassian looking at her with so much adoration and some feeling she could not quite place in his eyes.

“I am glad you like it” he smiled at her, Nesta’s heart missing a beat “You may come here and read as many as you like whenever you are nearby.”

“I do not want to impose” she said.

“Nonsense” Cassian waved a hand, dismissing her worries “The library is quite lonely since I am most of the time away”

“That would be wonderful. I cannot thank you enough”

“Having a stroll near the garden with me would be enough payment” he offered, knowing he was testing his luck.

Cassian tried to forget how their last stroll in the garden had been like. He would not act as stupid as last time and jeopardize it all.

“Nesta! There are music books here!” Gwyn appeared before Nesta could answer him, clutching a book to her chest “I have been searching for this one for so long!”

“Miss Berdara was indeed very happy when she spotted it '' Azriel informed with a small smile, recalling how the singer had squealed in excitement.

Gwyn blushed, looking away from the gentleman beside her.

“Why don’t we move on with our tour and rest a little at the music room?” Cassian suggested “I have just bought a pianoforte that must be begging to be used”

“Azriel can accompany you, he is a well versed pianist” he added slyly, having seen how his brother was unusually flushed when close to the opera singer.

“You play?” Gwyn asked in surprise.

“No. I mean, yes but-” the Chief of the Royal Intelligence cleared his throat, his ears warming “I do play a bit, but not on the professional level.”

“How wonderful!” Nesta exclaimed “Why don’t you show Gwyn the music room? I am feeling quite hot, so Lord Cassian and I will step outside for a bit.”

Cassian could not believe his ears. Had Nesta Archeron truly accepted his offer?

“It is decided then! Please, show me the way Mr. Pianist” Gwyn said, taking Azriel by the arm before he could remember how to talk, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

The library door closed behind them, leaving Nesta and Cassian alone since their dreadful encounter at Feyre’s ball.

“Shall we then?” he said after a while, breaking the silence.

“Is there another route to the garden?” Nesta asked, furrowing her browns in confusion when Cassian walked away from the big oak door Gwyn and Azriel had exited the library by.

He gave her a boyish smile, full of mischief.

“Ready to find out if what I said about secret passages is true?”

Stopping in front of a normal looking shelf, he felt the wood until a clicking sound was heard and the shelf revealed itself to be actually a door that opened to reveal a staircase spiraling down.

“Lead the way” Nesta answered, chin held high as she walked in his direction.

~•~

The rain came out of nowhere. One minute Cassian was watching Nesta play with his hunting dogs —  who were in truth very sweet despite their rough and menacing appearance —  like the fool in love that he was and the next they were drenched down to their bones.

“There’s a greenhouse not too far!” he tried to say above the pouring rain “Come with me!”

Clasping their hands, Cassian quickly led them to take cover there, as they were too far from the main state.

He let a sigh of relief when he saw the greenhouse, taking no time opening the door and ushering Nesta in.

They could see the rain falling heavily outside through the glass panels, different kinds of flowers and herbs all around them, making it seem as if they were in a magic forest.

“That was a surprise” Cassian said “It has been a while since it rained this hard”

He looked at Nesta, water dripping from his hair and he found her staring at their still clasped hands.

“I am sorry” he exclaimed, dropping her hand even though his mind shouted at him to never let her go.

“Here, take my coat” Cassian added, putting it around her shoulders “I would not want to be the reason of you falling sick”

“T-thank you” Nesta said, momentarily distracted by the fact that Cassian’s white shirt had become see-through due to the rain.

Against her better wishes, her thoughts wandered back to the day she had seen him shirtless and dripping wet by the lake, the same funny feeling low in her stomach reappearing as she followed a droplet of water fall from his shoulder length hair and run down his neck.

Nesta was so distracted she froze in shock when he raised his hand, brushing her wet hair away from where it was sticking to her face. His fingers lingered on her skin — Nesta once again wondering how he could still be so warm despite the cold rain  — and she gasped, half from how weirdly attractive he looked and half from pain.

“You are hurt” Cassian quietly said, his fingers hovering above a small cut on her neck.

“It is just a scratch” she replied in the same voice tone, not wanting to break whatever was happening between them “A thorn must have scratched me when we passed by the bushes near the entrance”

They were improperly close, with Cassian looking down at her as he tilted her chin to let him better access the wound. The greenhouse was quiet, no sound but the rain falling outside filling the air.

“It is nothing” she assured him, her own hand coming up to close around his wrist “It does not even hurt that much.”

Nesta did not know how she was talking when even breathing seemed a too difficult task at the moment. She was hyper aware of where their skin was touching, of the heat she felt all over her body, goosebumps running down her arms when Cassian pressed his lips tenderly against her temple.

“You do not appear to have a fever” he murmured, his breath tickling her temple “But maybe it would be wiser to stay the night. I will send a carriage to get your things and your friends’ too. Alright?”

“Alright” Nesta breathless replied, the rain outside slowly turning into a mild drizzle.

Pemberley had just gained new residents.

How Cassian was going to survive living with Nesta for a short period of time was something that remained to be seen.

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @valkyriewarriors @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan @rainbowcheetah512 @darkshadowqueensrule @letstakethedawn @starlightorstarfire @city-of-fae @thalia-2-rose @nestaarcher0n @rowaelinismyotp @julemmaes @dontgetsalmonella @alinaleksanders @lysandra-tiara9 @inardour @hikari274 @fatimafares123 @angelina-figjam @castielspelvis @firebirdofscythia @illyrianundercover

{Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my Fixed Tag list}

#nessian #cassian x nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #pride and prejudice AU #sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm books #sjm fanfic

[cloudy-minded-idiot]

sealing a deal

pairing: Sharon Carter x reader 

warnings: alcohol consumption, slight spoilers for TFATWS

word count: ~1,400

a/n: requested by @penparkz . thank you so much for your request! I’ve never done Sharon Carter before, but I hope you like it :) 

summary: newly arrived in madripoor, sharon attempts to strike a business deal with the reader. (set sometime between civil war and infinity war)

The club was dimly lit. Shadows moved in the colourful neon lights, bodies dancing to the sound of the newest bass-filled techno song. It was impossible to move around without jostling at least a couple of party-goers. They didn’t seem to mind either way, too drunk or high to really notice their surroundings. So, Sharon pushed on, gradually making her way to the bar. Subtly she attracted the barkeeper's attention, muttering the code word she had been given beforehand. With a nod, the burly man put two drinks down in front of her and told her to stay put. He disappeared without another word.  

While she waited, Sharon eyed the bottle in front of her. Its transparent glass revealed a strangely coloured liquid that seemed to change its hue depending on how the club lights hit it. Letters of a foreign language adorned the label, the paper of which was soaked from the condensed water that slowly ran down the side of the cold bottle.  

„It's an expensive drink. Very hard to acquire, “a voice quietly spoke up beside her. The blonde turned her head slightly to face its owner, eyeing the newcomer as they sat down.  

You continued, unfazed by her scrutiny.  

„In fact, I have to import it myself. It’s very costly, so I tend to reserve it for special occasions. “  

She cocked her head to the side, face not betraying any emotions.  

„And you think this will be such an occasion? “  

You simply smiled in answer, picking up the second bottle and holding it out to her.  

„I sure hope so. “  

Taking your cue, the blonde clinked her own bottle to yours, waiting for you to take the first sip before trying the liquid herself. The drink felt smooth in her mouth, tasting both fruity and bitter-sweet, with slight hints of alcohol underneath. You looked at her expectantly, and she nods, setting the bottle back down.  

„Not bad. Not sure if I'd go through all that trouble for this drink. But not bad,” she delivered her assessment with a polite smile.     

„Your honesty is appreciated. I can get you something to drink that’s more to your taste if you like,” you raised your hand to wave down the barkeeper, but the blonde stopped you, with a hand on your arm.

“That’s very kind of you but unnecessary. I'd rather just get down to business,” she told you, releasing your arm again. 

Slowly, you lowered your hand, regarding her with a calculating gaze. There wasn't much you could read from her expression as she kept her professional mask. Typical ex-government agents. You had run-ins with your fair share of them. They usually weren't much fun. Usually weren't as pretty as her either. Suppressing a sigh, you shrugged and took a swig from your drink.  

“Fine," you let out breathily, nodding at her, "I was told you had a business proposal for me. So go ahead. Propose.”  

The other woman wasted no time. Sharon launched into her explanation, going over the plans she had come up with. You listened patiently, letting her talk uninterrupted. She laid out her idea for a high-scale art heist. Nothing you hadn’t done before, definitely doable. She took out a tablet, showing you the piece in question. It was a portrait of a woman, sitting under a tree and looking out to a distant mountain, surrounded by fields of flowers. You were familiar with the work. Very beautiful. Very expensive.  

“The painting will be a part of a special exhibition in Tokyo this week, " Carter explained, swiping on her device to pull up a satellite picture, "Security will be tight, but less so than it would be in the museum. I know a guy who can get us the plans of the exhibition hall and details on the protocols. You would provide the forgery, of course. We’ll quickly swap out the portraits and transport the real one back to Madripoor. I already have a handful of potential buyers willing to pay astronomical prices for this piece. We’ll split our winnings 50-50.”  

You traced the grain of the wooden counter as you thought her plan over with a hum.

“That's a pretty tight schedule. My forgeries take some time,” you pointed out. The blonde remained unimpressed.  

“I've heard stories of you painting a Van Gogh, a Monet, or even a Botticelli in two days. This will be nothing compared to that.”  

“I see, you've done your research," you said with the slightest hint of approval, "Then you'll also know that I don’t usually work with newbies. It’s risky and I have a reputation to uphold.”  

You paused to let your words settle in, taking another sip of your colourful drink. You could feel Sharon’s gaze on you, as you pretended to carelessly look around the club.  

“I have a counteroffer," you went on, keeping your tone light, "You'll handle circumventing the security and selling the portrait. I’ll provide the fake and organize transportation. I get 80 percent of the money as compensation for the risks I'm taking for trusting new blood. In return, if this goes well, we can do more business together in the future and I’ll make sure to recommend you to a couple of my associates. Really get your business going.”  

You couldn’t hide your smile, as you saw her mask slip, a discontent frown settling on her face.  

“So, I'll only get 20 percent despite being the one doing most of the dirty work? I might as well be doing this whole thing on my own-"  

You held up a finger, stopping whatever else she was going to say.  

“Oh, but you can’t. Because your whole operation depends on me making that forgery for you,” you smirk. You saw the way her jaw set in irritation. She knew you were right. You were invaluable to her plan. Didn’t mean she had to like it. Fidgeting with the cold drink in front of her, she made up her mind.  

“45-55 split, and you get to choose the next target should we cooperate again.”  

“I thought that was a given," you dismissed her offer casually, "I can offer you 30 percent.”  

“Absolutely not. 40-60, or I'll look for someone else to help me.”  

You let out a laugh, shaking your head in genuine amusement.  

“Good luck finding someone. There’s no one even close to being as good as I am. If there were, that’s where you’d be,” you leaned back in your chair, “Besides, I'm being generous for even considering working with you. Folks around here aren’t overly fond of newcomers, especially ones that still smell of big government.”  

The two of you held each other's gaze for a moment. Her face was set in determination, eyebrows drawn together as she thought about her rebuttal. You had to admit you admired her stubbornness and resolution. Undoubtedly something she had learned from that great-aunt of hers. Your little staring also contest gave you time to reassess your offer.  

After all, you had done your research on her as well. And you weren't stupid. You knew working with her wouldn't be as great a risk as you made it out to be. She might be new, but she was skilled, and she obviously knew her stuff. Her previous training certainly came in handy too. All she needed were the right connections, and you were sure it was only a matter of time until she made a name for herself here in Madripoor. When that time came, you wanted her to be an ally. Or, possibly, even something more. You never could resist a pretty face.

Mind made up, you set down your drink and held out your hand to the blonde who eyed it with caution.  

“Here’s my last offer. I'll agree to your terms. You get 40 percent of the money. I'll guarantee to do business with you in the future and put in a good word for you, so you can establish yourself around here," you listed off with a grin, never breaking eye contact, “In return, you'll buy me another drink and let me take you out some time.”  

“Take me out?” Sharon repeated with a raised eyebrow. Resting her chin on the knuckles of her hand, she regarded you with interest. For a moment, you admired the way the neon lights danced across her face.

“On a date,” you clarified, “Unless you don’t want to. It's not a deal-breaker. I'd also settle for two drinks instead.”  

The blonde smiled in intrigue, leaning forward to take your hand in hers. Her grip was firm as you shook on your deal.  

“One drink and a date, it is.”  

___________________________________________

taglist: @fireflyglass @madamevirgo @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

#sharon carter x reader #marvel reader insert #request #sharon carter #spoilers?

[lexosaurus]

Everything Was White: Part 12

[see all chapters]

Read on: [ffn] / [ao3]

---

The alarm was blaring.

Danny recognized the noise immediately. But his eyes were still slow to open, his arms were slow to turn off the offending sound, and his brain was slow to recognize that the white ceiling above him was just his bedroom ceiling.

His body was numb. Nothing felt real.

He grabbed his phone off his nightstand and unlocked it. The screen was too bright, but he didn’t care. He’d been through worse. What was a little eye strain to him, really?

There were text messages, but Danny ignored them. The government likely already read them first, so if they were important, Danny would probably have woken up back in his cell rather than his cozy bed.

Ghosts like Danny didn’t get to have comfort. He was unpredictable. Dangerous.

“You’re a feral beast.” Operative O’s deep voice rained down on him. “You need to be trained.”

Danny opened the Twitter app only to be faced with a crushing amount of notifications and his name on the top of the trending list.

He should have felt nervous. Anxiety should have gripped his stomach. But...it didn’t.

He felt nothing.

Numb.

He clicked on his name and scrolled through the tweets. As he suspected, that damn video of him at the PHP littered his screen.

Protests have begun to break out near the health clinic Phantom is attending. [image]

I don’t understand, why doesn’t he just fly into the building or something? Can he not fly?

Is phantom over?

It’s so gross how people feel the need to harass a teenager trying to recover from trauma.

imagine being a teen trying to get emergency mental help and then THAT walks into ur class 

What the fuck did the government do to him? 

He was numb.

Nobody knew what really happened in there, and Danny wanted so badly to keep it that way. And the worst part was, he thought that if he just forgot about it, tried to move past it, then it would all go away. And no one would ever know.

Except Vlad did find out. Somehow, Vlad had managed to get a hold of classified government files about Danny, and if what he had implied was true, then he had learned everything. 

And if Vlad knew, then…

No. He wasn’t going to think about it. 

Danny knew from the moment he’d stupidly revealed himself that his life was not his own anymore. He knew that he was going to be nothing but a government possession from that moment till the day he died.

He didn’t deserve to get upset over this.

He pulled up a blank tweet and started typing. His movements were robotic. Stilted. But one slip-up, just one reason for the public to get suspicious, and Danny knew that some seedy corner of the internet would pounce on the opportunity to dig deeper into Danny’s life than he was comfortable with.

Danny Phantom @dannyphantom Thank you everyone for the support. I’m back home with my family and am healing.

Before he could question what he was doing, his finger was already pressing send on the tweet. He watched as almost immediately, notifications popped up in his inbox. 

But he didn’t open his notifications, he didn’t look at the replies. Instead, he closed the app and shut his phone off.

He didn’t care anymore.

Maddie knocked on the door and asked him a question, and he responded with the right answer for her to leave. He got up and started his new morning routine of sitting in the shower for ten minutes, getting dressed, brushing his teeth, and heading downstairs for breakfast before leaving for six hours of mandatory therapy.

He stared out the window, watching the morning traffic pass by him. He couldn’t remember if he shampooed his hair or if he just sat under the scalding water. But it was fine. He was just a government-issued robot now. Whatever.

There were people lining the highway when Danny pulled into the PHP center. They were shouting different things, holding different signs, their cameras armed and ready as soon as the GAV came into view. The police were there, making sure no one escaped into the parking lot, and there were therapists waiting outside.

They didn’t know. They had no idea what Danny had gone through, why he was there.

And it didn’t matter. Not to them, not to Danny, not to the police or the news stations filming the scene or to the government or Vlad or anyone else. 

Danny wasn’t in charge of his life anymore. 

He was only here because the government had decided he could stay free. 

For now.

The therapists escorted him into the building. Danny felt hollow. Sick.

No, he was fine.

Maddie hugged him, told him to have a good day, that she’d be back to bring him to more therapy after, and Danny nodded. At least, he thought he remembered to nod. He might not have, though.

There was a window in the lobby. A white van was parked along the street.

The APC news van.

Jazz was right. Danny was just being paranoid about the white van outside of their house before. He was so stupid. 

Even if it wasn’t a news van, what would it matter? He didn’t control his life, what would he care if they finished him off in some back alley? What would it matter if they snuck him into their van and held him captive for the rest of his life in some damp containment cell?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Danny spaced out for the morning meeting. He couldn’t remember if he managed to read off his paper for the other teens. His voice wasn’t working today. His head hurt. His chest hurt. Everything was numb.

They had art therapy today, run by a tall, lanky man with sandy hair and a clean-shaven face. He told the group to paint what they were feeling today, to channel their emotions onto their blank sheets of paper.

But Danny felt nothing. He had nothing to give.

He must have stared at his paper for too long, because the therapist tried to talk to him, ask him if he was alright, if he was having trouble with the exercise.

Danny didn’t respond, instead choosing to pick up the green paint and squeeze some of it directly onto his paper, rules be damned. It was too dark, so he grabbed the white paint and smeared it into the green. The color still wasn’t right, but Danny didn’t know enough about art to make it right, so he just kept spreading green across his paper. A dash of yellow, then some white, more green.

Time was up. His paper was green. 

“Good job, Danny. What do you think?” the therapist asked.

Danny stared at the paper, studying the streaks of yellow within the brush strokes. “It’s not the right shade of ectoplasm.”

The day continued with more emotion-managing lessons and group activities but Danny didn’t care and nobody could understand that. He was done with this, he was tired, it didn’t matter.

It was lunchtime, and Danny had no appetite. It felt like he had just eaten breakfast. His stomach was still full, but he had a sandwich sitting in front of him that he needed to eat or else they would tell his parents.

Danny held the sandwich between his fingers. It looked like sandpaper.

He didn’t want to eat it.

The therapist was looking at him. She was probably talking to him too, asking him questions about his day. But Danny ignored her. After all, didn’t he need to eat this lunch? How could he possibly eat and talk at the same time?

The teens were talking around him, but Danny blocked them all out too.

They were noisy.

It was like they weren’t even there.

Danny wasn’t human. He didn’t care. 

But you do care. 

He didn’t.

He was numb. 

Eat up like a good little dog. 

I’m not a dog.

Something inside him snapped, and he yanked on his cold core, channeling all his energy to his fingertips. His fingers tingled out of the tangible field, and the sandwich fell to the table.

“Whoa!” The blonde girl jumped, her eyes trained on Danny’s transparent skin.

“Danny?” 

There was an audience. Danny had forgotten about them. His core faltered, and the power faded from his fingertips. 

He should have felt embarrassed by this emotional display. He should have felt horrified that he’d allowed himself to act so inhuman and disgusting in front of these innocent bystanders.

But he was still numb.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was bored.”

“That was sick!” the brunette boy chimed in. “You can do that on command?”

“Usually.” Danny’s gaze flickered over to the therapist, who was giving him a strange look. He turned his attention back to the fallen sandwich. 

Maybe he would get kicked out of the program for this. For being too dangerous. That would probably be for the better. Then he could go free into the world. No more schedule, no more therapy, no more dissecting his emotions or talking about his trauma. 

Who cared about his trauma, anyway? Certainly not him.

“So you still have your ghost powers, then?” the blonde girl asked. “People were saying online that you lost them. The government took them or whatever.”

Danny brought his hand up to his face, willing his fingers to fade to invisibility. “They’re locked. But...I...they’re there. I’ll get them back.”

He would get them back. He needed them. 

Especially now.

Which was how he found himself sitting quietly outside his mother’s door. Waiting. He should have knocked probably, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. He didn’t know why, he knew he should just go back to his room, go to sleep, stop bothering his parents about this, but he needed his core back.

His mom would understand. She was a ghost biology expert, right? She would get why he needed his core back now.

He raised his fist to knock, but he must have already knocked before because the door opened, revealing his mother dressed in teal pajamas on the other side. 

“Danny?” She frowned, her brows pulling cautiously above her eyes. “What are you doing up, sweetie? Everything alright?”

“I, uh—” His voice was scratchy. He broke eye contact, staring down at his lap. “My—my core.”

“Something wrong?”

He licked his lips, his mouth dry. “I need it back.”

“Sweetheart,” she said in a patient tone. “We talked about this.”

“No. you talked.”

She sighed. “Danny, it’s nearly eleven. Can’t this wait till morning?”

“No. No. I need it.”

“I told you, hun, your core and body need time to heal properly first before we make any drastic changes to your physiology. Just give it a few more weeks, alright?”

“Weeks?” Danny’s voice rose in alarm. 

“I promise it’ll be all worth it.”

Static rang in his ears, and a steel claw clutched at his stomach.

His mom didn’t understand. Why would she? She was human. Humans would never get it. She didn’t understand. 

“No, I can’t…”

“Danny, you need to trust me. Your body needs to rest.”

“You don’t understand.”

She regarded him for a moment before opening her door fully. “Why don’t you come in and we can talk, then. You can tell me why this is so important to you.”

Danny peered inside the door, at the surprisingly average-looking bedroom before him. He could go in, tell his mother just how wrong he felt cut off from his core, how he was being blackmailed by Vlad, how there was a distinct record of every detail of what the Guys in White had done to him, how he had never felt so defenseless, so vulnerable in his life.

But he wouldn’t, and he knew he couldn’t. There was no way he could put it all into words. He was a ghost, she was a human. He couldn’t explain this to her.

Skulker and Vlad may have forced his revelation, but they gave him more secrets than he could ever have dreamt of handling.

Danny turned away. “It’s fine. Good night.”

“Hun…”

“Night, Mom.”

There was a tense silence before Maddie finally relented. “I love you, Danny.”

“You too,” he said reflexively. The words tasted sour on his tongue.

She didn’t understand. If she truly loved him, she would give him his core back right now, but she didn’t.

No, he was just being paranoid. This was just his Obsession talking. He didn’t need his core, he was just as much human as he was ghost. So what if he had to be a little more human for the next few weeks? Isn’t that what he’d always wanted?

To just be a regular human?

Maybe that was what his mother wanted. Maybe that was why she was postponing removing the chip. Maybe she was too afraid to see her son as a monster. A ghost. 

But that was crazy. She loved him.

She was telling the truth. 

His parents accepted him.

---

“You seem quiet today.”

Danny leaned back against the sofa, his arms crossed and his eyes looking anywhere but at the blonde figure sitting before him. The stress ball sat untouched on the table next to him.

He didn’t feel like doing therapy today. He didn’t want to talk. 

His mom was human, his therapist was human. No one was going to get it.

“What’s on your mind, Danny?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He was fine. There was nothing to talk about. Even if there were things to talk about—and there weren’t, this was all just his Obsession going haywire—it wouldn’t matter anyway because he was defenseless and the government was going to kidnap him again. It was only a matter of time.

“You finished your first week with the PHP group today, right? How has that been going?”

“Fine.”

“Can you tell me about some of the activities you’ve been doing?”

“I don’t know.”

She sat there for a moment, as if giving him time to elaborate. But Danny wasn’t going to elaborate. He didn’t feel like talking today. 

He looked out the window. The leaves had changed color, the ripe greens fading to yellows, oranges, and reds. In another few weeks, the ground would be littered with fallen leaves.

Summer had barely just begun when he was dragged from his house, drugged, and locked away. And yet, even though his entire world had come to a halt, time still moved on.

The clatter of the therapist’s clipboard falling on a side table jolted Danny out of his musing. He flinched, his eyes snapping over to see the therapist rising from her chair. 

She stretched her arms behind her back and walked over to the closet. “You know what? It’s been a long day. Wanna play a game?”

“Um...are we allowed to do that?”

“I don’t see why not.” She grabbed a box out of the closet and placed it down in the center of the room.

Danny peered at it in confusion. “Jenga? Of—of all the games out there, you’re really gonna make me...make me get on the floor for Jenga?” 

“Oh, come on, it’s fun.”

“You must throw some wild parties,” he remarked, rolling his eyes. Nonetheless, he slid off the couch and slowly scooched himself towards the middle of the room. As long as he didn’t have to explain why he was two seconds away from ripping his own core out of his chest, he would go along with whatever game she threw at him.

The therapist carefully tipped the box upside down, sliding the lid up to reveal a tower of multi-colored wooden tiles jigsawed together.

“So here’s our marvelous tower,” she said. “You can reach that alright?”

“Yeah.”

“So normal Jenga rules. We switch off trying to remove a piece without causing the tower to collapse. Except, for this game, after you remove a piece, you’re going to pick a card from this stack—” She pointed to a deck of large cards set up next to the Jenga tower. “—and then answer the question on the card that’s the same color. So if I take a purple tile out, I’ll answer the purple question on the card. Got it?”

Danny glanced between the cards and his therapist’s eager face. He was fairly certain Jenga never involved a set of cards before.

Maybe he’d forgotten the rules. It wouldn’t have been the first time his brain had betrayed him. “Am I being quizzed?”

“Don’t worry.” She pushed up the sleeves of her blue cardigan. “They’re just basic therapy questions. Nothing too bad.”

No. This was a trick, wasn’t it? To get him to talk?

He wasn’t going to fall for it. “I thought we weren’t—weren’t doing that...today.” 

“The questions aren’t too deep. Honestly, I mostly just use this game as an icebreaker for new clients. But Jenga’s pretty fun all the same.”

He must have still looked too suspicious, because she threw him an easy smile and went, “Here, I’ll go first.” She carefully nudged a green tile out of the stack and drew a card. “Okay, so the green question on here says, ‘Describe yourself in three words.’ Well, I’d say I’m kind, I think I’m rather nerdy, and I’m a bit of a cat lady.”

That...wasn’t so bad. Maybe this would be an easy game. 

He doubted any of the questions asked him about his core. Maybe he could loosen up a bit, go along with this icebreaker game, if only for an hour before sinking back into his internal panic. 

“Cat lady?” he tried.

She chuckled. “I’m surprised that’s never come up! I have two at home.”

Right, his therapist had a life outside of therapy. Outside of his problems.

But it wasn’t like he knew her name. At this point, it was just too embarrassing to ask. Maybe she had told him that she had cats, and he just couldn’t remember. Maybe he would forget it again tomorrow.

Whatever. It was fine. He couldn’t care about things he didn’t remember. “Uh…” Danny pushed a purple tile out of the tower. “So I just pick up a—um, a card?”

“Yup, and read the purple question.”

Danny looked down at his card and rolled his eyes. “Oh, figures. ‘If you had superpowers, what would they be?’ Well, I’m dead. Does being dead count?”

She laughed, her voice light and airy. “Of all the questions, huh? Okay, let’s modify this a bit. If you could only keep one of your powers, which would you take?”

“Probably intangibility,” Danny said, his lack of hesitation surprising him.

“Oh? Why?”

“Well…” He rubbed the back of his neck. Where the chip was. “It’s the most useful, isn’t it? I can just...you know...I have no physical stuff in my way. I can just phase through any—anything I need. Or—no. Almost anything.”

Not shields. Those could still trap him.

Thankfully, she didn’t try to pry further, just offering him a kind nod and a “that makes sense” before pushing out another Jenga tile. “Blue! Alright, my question is, ‘What is your favorite feature about yourself?’ Hmm...that’s a bit tough, isn’t it? But I think my favorite thing about myself is my hair. When I was a teen, I used to straighten my hair, but then when I got to college, I stopped doing that and just let it be. Now I quite like my curly hair. Okay, your turn!”

“Okay.” Danny leaned over and pushed a red tile out of the tower. “Okay...my quest—question is…‘What is your biggest hope for your future?’ Oh...”

He did want to be an astronaut. But that was before, when he was still human. And then he was caught between thousands of volts of ecto-electricity and that future vanished right before his eyes.

What did he want to do with his life? What did he hope would happen?

He wanted his core back. He couldn’t let himself be so vulnerable for much longer. His chest felt like it was tearing itself apart, he needed to—

Breathe. And answer the question.

What did he hope for his future?

“I don’t know. My future’s kinda...ruined, isn’t it?”

“Try to think on a smaller scale.”

“I…” Danny ran a hand through his hair. He wanted his core back, he wanted to be Phantom, he wanted to protect Amity Park. But he couldn’t say that. It made him sound too ghostly. Too inhuman.

Humans didn’t have these kinds of otherworldly desires. She would think he was a freak if he told her. She wouldn’t know how to react.

“I want to finish PT.”

“That’s a good goal to have.”

“Your turn.”

Humming, she nudged a tile out of the Jenga tower and flipped over a card. “Okay, my question is, ‘What is something you were worried about when you were younger?’ Let me think…oh, here’s one. When I was young, my older sister moved out to live with her boyfriend. It was really scary because I had never lived without her, but we kept in touch and everything turned out okay.”

“I haven’t either. Lived away from Jazz I mean. Like—like for real. But she’s going to college next—next semester. I think she, uh...deferred a semester.”

“And you know, it’s common to feel worried about a sibling moving out. Periods of transition in life can be the most stressful for us, but it’s important to recognize that things will be okay.”

Danny looked down at the carpet. “I guess.”

Some days it felt like Jazz was the only one truly on his side. He was a lab rat, too well known and too hated to ever have a future, forever condemned to a vicious cycle of evading people like the Guys in White and Vlad for the rest of his life. Jazz was leaving him in a few months, his friends would follow in a few years, and in the end, Danny would be alone.

But he was fine with that. He’d accepted it. It was just his life now, there was nothing to say about it.

“It’s my turn, isn’t it?”

“Yup! Go right ahead.”

Danny removed another tile. “‘How do you think others view you and why?’” He paused, throwing the therapist a bitter look. “This is rigged.”

“Not rigged, that’s just a very lucky pick.”

“Lucky to who?” Danny groaned. 

What was with the universe finding new ways to torment him?

“Humor me,” the therapist said patiently.

Danny glared at his card, tapping his fingers against the edge. It wasn’t like the public opinion of him was exactly a secret, but it still hurt. Constantly. Like some scab he kept telling himself to ignore, but ignoring it was impossible because the public would never leave him alone.

“Not good,” Danny muttered. “People hate me.”

“Being in the public eye is very stressful for anyone, but to be unique in your way adds on an entirely different layer. People are afraid of the things they don’t understand, and that makes them forget that at the end of the day, you’re still a person.”

“Yeah.” Danny’s eyes were trained on the colorful tower before him, which was starting to blur as the prickling behind his eyes increased. He ducked his head and blinked, hoping to save face before it was too late. 

“That doesn’t mean everyone feels this way, though. But sometimes it can feel that way to you because the ones who are the most afraid, the most hateful, are the loudest voices in the crowd. But remember, Danny, you won that court case for a reason. You have more people on your side than you think.”

“I won it for now, you mean. I don’t...I don’t think…” His voice failed, and he pressed his fingernails into his palms. He took a few shaky breaths. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Danny. Why don’t we talk about the case for a minute?”

Tucker’s words echoed in his head, how it was televised. How millions of people all around the globe probably tuned in for it, or watched streams online, each person with their own opinion of him.

But he didn’t want to think about that right now. 

“No,” he said. “Can we—can we just continue the game?”

“If you’re not ready to talk about it, then that’s okay. Thank you for letting me know.”

“It’s your turn.”

“Alright.” She pushed a block out of the tower. “So...alright, my question is, ‘What memory do you treasure the most?’ To that, I think fishing with my dad as a child. He was a big support for me when I was growing up, and I really valued our times fishing together as important bonding moments for us.”

Danny nodded politely, trying his best to not appear like he was counting down the seconds until therapy was over.

He could feel his emotions building inside him, threatening to topple the carefully constructed dam guarding his secrets. This was such a simple game, these were such simple questions, so why did he feel like he was failing?

He pushed out a Jenga tile—a red tile—from the tower and grabbed a card, scanning the questions until he found the red one.

What are you afraid of?

The words echoed back to him, and he pushed the card away. He didn’t want to look at it, he didn’t want to read those words or hear her voice because saying the question would mean he would have to talk and he only agreed to this stupid game to get out of talking.

There was so much he was afraid of that he had no right to be afraid of. Because he deserved this. Getting revealed was his fault, he was being reckless. He deserved all of it.

The experiments with the Guys in White. The pain, the way his skin was torn apart. How they threw him in a vat of ectoplasm the next day to heal, and how the ectoplasm entering his lungs made him feel like he was drowning because even though ghosts didn’t need to breathe, he still used those organs reflexively as Phantom. But he was in too much pain and his brain was too hazy to fight back. He could only sink into the darkness.

The red bag. The way it tasted, smelled, how it haunted him every day and how he revisited those moments every night in his dreams. How he would wake up each day and the drawer on his nightstand would be shimmering in the morning sun, as if tempting him to open it up, grab the bottle inside, let it help just for one day. It can take the edge off, he can be functional. Who cares if he’s cheating? It’s just for a day...

The public. The people. Their judgments, their words. How he was, on a molecular level, so vastly different from them. How he could never be the same. He would never have a normal life, he could never have a normal job, a normal family, normal friendships, ever again. There would always be something there, something alien between them.

Even between him and his best friends. There was just something... different ever since the portal accident. It had brought them closer together, sure, but in other ways it had also driven an invisible wedge between them. Because Danny would always have his powers, he would always be a half ghost, and there would always be things now that Sam and Tucker would never understand. 

How much would change now? Now that he was in the public eye, now that he’d gone through government torture? Now that his brain didn’t work the same?

And his core. His humanity. Why were his parents so apprehensive about it?

What are you afraid of?

Why wouldn’t his parents let him down into the lab? What were they hiding? They said his core was damaged, but it had been months since he was ripped open. His surgical damage had healed, his broken bones were back to normal, and even though his nerve endings in his chest and spine were still fried, they had been slowly mending themselves too.

Ectoplasm healed faster than human physiology. His core should have been fine by now.

What was the truth?

“They accept me,” Danny said automatically.

“Who does?”

Who accepted him?

Sam and Tucker did. 

His family…

Did they?

“I don’t know.”

“You have people in your corner, Danny. Your parents, your sister, your close friends. They all care about you. We’re all here for you, even if those loud voices in the public tell you otherwise.”

But if they cared...

“Then why won’t they let me have my core back?”

“Your core?”

“My powers. My ghostliness. Ectoplasm.” Danny let his eyes flair to emphasize his point.

If his therapist was scared of his otherworldly display, she didn’t show it. Instead, she continued to look at him with her neutral expression, free of the judgment he’d come to expect from people since the accident.

And for some reason he couldn’t explain, that irritated him. 

“You mean the inhibitor chip?” she asked.

“Yes. They told me it was because my core...it was damaged but—but it doesn’t make sense! It doesn’t...”

“Have you talked to them about this?”

Of course he had. They kept repeating that his core was damaged. And they were probably right—for a time, at the very least. But that was months ago. 

Why hadn’t they scanned his core recently? Shouldn’t they be happy to learn it was healed? Shouldn’t that make them relieved?

What were they afraid of?

What are you afraid of?

“Do you think it would be helpful if I talked to your mother about this?” asked the therapist. “As a way to introduce the topic? She likely doesn’t know how much it’s bothering you.”

But that didn’t make sense either because Danny brought his core up every day. His parents knew how much it was bothering him. They had to have known, right?

So why were they doing this to him?

What were they hiding?

What are you afraid of?

---

Danny tried to remember a time where walking from his living room to his kitchen didn’t require a list of steps to be taken beforehand—a time where he could just get up and walk. But those memories were far too distant now.

And besides, this was his reality now. A reality where something as simple as walking made his head spin.

He shouldn’t dwell on the memories of how easy it used to be for him, he shouldn’t have snapped at Jazz for getting a cup of water for him because he knew the glasses were too high to reach from his wheelchair, he shouldn’t allow this irrational anger to overtake him every time the creeping anxiety of his future as Amity Park’s ghost hero came into question.

He just needed to focus on where he was now. Curled up on his couch avoiding his parents.

Everything felt wrong this morning when he woke up. For a moment, he had managed to convince himself that he was just being paranoid. That it was just his damaged nerve endings freaking out as normal. That once he took his medication, his problems would go away. 

But they didn’t. He still felt wrong. His chest still felt wrong.

It was manifesting in other ways too. He couldn’t walk as long today at PT. His physical therapist told him it was just a bad day and that his body was probably just tired from his busy week. But Danny knew that wasn’t right.

It had nothing to do with him being tired. He wasn’t sick. He wasn’t anxious.

His core was the problem. His parents were the problem.

He tried asking about his core again on the way home from PT, using conversation techniques he went over with his therapist at the end of their last appointment, but Maddie just brushed him off. Said they would talk about it later.

But then later came and...she didn’t.

Danny tried asking his father, but he brushed Danny off too. Said Danny needed to focus on healing first.

But how was he supposed to heal when he was missing half of himself?

He felt wrong. So wrong. His body was too bound by gravity, it was too empty, it wasn’t listening to him.

He pressed his palms into his forehead. His hands were clammy. Shaking. Speckles of cold touched them—or was that his tears? Was he crying? 

No.

He pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes. What was wrong with him? Why was he acting this way?

The government had him in a cage. They tormented him in ways he would rather die than live through again. But then it ended, and he was freed. He was allowed to go home, he could live his life as a legal person again. 

Except, he wasn’t free. Not at all. He was still trapped here in Amity, in his house, in his body. He had no control. Not over what he ate, when he slept, where he went, what he could say, what he could think. 

Half of him was still locked up tight with no hope of escape.

His water glass was empty. It would have been too embarrassing to ask someone to help him, but he was so thirsty and dehydrated and he just really needed this to work. He needed his body to respond to him. For one moment, please, just let his body respond.

Gripping the water cup in one hand and his walker in the other, he tried to stand, to walk over to the kitchen sink. But balancing everything was so difficult, his body was still fatigued from PT, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to do it but he just needed to try.

But he couldn’t do it in the end. The cup slipped out of his hand and tumbled onto the carpet, thankfully saved from shattering on impact by some last shred of luck the universe decided to pity him with.

And now Danny too was on the floor because he couldn’t bend down to pick the cup back up like a normal person, and he didn’t want to call for help, and he couldn’t use any of his powers, and he felt so trapped. So helpless. So vulnerable.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it was too stubborn and he was too useless.

A tear splattered against his hand, and he gripped the floor, his body trembling.

“Stop crying. Stop it.” he hissed. 

He was weak. 

Plasmius, once nearly his equal, had so severely overpowered him the other night. It was embarrassing. On the hierarchy of ghosts, where was he now? At the bottom with the blob ghosts?

But those ghosts could still fly. They could still turn intangible. Things that Danny couldn’t even do.

Hell, he was so weak that even the Box Ghost could defeat him now.

“Stop crying.”

He crawled back to the couch, the thought of getting water abandoned on the floor along with the last semblance of his dignity. Another tear fell from his cheek, and he desperately tried to ignore it, ignore his dry throat, ignore the pain in his chest, ignore his core and the Y-scar on his body and his new place in the ghost hierarchy as lower than dirt, ignore everything. Just focus on getting back to the couch. Shut down, go numb.

He was fine, he was okay.

He just needed to push through this. Just toughen up, quit whining. Life wasn’t fair. So what if he was now just a regular human? Hadn’t he been human for the first fourteen years of his life? He needed to suck it up.

Dragging himself back onto the safety of the couch cushions, he pulled one of Jazz’s throw blankets around his body and pressed a pillow into his face.

Never in his life had he been so tempted to scream, to curse, to finally let the last brick fall and allow hell to break loose. But his parents were in the basement, Jazz was upstairs, and he was fine. 

He was fine.

---

Huge thank you to tumblr user and writer @imekitty for proofreading this chapter. She’s amazing and I owe her my life.

And as always, thanks for reading!

---

<previous chapter / next chapter>

#danny phantom #everything was white #chapter 12 #my writing #fanfiction #phiccs #danny has A Bad Time

[thefunkao3]

Deepest Secret

Pairing: Wen Junhui | Jun/Xu Minghao | The8

Group: Seventeen

Rating: T (Teen and Up Audiences)

Word Count: 1K

Key Words: Secrets, Established Relationship, Assassins

Date Originally Posted: January 2, 2017

Link:

Junhui and Minghao didn’t have many secrets in their relationship. They knew everything about each other. They told each other everything, whether they thought it was big or small, they talked about it. They knew that communication was one of the most important parts of making any relationship work. They tried to be as transparent as possible with one another.

Except Junhui did have one little secret. And, okay, maybe little was a bit of an understatement. It was a pretty big secret. He had finally decided to tell Minghao, but he was pretty scared about it. Honestly, he had no idea how his boyfriend would take the news.

You see, Junhui was an assassin. He worked undercover for the government to take out threats to national security. And he was good at it too. One of the best even. He used his expert knowledge of martial arts to dispatch some of the most dangerous people in the world. His targets were neutralized before they could even get a single hit in. Most of the time anyways. When they did get a lucky shot in, he was always able to convince Minghao that it was the result of a clumsy accident.

He had no clue how Minghao was going to handle the news. Sure, the younger knew dangerous martial arts as well, but he had only learned it for possible self-defense. Minghao was a gentle soul, so learning that his boyfriend killed people for a living? He might not be able to handle it.

That’s probably what scared Junhui the most about telling Minghao what his real job was, was the very real possibility that he could lose him. Junhui had never cared about anybody as much as he cared about Minghao. He didn’t know what he’d do with himself if they weren’t together anymore. But Minghao deserved to know. He couldn’t hide this from him anymore.

He was interrupted in his thoughts by the sight of Minghao slinking in through the front door. He seemed not to have noticed Junhui sitting on the couch, so he observed him silently. He’d been gone on a business trip for three days, and it seemed to have taken a toll on him. He had dark bags around his eyes and his normally glowing skin looked pale and dull. He looked just about dead on his feet. Junhui was impressed that he was managing to drag his heavy black duffle bag to their room.

Seeing Minghao so tired made Junhui not want to tell him tonight. Maybe he would wait until he was more well-rested. Tell him when he’d had a few more days to fall back into a normal rhythm at home. But no, he couldn’t do that. He had an assignment in two days that he’d have to leave for. And if he didn’t tell Minghao now, he’d lose his nerve and never tell him.

He took a deep breath as Minghao walked back in, trying to steel his nerves. Minghao looked so cute and soft in a pair of sweatpants and one of Junhui’s larger shirts. He seemed to be headed towards the kitchen, and it looked as though something was bothering him.

“Hao Hao? Can you come here?”

Minghao looked confused, but made his way over to the couch, settling himself in Junhui’s lap, as he often did when he was sleepy. He smiled tiredly as he looked up at Junhui.

“Yes Junnie?”

He grabbed Minghao’s hand in his, and began playing with his fingers, something he only did when he was nervous.

“I’ve got something really important to tell you.”

Minghao sighed, face falling. “Me too.”

Junhui furrowed his brow. What important thing did Minghao have to tell him? Had he been hiding something from him this whole time too? Was that why he had looked so bothered earlier?

“Can um, can I go first?” At Minghao’s nod he took a deep breath and let the words fall from his lips. “I’m a government assassin.”

Now, Junhui wasn’t sure what he was expecting Minghao’s reaction to be, maybe disgust, sadness, possibly anger. He’d even imagined a scenario where Minghao had slapped him across the face. It wasn’t likely, but he sure had thought about it. But this, never in a million years did he expect Minghao’s response to be laughter. And it wasn’t laughter of disbelief either, just pure, joyful laughter spilling out of Minghao like a waterfall.

He stared at Minghao, waiting for him to finish laughing. He eventually settled down, giggling quietly in his lap.

“I’m so glad that’s all.”

“What do you mean ‘That’s all’, I kill people for a living Hao.”

“Me too. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

Junhui felt as if his world was crashing down around him. He couldn’t believe it. His sweet, little Minghao, a government assassin? There was no way. Besides, he’s pretty sure he would have seen him at headquarters before.

“You, you’re an assassin? For the government?”

Minghao grinned proudly, “Yep, best there is.”

“Really, you’re the best? Cause I like to think I’m pretty good.”

Minghao laughed happily. “Ever heard of The8?”

Now, Junhui had to believe him. The8 was the codename for an assassin that every other assassin had heard of, but no civilian had. Minghao was definitely an assassin for the government but why was he asking about The8?

“Yeah. Legendary assassin, considered to be the best sniper in the history of China’s secret agencies. Why?”

Minghao leaned towards him, lips brushing against his ear as he whispered, “That’s me.”

Junhui laughed, burying his head in Minghao’s chest. “Of course you are.”

When he finally relaxed, he pressed his lips to Minghao’s, feeling him melt into the kiss. When they parted, he smiled softly as he gazed into Minghao’s eyes. They shone so bright, true happiness making them light up. Their talk may not have gone the way he expected it to, but he wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

He stood up, standing Minghao on his feet, “All right, let’s get you some food Mr. Assassin, I’m sure you’re ready to go to bed.”

Minghao only laughed, following him happily to the kitchen.

#seventeen #svt #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #the8 #jun #junhao #wen junhui #xu minghao #TheFunk

[diavolodigitale]

Dream Sequence. Julian

A-a-and it’s over! Thank god, this one was incredibly hard to finish. I apologize to all Julian fans in advance for writing this but I am not really sorry! Well, maybe only a little bit.

All parts of the trilogy: Lucio - Asra - Julian - All stories in PDF

A part of the "trilogy" about dream encounters dedicated to Julian (because he deserves it). Nothing special, just You (or the Apprentice, or the Reader, however you view it) and Julian spending some time together (if you know what I mean, which you probably don't, so go ahead and read it, it's pretty short, I promise). My character was male, but you are free to imagine whoever you want since there are no references to it in the text.

Genres: Romance, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Dreams, POV First Person, One-shot

Pairing: Julian/Apprentice(or Reader or You or Whatever)

Characters: Julian, Reader/Apprentice/You

Rating: G for Geez this one’s not so good ಠ╭╮ಠ

Size: around 2500 words yet again (what a coincidence, I know)

I open my eyes and see that everything around me is incredibly, terribly dull. It’s swamps as far as the eye can see, with only occasional floating isles of solid land. All of the trees are rotting and old. Their thin branches are reaching up like long eerie claws, with vines hanging everywhere, blocking many paths and obscuring the landscape. I cannot see the sun; the whole sky is covered with heavy clouds ready to burst any minute.

It doesn’t take me long to figure out whose dream this is. Being here alone brings me no satisfaction so I immediately venture to find the owner of this gloomy realm.

After a few minutes of aimless wandering, I finally spot a figure leaning on a broad tree trunk. I would have probably missed it, was it not for its white broad shirt floating in the wind.  

Before I can come close enough to make my presence known, Julian looks in my direction. He doesn’t seem surprised and displays something more akin to mild excitement.

“I have not expected to see you here, but now that I have, I don’t want to imagine what would happen if I didn’t!” he shouts and waves at me.

I give him a smile and approach. My boots are already sodden and I am just glad to stand on the solid ground and not ankle-deep in mud.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asks, leaning back against the tree with arms crossed on his chest.

“Looking for you, of course,” I say, trying to shoo away the annoying insect that seems to have gotten stuck in my hair.

“Oh, how sweet of you,” he says and winks, grinning all the time. “You’re certainly a sight for sore eyes.”

“And why exactly are you here?” I ask. I know that the majority of ordinary people cannot control their dreams the way magicians do, but there still has to be a reason why Julian is in such a place out of all the possible options.

“As far as I can tell, it’s just your regular old meaningless dream, so, probably, no reason. Although now that you are here, I start to doubt that,” he says and squints at me, his gaze full of artfulness.

I roll my eyes and purse my lips.

“No, no, I’m serious!” he says hastily. “I just started to miss you, and now you’re here so I... I’m just glad to see you. And I do want to spend some time with you now since there’s hardly anything better I could be doing here.” The usual grin is back on his face and I cannot help but give him a smile in return.

“You are truly unbearable, you know that?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.

“Well, then…” he mutters and I notice how his back arches against the tree he is leaning at.

“Well, then...?” I repeat and raise my eyebrow even higher, waiting for him to elaborate. I can guess what crossed his mind, but with Julian I can never be sure about anything.

“Perhaps, I deserve to be disciplined…” he proceeds intriguingly, starring at me, hardly trying to hide the hunger in his eyes.

I shrug and curve my lips, pretending to have no idea what he is talking about.

Julian sighs impatiently and pulls me by my arm, making me bump right into him. I hear his breath quickening and feel the tight grip on my wrist which signals that he probably does not intend to let go.

“Let’s just say, you have my permission to be a bit more… rough today. I do deserve a punishment after all,” he whispers and gently traces my neck with the tip of his nose.

I sigh quietly. Sometimes I give in to one these moods of his, but it just cannot go on like this forever. Not the way he makes it at least.

“To deserve a punishment, you first have to actually convince me you did something bad, Julian,” I say and carefully pull away from him.

He furrows his brows as he is taken aback by my response. Soon, however, he plasters another toothy smile on his face and lightly tugs at my arm.

“Oh, so you want me to beg for it, I see. Fine by me, I even like this idea a little more…” he says and kisses me behind my ear.

I enjoy his closeness but cannot stop worrying that there is no getting through to him because of how obsessed he is with his feeling of guilt. I decide that there is no other way for me to resolve this other than changing my strategy, so I try to soften the expression on my face and push him against the tree.

“Actually, I thought, maybe I could ask you to be rougher with me,” I whisper, doing my best to sound sincere with my request, and rub my nose on his cheek.

I feel him tremble with his whole body and pray to all gods that my plan works.

“Me?” he asks in disbelief. I look up at him, my eyes full of plea and sincere wish, and he immediately gives in. “Right,” he says and lets out a nervous laugh,” I cannot be the only one who gets all the luxury. It’s only fair if I… If I…”

I nod agreeingly and tilt my head back a little, exposing my neck. I see the uncertainty in his eyes and stroke his face gently to encourage him.

I realise that I myself seem to start shaking, expecting eagerly for him to act, and I can neither understand why nor stop it. There is always a certain tension between us at moments like this, yet this time is feels different.

Julian wraps his arms around me, continuing to stare fixedly at one point on my neck. I feel my heart rate escalating and pray that he does something already because the wait is killing me.

He leans in and lands a few careful kisses on my neck. They seem to be as pleasant and gentle as always so I find myself enjoying them and even am able to relax a bit. Lingering uncertainly for a few seconds, he finally decides to give it a try and quickly bites me at the base of my neck. I yelp as it hurts a little more than I expected, and he immediately jerks back.

“I am so, so sorry!” he yells, his eyes round and full of guilt and fear. “Are you okay? Is there any blood? Let me take a look at it. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

I reach to the spot where he bit me before he does anything and feel it with my fingers. There obviously is no blood as he hasn’t bitten even remotely violently enough to pierce my skin. I exhale with relief and look at his worried face.

“Oh, please, forgive me, I will never do it again! What was I even thinking?” he says and pulls on his hair, sliding down the tree trunk.

I squat beside him and lift his face by the chin to make him pay attention to what I want to say.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, feeling the waves of guilt for what I made him do starting to wash over me.

“Horrendous,” he says, his eyes already trimmed with red. “And guilty, and sorry, and…”

“That’s also how I feel when I hurt you, Julian. That’s what I wanted you to understand,” I finally muster and feel the heavy burden lifted off my shoulders.

He squeezes his eye shut and bumps his head against the tree behind him.

“How foolish of me… I have never even thought about that before. I don’t know how you can forgive me for this,” he mutters. It looks like he wants to reach out and grab my hand, but decides to jerk back when our fingers nearly touch.

I take his hand into mine and the leather of his glove feels cool against my skin. We’re both exhausted so the sooner I end this conversation the better.

“I don’t want you to feel guilty or sorry, I just want you to respect yourself more. Don’t sell yourself short, you also deserve care and affection, just like everybody else,” I say, stroking his hand. “There is time and place for everything, of course, so if you want me to, I can treat you differently, but I don’t want to see how you look down on yourself all the time.”

Julian’s lips stretch into a wide sincere smile and he looks at me with all the warmth that a single person can hold.

“I am such a fool, even the manifestation of you I have in my mind is much smarter,” he says quietly.

I look at him questioningly, not understanding what he is trying to say.

“This single dream is the best and most useful one I have had in years. Now that you’ve opened my eyes... I will not make the same mistake when I wake up and meet the real you again, my darling,” he says and lovingly strokes the side of my face.

“Julian…” I begin, not even knowing how to approach this, “you do know that this is me, don’t you? I am not something you made up in your sleep, this is actually me.”

I watch his eyes that were so calm moments ago become wide again and slide closer to him. The last thing I want is for him to have a breakdown because of me.

“I am… the worst,” he simply says and sighs.

“That’s not true,” I object and kiss him softly on the lips. He returns my kiss with triple the force, and I feel like I’m melting under his touch.

All of a sudden, a big heavy droplet lands right on my nose and, disappointed, I am forced to open my eyes. Soon, many more of them follow, and before we know it, we are both sitting soaking wet under a tree that has absolutely no means to protect us from the rain.  

I am worried for Julian so I look him up and down to make sure he is alright. I notice his now half-transparent shirt sticking to the skin on his chest and his shoulder and hastily look away, but he has followed my gaze and is already grinning at me again.

“We should seek shelter,” I say, trying to shout above the storm that is starting, and help him up from the ground.

“Agreed, I am not a fan of drenching in the rain, even if this is a dream. Come on,” he says and confidently wraps his hand around my waist, “I know just the place for us to hide.”

Soon the rain turns into a downpour and we have to run for our lives to avoid its stinging heavy droplets almost bruising our skin. The place is magical, after all, and so is the rain, so it’s much more unpleasant than any other rain I’ve ever experienced. I suspect that the place is in such a state of gloom precisely because of how Julian feels but I keep it to myself and follow his lead. Even while running, he holds my hand tight and turns around every minute or so to make sure I am fine and able to continue going.

I trust Julian to choose the path among identically looking withered trees the branches of which are interwoven with different sorts of creeping plants. My trust pays off when we arrive at a cave entranced which is carefully tucked away behind tall dry bushes. I definitely wouldn’t have noticed it if I were to look for shelter on my own.

The cave is rather small, there’s barely enough room for it hold two people and an impromptu campfire, but we manage. Most of the twigs we are able to gather are completely wet, so I have to use a bit of magic for the sparks to finally start the fire. Julian is ecstatic about what my magic can do while I am silently thanking Asra for teaching me this trick right in time for me to be able to use it now.

Being able to catch our breath in the modest sanctuary provided by the cave, we relax a bit and ponder over what we can possibly do here with such limited possibilities.

I sneakily peer at Julian to make sure he is okay (or so I tell myself at least). He’s in a better condition than I expected, breathing deeply and with his cheeks pink from running, but still drenched to the bone. I cannot help but lower my gaze a bit and notice that his shirt is now sticking all over his upper body, contouring every muscle.

It goes without saying that he immediately catches my glance and reveals his teeth in a predatory grin. I must’ve been gawking at him for too long. It makes me feel embarrassed so I shift my gaze to the fire before me.

“Oh, no need to be so shy, after all, my view here is not much worse than yours,” cackles Julian and slides closer to me.

I doubt his words, remembering that I am also wearing a travelling cape given to me by Asra on one of the holidays we celebrated together in our shop.

It suddenly dawns on me that I actually know the spell that can dry our clothes so I think about using it to help out Julian, but then hesitate. He doesn’t seem like he really needs it now and I am somehow amused by the idea of him staying the way he is.

“How are you feeling? Want me to dry your clothes?” I ask to get rid of the pricks of my conscience.

“No, I don’t think so,” predictably says Julian. “I haven’t felt this good in a while, actually. What about you?”

“I am… fine,” I say. I really am fine but feel hesitant about saying it because it seems to me that he wanted to hear something else instead.

Julian pouts and only nods silently to my reply.

Not knowing what to do, I take off my cape and wrap it around his shoulders to make sure at least the exposed areas of his skin are covered with soft cloth. It makes absolutely no sense since we’re still in a dream and I have a dozen other ways to help him if he wanted me to, but it just feels like the right thing to do.

His smile softens somehow and I see the tips of his ears, which are sticking out from his wet auburn hair, growing red.

“Come here,” he says and motions me to come sit on his lap.

I oblige and soon lean my back against his chest with his long legs resting on my sides. He lets his slender fingers slide into my hair, combing it and scratching the delicate skin on the back of my neck. It’s a very calming and pleasant feeling, so I close my eyes and let myself get some rest.

“You know…” I start, feeling that I simply have to say it.

“Mm?” he mutters, preoccupied with my hair.

“That… what you did… wasn’t so bad,” I say shyly, hoping he will still understand even with me sparing him the details.

Julian’s fingers stop moving and he tilts his head to take a cautious look at my face. Before he can come up with any ludicrous remarks on the topic, I hurry to elaborate.

“Well... it’s you, so I know you’ll never hurt me or… And I’ll also never really hurt you, so… You know… You understand, don’t you?” I ask pleadingly. This turns out to be much harder than I expected. “Sometimes I’m just not in the mood and I want to be gentle with you. You deserve it.”

“I do?” he only asks.

“Change my mind,” I reply playfully, thinking that I will most likely regret it later.

I hear him chuckle and a second later feel his teeth carefully nibble at the base of my neck a few times. It tickles more than it hurts so I follow the reflex and tilt my head back to make him stop.

“If I do, will I ever be able to change it back?” he asks curiously, slides his arms in front of me to hug me and begins to trace circles on my stomach.

“With enough effort, everything’s possible,” I say, positioning my body a bit lower to rest my head on his chest.

“That’s good to know.”

#The Arcana #Arcana #fiction #fanfiction #Julian #julian devorak #Julian x reader #julian romance #romance #pov first person #hurt/comfort #fluff #Dream Sequence Trilogy

[sweeethinny]

’'Do you always stare at others like that?” For hinny please :D (even better if its an au but cannon is also pretty sweet) :D :D

it was a lot of fun to write, maybe mainly because I love to think about Harry being an artist, and I love even more, writing about art in general. I hope you enjoy! <3

A red strand here, an orange strand there, so she had brown streaks falling under her shoulders that made her look like Harry's goddess, all mixed up in colors and also looked like a sunset between the trees.

Her eyes had that brown tint that he had to dilute three inks to get an approximate color, even though maybe he needed a little more yellow and who knows, very little more of a more closed red. But Harry was content with that color that had arrived.

Her skin was more rosy, which was perhaps a little because of her beautiful red hair, and her cheeks were always a shade more pink than the rest of her face, as if she was always flushed (or had sunbathed too much), making the freckles in that region look so much more alive and flashy, that he wanted to run his hand over her skin, as if he expected to feel the warmth.

He was doing a good job. Looking at the real her again, and noticing how focused she was on her book, turning the pages and smiling in the corner with whatever was written on the pages; Of course, the real Ginny was much prettier than the one on Harry's canvas, but he was doing a good job.

''Do you always stare at others like that?’’' She looked up just as he was staring at her, trying to figure out what her lip colors would be like, a mixture of Indian red with another color that Harry hadn't yet defined which one would be.

‘’Just you.’’ He said, hiding again behind the big canvas he was painting, facing the other Ginny, this time, the one he painted with such affection.

''I know I'm your inspirational muse, but you make me uncomfortable.'' She stretched out her feet on the bench she was sitting on, her hair taking on new orange highlights now that Ginny had turned on her side, the sunrise Parisian shining behind her as if crowning a Goddess.

Aphrodite would be jealous of her.

''I thought you were used to it.'' He smiled, painting more freckles on her face, emphasizing the one on top of her lip that he loved to suck on when they kissed.

'’I think I never will. It's weird to see you staring at me while you paint.’’ She drank her tea, Harry’s white shirt turning a little transparent against the rising sunlight, giving him a privileged view of her bare breasts hidden precariously by the fabric.

''What are you reading? Has the Duke of Clevedon gone after Marcelline?’’ Harry started to focus on her lips, smiling in love with the painting in front of him.

‘’Yes, and of course he forgot about Clara.’’ She moved to the other sheet, focused on the book, even though he sometimes caught Ginny looking out of the corner of her eye. ‘’What are you painting? What made you get out of bed at four in the morning to start painting like crazy, when you could have stayed in bed with me?'' She finally looked at him, leaving the book open in her lap, but now paying full attention to him. The sky behind her was almost completely pink, the sun getting higher and higher in the clouds.

‘’It is the last frame of the exhibition. But don't see, I want it to be a surprise.’’ He stopped her before she could get up to sit next to him as she usually did. She sometimes laid her head on his lap and slept while Harry painted, or lay there, talking about everything and nothing, and other times, she just sat next to him, watching him paint.

‘’Aren’t you really going to tell me what this whole collection of paintings is about?’’ Her bare foot went up and down Harry’s leg, her touch seeming to ignite his skin. ‘’Am I not even going to get a little spoiler?''

''No. Nothing.’’ Harry concentrated on her neck, skipping the freckles there. ‘’I like to see your face when everything is ready and hanging on the walls.’’

‘’You’re so boring,’’ Gin snorted, lying on the bench and disappearing out of his sight, leaving him with only the window that have a beautiful view of Paris. The breakfast table was littered with Harry's paints and supplies, as well as the newspaper and some of Ginny's papers, scattered in the usual clutter that only they understood.

Such a mess that had made Harry paint 10 pictures inspired by their lives, the mess they made before finally accepting that they should be together, and the roller coaster of feelings that it had been until that moment. The whole exhibition was created over the more than 10 years that they had been together, and especially the idea of ​​love, which Harry now had.

It was like watching a book unfold with each art; the restaurant on the corner of the library where she worked, which they met; the cafe where Harry took her for their first date (which was not planned, but which she insisted on saying was their first date); the romance section where they gave their first kiss - and for this one, Harry drew a blurred couple kissing in the background; a room full of sculptures and canvases, which was when Ginny went to his work to say that she was leaving, and consequently, where Harry realized he loved her; the way to her parents' house; the airport with the vision he had of when he saw her plane leaving for Paris, where she would go to work; his boarding pass to Paris; the bouquet of jasmine he bought, that there was a bee in the middle and that stung Ginny in the nose (and in this one, he made sure to draw her in the background with a red nose); the jewelry store with their engagement ring in the window; the vision he had of the altar, while waiting for it; and finally, Ginny.

All paintings had little, if not all, of Ginny's appearance (even if blurry), her hair flying in the background, her hand or something that reminded her of her.

Seeing little pieces of their life scattered around the pictures, made Harry want to declare his love for who knows what time, already lost on how many times he had tried to make her cry or blush with his words, just to laugh and fill her with kisses later, getting even more in love.

‘’Gin,’’ Harry called out to her, and she got up from the bench, with that messy hair of someone who had woken up at five in the morning to be with her husband while he was painting, after a night that had been well spent. ''I love you.''

‘’Awn, Harry, I know,’’ She laughed, bending under the table to squeeze his cheeks, like she did with their godchildren. ''I love you too. Even if you don't show me what you're creating here.'' Ginny sat down again, the sky behind already bluish, reflecting off her hair and making it look more reddish, and definitely showing how translucent the fabric of his shirt was against the light. . ‘’My eyes are up here, my boy.’’

‘’I know.’’ Harry dropped the brush, deciding that there was nothing else to do when the paint was wet, and that he should wait a few hours to do the finishing touches.

‘’Don’t you need to finish this?’’ Ginny pointed to the canvas, but also closed the book and placed it on the table.

‘’I have two more days to deliver,’’ He walked over to her, picking her up as if she weighed nothing, hearing her squeak of surprise. ‘’We have more important things to do now.’’ And then he stepped away from the dinner room, ready to go back to the warm, cozy bed and enjoy the first hours of the day in the best possible way.

#hinny #hinny au #harry x ginny #Harry and Ginny #Harry Potter #Ginny Weasley #hp au

[rokutouxei]

speaking your language

part 5 of atelier heart

ikemen vampire: temptation in the dark theo van gogh/mc, vincent | T |  2506 | [ao3 in bio]

spoiler warning: key plot points mentioned in chapter 10 and 15 are used in this fic, with the vaguest hint of chapter 24 at the tail end.

also: my deepest apologies to people who actually speak dutch, i’m taking all of your con/crit with an open heart.

The first Dutch word you’d ever learned was hondje.

Dog, you’d learned. Or puppy. Not the worst first word to learn in a new language, but definitely up there if one considers the fact that it was meant to refer to you. It’s not that bad, though, and puppies are pretty cute, so it was easy to let it slide.

Then, knabbeltje. A snack, a little nibble. Not that Theo has any interest in taking any bite at you. He’s made that clear from the first night. For someone who’s so good at smooth talking his clients, that was a weird word to use for you, you’d thought. But, Theo has his reasons, you supposed.

Which is exactly what makes you so keen into learning the language.

You’ve learned that a little bribery can get you a long way when it comes to Theo—as in, get him invested and you’re good to go—so that morning, you take the extra effort. You rise earlier than you’ve ever done to prepare pancakes for him, whipping the egg whites with as much vigor as you can muster to ensure that the pancakes are as fluffy as humanly possible. You make sure every portion is peak jiggly, and they are, because you can’t help but tap them contentedly on the plate as they cooled, watching them wobble. Then, like a cherry on top, you take out the special pancake syrup you’d bought the day before, having come with Sebastian to buy groceries, the one you’d chosen specifically for Theo. (And oh, only for Theo, because no other mansion resident with the right mind about sugar would dare try it.)

You try to keep it a secret as long as you can, presenting the plate of sweet goodness to Theo once he’s come down from his room. The both of you are alone at the dining table, because it’s still way too early. He’s already dressed and ready to go, even if it’s just six-thirty a.m., and if he has a comment about you being already up when you usually aren’t, he holds it back.

Good choice—you want him to focus on the pancakes, and a smile erupts on both of your faces when he begins to munch happily away on the syrup-drenched disaster of a plate. The sigh he makes goes straight under your skin.

But you can’t let your guard down, because you still have a mission, and that is: to convince him.

When his shoulders relax, you finally pop the question.

“Won’t you please teach me some Dutch?”

Theo’s fork hovers in front of his mouth. “What?”

Over the past week, you’d learned two basic Dutch phrases from Theo, in the notes he’d written for you. Tot ziens, which he said meant goodbye for now, and Dank je, thank you. That makes four total things you can now say in Dutch. Not much, but clearly already much more than what you started with. You belatedly realize you don’t actually have a reason you can dare tell him as to why you want to learn Dutch, but never mind that.

“I said, won’t you teach me some Dutch, sometime?” you repeat. “I still have three weeks to spend out here, and while my French and English are pretty fine, I can’t really keep up with your Dutch. I thought it wouldn’t be so bad to learn, especially since you’re bringing me along to work anyway.”

Cringe. That wasn’t a good reason, you were sure. But maybe the pancakes will make Theo’s steel heart a little more malleable for your favor.

What other reasons do you have? Well, maybe he’ll be able to better explain to you certain things about art and their work if he reverts to his mother tongue, right? There are certain things translations miss, after all, and maybe if you learned the language, it’ll be much easier on the both of you? Oh, wait, but does that mean you’ll be intruding on the shared, perhaps too-personal language he shares with his brother? Oh, no, that wasn’t what you meant. Maybe—

“Dutch syllables are very different from English and French,” Theo says, instead, after a long moment, a not-really yes or no.

You narrow your eyes with his response, but quickly realize maybe he’s just testing your will to do it. You are motivated. Learning languages are fun. “That’s fine, nothing practice won’t conquer. It’s really not cute that all I know how to say is stuff like dog and snack.” He snorts. “I mean, if you’re not up to it…”

Theo sighs. A sigh of defeat. “Okay, but you’ll have to work hard for it.”

You grin. That morning, you learn pannenkoek and siroop.

-

The learning curve for languages always differ according to the person, their own mother tongue, the language itself, and of course the work one puts into studying it, but one factor that really ups the vocabulary and grammar retention is being able to hear the language being spoken, rather regularly. This is how you end up having Vincent help you out with your little adventure in learning Dutch.

Having gotten used to conversing in French to each other, the brothers take time to adjust switching to their mother tongue for you. But when you’re looking at them with amazement exchanging words you can barely say, much less understand, there’s little they can’t do.

(Theo is mortified to have to surrender to it, but when he’s transparent to his brother, does he have any other choice?)

All of this happens just in time for the preparation for the exhibit to begin. The three of you spend much time together, selecting paintings, planning the exhibit orders, looking for themes. The two decide that this isn’t just a good opportunity to learn, it might also be in your best interests if they team-teach you the language.

Counting the paintings, Vincent teaches you the basics, hauling canvas after canvas going—een, twee, drie, vier, vijf, zes, zeven, acht, negen, tien. With the chosen paintings laid out on the floor, you point out colors and he teaches you their names—rood, oranje, geel, groen, blauw, paars, roze. He teaches you how to introduce yourself, say your name, teaches you greetings, basic nouns, the kind you will learn in introductory Dutch classes in universities if you were back in the 21st century. Vincent is gentle and kind and claps when you get the words right. (It makes you feel like a child. The word is kind.)

Theo, on the other hand, focuses on teaching you things related to the work at hand: een gallerij, een tentoonstelling, een schilderij—of course, a gallery, an exhibit, a painting. Teaches you words to describe the things you see, like mooi, for beautiful, and interessant, for interesting. He corrects your grammar, teaches you how to say, “let’s go home” or “I’m hungry, let’s eat”. When you don’t get the phrase right, he gives you a look, completely ignoring what you’d just said until you finally say it right. He corrects your pronunciation to the best of both your abilities.

He’s also found great joy in teaching you phrases before telling you what it means, and that’s how you’ve practiced saying misschien ben ik een hond die een jurk draagt as if you were a dog wearing a dress.

But you hear his laughter and it doesn’t matter as much.

-

Theo buys you a notebook to compile the words you’ve learned. In only a few days, you’ve amassed a wide range of words you now sprinkle throughout your sentences like a playful multilingual. You’ve gotten odd stares, sure, but it’s always better to keep using the words you’ve learned, because that’s how you make it seem natural.

So far, though, for the ones you’ve learned, it’s the Dutch verbs that are trickier than you expected. The conjugations keep tripping you up. They seem simple, and in fact a lot of them sound pretty close to their English counterparts, but Theo’s stares and (im)patient waiting for you to correct what you’ve said betray your misuse of them over and over again.

So at night, you practice. Staan for stand. Zeggen for say. Helpen for help. Leren, for learn.

Blijven, for stay.

Sorting Vincent’s paintings at the gallery Marquis Vollard had lent you, you bump shoulders with Theo and ask, “How do I say, ‘I love this’, in Dutch?” as you pull out a canvas from the stack.

“Ik hou hiervan.”

“Hmm.” You put aside the painting and pull out your notebook and pen. “So hou means love?”

“Houden, means to hold,” Theo says. “Like a hand, or a book. Hou van is what’s used for love.”

“So it’s ik hou van…?”

“Ik hou van jou,” he answers, without a thought.

A long moment, before the realization hits.

He turns away from you, and you’re thankful because of how hot your face feels.

“You use the same for other things,” Theo says. His voice is as even as always, and it makes your heart fall a little. “Like paintings, and art.”

“I see,” you say, before dropping the topic altogether.

You’re getting good at this keeping your heart tucked away thing, so you write ik hou van jou in looping letters on your notebook before returning to work.

All the while thinking: to love means to hold.

-

So you hold him.

After the fire.

After wheatfields.

After Gauguin.

Even when it hurts to hold.

Even when it’s him that’s let you go.

Even after you’ve heard the gunshot.

You hold on to him, even if you’re not sure if the both of you are speaking the same language anymore, if you’ll still ever be able to understand the other.

You hold on even if there’s blood everywhere.

Blijven means to stay.

And herstellen… means to recover.

The hospital is rather cozy. Quite similar to the ones in the 21st century, but still different from the sterile whiteness of it. You sit next to Theo on the bed, waiting for him to speak. You are alone for the first time since he’d said goodbye.

You hadn’t left him yet.

That night, he presses the words please forgive me into your lips, praying it’s the last time he’ll ever have to hurt you that way. You cradle his face in your palms and hold his love in your hands gently, as you exchange promises that it will no longer break.

-

You learn a lot of words after that, too.

Like wheatfields, tarwevelden. And forever, voor altijd. Each word learned is linked to a memory, making them hard to forget. Like katje, the day a kitten spooks Theo in the garden. Lekker, once you’ve made him a delicious batch of syrupy pancakes once again. Schat, treasure, and schatje—that is, you.

You’re still years of practice away from being fluent in Dutch, but at this point you’re fluent in Theo, and that’s really what matters.

And one night, Theo’s got you in a kiss when the both of you enter the room. You push at him just enough so that he sees the look on your face. “Teach me Dutch,” you say, half-teasing, and he laughs as he joins you in stripping off your clothes.

There’s no easier way to remember vocabulary than to learn it viscerally, carve it against your skin into a memory, and Dutch is no exception. You both fall into the bed in an entanglement of limbs, righting yourselves up just to catch each other in another kiss.

You cup both his cheeks, and he teaches you, “gezicht.” Face.

You kiss his forehead, and he says, “voorhoofd.”

You gently run your thumbs under his eyes, and he says, “ogen.”

“Kus,” he says, “is like this,” pulling you toward him in a kiss. You sigh into the word without much grace.

Pressing his lips against your throat, he teaches you, “hals.”

Grazing a fang onto your shoulder, “schouder.”

He sucks a bruise onto your collarbone and says, “sleutelbeen.”

The sensation makes your hand fly onto his hair, and with a chuckle he teaches, “haar.”

He takes your hand in his, presses a kiss onto your wrist. “pols.”

You cup Theo’s face in your hand and scour his body for more words, like a dictionary made of flesh. Your free hand grazes the scar on his back and with a sigh he teaches you “litteken.” You wonder if the same word applies to those found in his heart.

“Rug,” he teaches you, the vast expanse of his back.

Your hand goes down to his waist and he says, “taille.” You touch his hip and he says “heup.”

He gives you a mischievous look, one that suited his boyish features so much, your heart nearly stops. “Where is je favoriet?” he asks you, teasing. A phrase you’d learnt earlier. Your face flushes at the connotation but you refuse to give him the answer he wants, tapping his nose (“neus”) with a finger.

“You are mijn favoriet,” you respond, and you know when he steals your lips even more deeply than earlier is only because you’ve made him flustered. You laugh into the kiss and he growls.

Never one to be outdone, Theo pushes you backward onto the bed. The two of you share a short moment of intimacy, staring at each other’s eyes with the kind of searing fondness that always leaves you breathless, before he’s on his way down again to teach you.

“Dij,” he mouths against your thigh; lifts your leg up toward him, pressing kisses all the way down. “Knie. Kalf. Voet.” You nearly kick him when he kisses your foot but he holds you still. “Enkel.”

“But I haven’t taught you the most important one,” he says. Crawling back upward, he cups the apex of your thighs and grins. “Paradijs,” he says, and you hit him on the shoulder, covering your mouth with one hand. The laugh that rolls out of him makes your embarrassment worth it.

You pull him upward to take another kiss from him, and while you could have at it tonight, you just want to bask in his presence. You whisper “omhelzing?” hoping to get the pronunciation right or else he’ll ignore your plea to cuddle, thankful that he pulls you up to switch position.

He rests his head on your chest and says, “hoofdkussen,” with a sigh, and you’re not an expert yet, but you’re pretty sure that’s not what it should be.

You push him off with a groan (“you’re heavy!”) and the two of you switch to your usual cuddling position, Theo holding you in his arms and your head on his chest.

You don’t realize your hand has hovered over the spot on his chest right over his heart until he places his hand on yours.

Whispers into the listening night air:

“Voor altijd van jou.”

---

in the atelier: The Kiss by Gustav Klimt 

also in the atelier, hidden somewhere hard to find, is Gustave Courbet's L'Origine du monde. (and because it is hidden, you’ll have to find it on your own. do be careful when you look it up though.) that painting singlehandedly inspired the paradijs bit, so it has to be mentioned.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire theo #ikevamp theo #ikevam #ikevam theo #atelier heart #fic #me and my 41 duolingo dutch crowns worked hard for this #speaking your language

[ariparri]

Aahh it's here, it's finally here TwT

This story was written by cursedautumn on Instagram as her part of a story/art trade.

Woke up today to see that she was able to finish it and I just love it ToT

I just adore this ship so much and I'm happy the first kiss scenario exists through a story!

The original scenario has Veruca a bit more shy when asking for another kiss before Diego just smothers her and starts calling her cute. But this, this was perfect!!

And I think that last bit of the story may be a nod to Avis, Veruca's great grandmother, due to her patronus/symbolism being a blue butterfly. If it is, that's just so cute!

The June evening of that year was absolutely perfect for a date: the sky was clear, dark blue and starry, and on the horizon there was a strip of sun so bright ruby color that it was painful to look at it. The air was heavy with the scent of pine and wood, and the flower beds flanking the Westside Park paths were filled with scarlet roses, yellow tulips, and white peonies-in short, a beautiful profusion of flowers. In the twilight, the gazebo, festooned with glittering garlands and lit with candles, looked like a real magic house, and Veruca, who came here to meet Diego, marveled at the beauty and romantic atmosphere of this place. Diego had a way of surprising her, even though this was probably their tenth date. By the way, they never kissed, and he was still eager to give her a real holiday every time. Romantic!

"Do you like it?" Diego asked coquettishly, adjusting the collar of his snow-white shirt. Veruca nodded confidently. "I told you, this is a great place for a date!"

"And you were right as always!" she laughed. They began to pull out of a wicker round basket the provisions they had brought with them for the date: a bottle of rose wine, expensive cheese, a mind-blowing scented baguette with a thin crisp crust, glasses, a bunch of ripe grapes and a bag of cherries, chocolates and napkins. "I think there are more garlands here than there are stars in the sky."

"And the brightest star is right here, right next to me," he said. Veruca smiled: her boyfriend offered a few standard, but very pleasant, compliments. Diego took one of the cherries in his mouth and took a big bite. A drop of juice rolled down his chin and was about to fall on his shirt, but he caught it and wiped it with his finger so that Veruca blushed involuntarily and turned away, pretending to be very busy looking at the wine in the bottle.

She and Diego had been dating for quite some time, and she couldn't even remember exactly when it all started. Their relationship flowed like a river: from date to date, hugs, dancing, talking — but so far without kissing or anything more daring. It seemed strange to Veruca that she, a grown-up girl, didn't kiss her boyfriend, but given the circumstances, she could be forgiven for that. And then, what's the point of a relationship if you have to force yourself into it? Diego didn't force her. He just waited. Veruca understood what he wanted, and she often found herself wanting to finally expand the horizons of possibilities. But she just didn't feel ready for it yet. Maybe it will happen today, maybe tomorrow, maybe next month. Veruca didn't make a wish. She had learned to expect anything from herself.

Although, frankly, she liked Diego not only in platonic terms. As a man, he was remarkable, but his merits were not limited to this. He was a rare beauty: dark, fit, muscular, with long, thick hair the color of bitter chocolate and pleasant dark eyes. When he undressed, smiled, ruffled his hair, Veruca was ready to devour him with her eyes, and inside she had a burning desire to kiss him. However, she held back. Controlled herself.

"Well, let's get started!" Diego said solemnly, picking up the wine bottle and carefully uncorking it. Veruca followed his strong, beautiful hands with her eyes. "Shall we start with a baguette with cheese? I'm starving."

They sat down at a table in the gazebo next to each other. The sun had set, and Westside Park was plunged into a romantic haze. They unwrapped the thin paper that served as the packaging for the baguette. Dark cherries and transparent grapes glittered enticingly on their round, glittering sides. Diego poured the wine into the glasses — the liquid sparkling and fresh as a morning lake.

There was silence for a while. Veruca sipped her wine. It was sweet, with hints of apricot, not too cloying or tart. Her throat burned pleasantly. It wasn't that she was getting drunk very quickly, but tonight the wine was particularly relaxing, and she quickly stopped thinking, stopped worrying, and leaned her elbows on the table with an exhalation. Diego didn't say a word, but his eyes said more: he looked at her with love and adoration. With each passing second, Veruca felt lighter and lighter, and wanted to laugh, jump up, and dance. She stared at his handsome face, at his broad shoulders, at his dark gold hair…

"Hey, honey!" Diego snapped his fingers in front of her face and smiled. "What are you thinking, mmm?" Veruca smiled and caught his hand. "Nothing, really."

"How's the wine?" he asked, rolling a seductive smile on his lips. Veruca shrugged, pretending to be only mildly impressed.: "Very pleasant. Light. I love that kind of thing."

"I know," Diego grinned, and moved closer to her. Veruca took a slice of bread and took a bite; it was fresh, crisp, and delicious. "Damn, this wine is crazy! I got it from a distant relative of mine, who works for Limmiani wine products."

"Oh, you're related to a Limmiani worker?" Veruca asked in a flirtatious tone. "I'm definitely not going to leave you now!"

They laughed as they sipped their wine and ate crusty bread, tender cheese, juicy, honey-sweet grapes and cherries, and hard but fast-melting chocolate. The sky overhead shimmered and glowed with cold bluish stars. It got a little cold. Veruca shivered, she forgot her coat at home. Diego noticed this and immediately asked her to take his jacket; she accepted the offer and did not regret it at all — the fabric was soft and warm, it smelled pleasantly of perfume and flowers. They sat there for half an hour, enjoying each other's relatively intimate physical company, until Diego asked her to dance.

"Dance? Here?" Veruca laughed, feeling a little light. It was already dark and not so warm. "That's nice, but I'm not sure I can waltz in my heels."

"Then take them off," Diego suggested. "The grass is soft, there are no insects here. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Veruca hesitated a little, but finally obeyed and kicked off her shoes. She put her bare feet on the ground. The grass was still warm, warmed by the afternoon sun, and very soft, like Wilhelmina's blue velvet dress, which she loved to wear on winter visits and of which she was insanely proud. For a second, Veruca thought she was going to fall, but she managed to stay on her feet and held out her arms to Diego.…

And at that moment, music began to pour out of nowhere. Pleasant, clear as a bird's song, it shimmered and flowed like a stream — a real delight for the ears! She relaxed, and she and Diego began a romantic dance in Westside Park, under the stars and trees.

Their dance was somewhat awkward, a little drunk, but pleasant and somehow natural, as if it wasn't some kind of surprise. Numerous golden lights blurred in Veruca's eyes. The scent of flowers, honey, and just-begun summer filled her lungs like fresh sweet wine filled a crystal glass. Veruca remembered the time she and Diego had been to the Hogwarts summer festival. It smelled like summer there, too. Memories intertwined with the melody, and suddenly it dawned on her — the same music played at the disco when they won the title of the best couple of the festival! Veruca wanted to laugh, but she didn't: she didn't want to ruin such a tender and romantic moment. Diego even remembered the music they had danced to when they were only sixteen or seventeen. Did he cherish everything connected with it so much that even the music from the festival was imprinted in his memory?..

Veruca's heart ached with love and tenderness. She rested her head on Diego's shoulder. He stroked her back with his hand. The rough palms touched the soft, exposed skin of her back; it was like a tickle, like a butterfly sitting on her back, and then it fluttered up, flapped its wings, and flew away.

She was frightened, excited, and attracted by their closeness. Veruca knew better than to be afraid of Diego, and she trusted him. No, perhaps it was not he who frightened her, but the unknown, the unknown romantic expanses. She was standing right on the edge of the abyss, ready to throw herself into it. The fear was gone. Veruca wanted to do something urgently, so that they would be even closer than they were now.

Even closer. Impossibly close.

The dance was not enough.

Breathing, too.

Veruca couldn't wait any longer. She lifted her head and met Diego's warm gaze. He was looking at her, waiting for something. His hands on her body felt like living, open fire.

Veruca cupped his face in her hands, raised herself on her toes, and pressed her lips to his. And Diego returned the kiss, holding her even tighter.

Veruca froze, feeling her hands grow cold, her head burn; her lips burned as his hot and sensual mouth pressed against hers, and she went limp and soft, her heart ached sweetly in her chest and fluttered with wonder and happiness. The smell of Diego enveloped her — the smell of hot chocolate, perfume and apricot wine, his warm hands, his shirt and smooth hair. They kissed timidly, carefully, as if they might hurt each other. It was... nice. Very much so. She had never been kissed before (the cheek doesn't count), and the kiss with Diego Caplan, her beloved man, was unexpected and completely beautiful. Everything around them — the gazebo, the darkness and cool wind, the wine and food left and the music — didn't matter, because Diego was there, and she was kissing him on the lips for the first time.

Finally, they pulled away. Veruca suddenly felt weak, vulnerable, and at the same time liberated. She did it! She kissed him! She kissed Diego Caplan on the lips herself, and he answered her! She was filled with a sweet delight in herself.

Diego smiled in surprise; he seemed equally shocked and delighted. Veruca heard his voice close to her ear: "What was that, Miss McQuaid?"

"Don't you understand, Mr. Caplan?" Veruca was not left in debt. Then she lowered her voice. "I think the second time you will understand for sure."

"Oh," Diego said knowingly. His eyes flashed. "Would you like to repeat it? I'd love to, believe me."

Veruca was flushed. Merlin, she had to be so drunk to pay compliments that gave a head start to Diego Caplan, the master of compliments! She laughed nervously and started to turn away, but Diego cupped her face in his hands — just as she had done a few minutes ago — and asked softly, "Did you like it?"

She bit her lip. "Yes. And you?"

"Me, too." Diego grinned with a raise of his eyebrows. "Can we try again?"

Veruca laughed and was about to agree when he kissed her. The second kiss was bolder, less innocent. They intertwined their tongues, bit each other's lower lip, hugged, squeezed and clung tighter, embodying in this kiss all that they could not express in words, all that Veruca was so shy, and what she could not get over. Finally, this barrier was overcome.

The second kiss was followed by a third. Veruca and Diego kissed hungrily, feeling an acute lack of each other's warmth. It had been dark for a long time, and the ground was cold, but they were warm, even hot. It was hard to stop. They finally broke away from each other, disheveled and flushed, and their hot foreheads touched.

"You're the best," Diego muttered breathlessly, "woman I've ever had. I adore you."

"And you're the best man I've ever had," Veruca replied with a sly smile. "By the way, I think we have some wine left. Why don't we finish it off?"

"Food is sacred," Diego agreed, and they walked back to the gazebo, holding hands and laughing. A butterfly with bright blue wings, hiding behind one of the light bulbs, fluttered into the air and flew away into the black sky, shimmering with flashing diamond stars, into a summer night full of love...

#dieruca #diego x veruca #veruca mcquaid #diego caplan #hogwarts mystery #hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm fanfiction #hphm fanfic #post hogwarts

[btsqualityy]

Amour Vincit Omnia / Epilogue

11 Months Later / New Year’s Eve

“Kira?” Jimin called excitedly and Akira turned away from where she had been talking to her mom and brother to see Jimin jogging up to her. “You have another person who wants to talk to you about buying a piece.”

“Can’t you handle it Jimin?” Akira wondered, her feet already starting to hurt,  both from her heels and how much she had walked around Jin’s gallery even though it had only been an hour since the exhibition had started. “You know my prices.”

“The life of an in-demand artist, huh?” Jimin teased, making her laugh. “I got you though Kira.”

“Thanks Jimin,” she smiled, watching as he walked away from her before turning back to her mom and brother, who were both grinning widely. “What?”

“I’m just so proud of you,” Tonya chuckled. “You’ve been talking about the day where you’d finally have your own solo art exhibition ever since you graduated from art school and now here we are.”

“Well, none of this would be possible if it weren’t for Keem,” Akira said as she looked over at her brother, who was leaning onto his cane. After Akeem spent a few weeks in the hospital recovering, he was discharged and immediately began intensive physical therapy. It took months until he was able to even stand up on his own so he spent the first 8 months of the year in a wheelchair, which meant that he wasn’t able to walk across the stage at his high school graduation but he fully soaked up the attention that came with being wheeled across the stage instead.

“You’re damn right,” Akeem joked, hissing when Tonya smacked him in the back of the head. “If I didn’t need someone to accompany me to therapy, you would’ve never gotten that picture.” While Akeem was in the most grueling part of his physical therapy, Akira would often accompany him just to help out if need be and make sure that he was doing alright. 

One day, during his usual cool down period where he rested from pushing his body to it’s current limits, Akira caught a glimpse of him sitting in his wheelchair and staring out of a window. What amazed her was that that particular session had been really tough for him and yet, he was sitting and smiling as he simply watched squirrels chase each other around. Akira snuck a picture of him and ended up doing a watercolor painting of it which she titled “Black Boy Joy”. She posted it to her social media accounts and it ended up going viral, which subsequently led to the sudden popularity of her art. 

“Admittedly though, I never thought that that painting was gonna blow up the way that it did,” Akeem admitted and Akira nodded in agreement.

“Me either,” She smiled. “But I’m glad that it was that photo out of any of the other ones that I’ve ever done.”

“Don’t get sappy on me,” he groaned, lifting his cane and smacking her leg lightly. 

“Kira!” Akira heard someone shout and when she turned around, she saw Cassie and Hobi pushing their way through the large crowd.

“You made it!” Akira exclaimed, allowing Cassie to gather her up into a tight hug.

“You think us moving to Florida would keep me away from your big night?” Cassie scoffed playfully, making Akira smile gratefully.

“We would’ve been here sooner, but someone took forever getting dressed,” Hobi snickered and Cassie shot him a glare before looking back at Akira. 

“It’s getting hard to style this bump,” Cassie chuckled as she reached down and rubbed her 6-month baby bump. 

“How’s my god daughter doing in there?” Akira wondered as she set her hand on Cassie’s stomach.

“She’s high maintenance already,” Cassie giggled. 

“Just like her mother,” Hobi muttered. 

“You two are just in time though,” Akira announced as she looked up at the clock before Cassie was able to castrate Hobi. “It’s about time for me to give a speech.”

“Oh, we really are on time then,” Cassie giggled, and Akira flicked her arm in response. Just then, Jin clapped his hands loudly. 

“Can I have everyone’s attention please?” He said loudly, waiting until all of the chatter throughout the gallery had died down before continuing on. “My name is Kim Seokjin and I am the founder and owner of the Healing Gallery. As you’re all aware, we’re here tonight to celebrate the first solo exhibition of one of my best friends, Akira Lewis!” The crowd erupted into applause, and Jin waited until they stopped to keep talking. 

“Since this is her first solo exhibition, I’m gonna let her come up here and say what she wants to so Akira?” Jin called and Akira nodded before walking up to the front of the gallery where Jin was, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to face the large crowd.

“Ok, this crowd looks a lot larger from this viewpoint so now I’m nervous,” she admitted, making the crowd chuckle. “But I’m gonna keep this really short and sweet because all of this is still kind of surreal for me and it hasn’t completely set in yet. Firstly, I want to thank my mom Tonya and my brother Akeem, who you all might recognize from the ‘Black Boy Joy’ painting. The two of them have always supported me and my dreams and I’m very grateful to them.”

“You’re welcome!” Akeem called out, making the crowd burst out into laughter. 

“I’d also like to thank my best friends who are all over there in the corner, being embarrassing and recording this entire speech on their phones,” Akira laughed as she motioned her hand over to where Jin, Yoongi, Namjoon, Hobi, Cassie, Jimin, and Jungkook were standing. “All of them have put up with me fussing about my work at some point or another and they’ve also been there for me whenever I call them so thank you guys as well.”

“We love you Kira!” They all replied, making her smile as her cheeks heated up in embarrassment. Akira turned back to face the crowd and she couldn’t help but to notice the front door to the gallery opening as she did so, the sounds of the New Year’s Eve traffic flowing into the gallery momentarily.

“And finally, I’d like to,” Akira started to say but she paused as the stranger who had walked into the gallery took the hood of his jacket off of his head, realizing that it was Taehyung. She gasped softly but quickly regained her composure, putting on a soft smile to the rest of the crowd. “I’d like to thank the person who has been my inspiration for a while now. A lot of these pieces that you see were created thanks to them so I’m also grateful to them. Thank you all for coming out tonight and please, buy lots of pieces!” Akira laughed, making the crowd do the same as they applauded for her. 

“You did great,” Jungkook assured her as she walked over to them, and Akira smiled at him.

“Thanks for lying to me,” she replied.

“No problem,” Jungkook smirked knowingly.

“I’m so proud of you kiddo,” Yoongi whispered, sweeping her up into a hug.

“Thanks Yoongi,” she muttered, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “For everything.”

“Me too,” Namjoon spoke up and Akira let go of Yoongi before she stepped over to him, giving him a kiss on the cheek as well which made him blush intensely.

“Hey pretty girl,” Akira heard and when she turned around, Taehyung was standing right in front of her.

“You came,” she breathed out, and Taehyung smiled softly.

“I couldn’t miss your first solo show,” he chuckled, giving her his signature boxy smile. Just as Akira moved to open her mouth to reply, Jin walked over to her and touched her shoulder softly.

“You have some buyers that want to talk with you,” he told her and Akira nodded her head, even though the last thing that she really wanted to do was step away from Taehyung. “Stay and we’ll talk later?” She said as she looked back to him.

“Of course,” he nodded and she smiled softly before letting Jin lead her away.

.......................

Akira didn’t end up seeing Taehyung again during the rest of her exhibition, because a lot of the guests there took her “buy more pieces” comment very literally. By the end of the show, everyone was heading out to their respective New Year’s Eve plans. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait with you?” Akeem asked Akira as the two of them slid into their jackets. Akira’s mother had gone back to Akira’s place and Akeem was joining Akira and the rest of her friends to pregame before heading to Times Square to see the ball drop.

“Nah, you go ahead with Yoongi,” Akira assured him. “I just have a few things to tie up here and then I’ll meet you guys at Jimin’s.”

“Ok, we’ll be waiting,” he nodded, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the cheek before walking out of the gallery and meeting Yoongi outside. As Akira gathered the last of her things, she noticed Taehyung standing in front of one of her paintings. 

“Hey,” she called out as she walked over to him, making him look over his shoulder at her. “You’re still here?”

“You promised me that talk,” he shrugged and Akira couldn’t help but to laugh. He held his arms open and Akira immediately allowed herself to fall into them, hugging him tightly. “How have you been pretty girl?”

“I’ve been great, great,” she nodded before pulling away from the hug to look at him. “What about you?”

“Pretty good,” he said. “You did great tonight. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, following his gaze that was on a painting of a silhouette that she did. 

“Is this supposed to be me?” Taehyung questioned suddenly as he turned to look at her. 

“Is it that obvious?” Akira giggled.

“I mean, I know myself,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, it’s you,” she admitted.

“Ok, so does that mean I’m the person who’s been ‘inspiring you for a while now’?” He recited and Akira groaned as she nodded her head.

“I must be completely transparent,” She tutted and he shook his head.

“I kind of just put two and two together after seeing this,” he said, motioning to the silhouette painting in front of you two. “Although I’ll admit, I don’t understand how I was your inspiration when we’ve been broken up for almost a year and haven’t seen each other in nearly as long.”

“Well, you know how I stayed in Michigan after you left?” Akira said and Taehyung nodded. “I basically ended up moving back home for about six months to help my mom out with Keem and there was just so much going on, I kind of lost any motivation to paint. It actually kind of freaked me out because I’ve never experienced that.”

“You had a lot going on Kira,” he whispered and Akira smiled softly.

“Yeah well, that feeling lasted until I moved back to New York and I saw the picture of you that I had used for reference when I did that small canvas that I gave you for Christmas. Something about seeing that picture just...spurred me on and I ended up making this,” she told him, pointing to the painting of him. “It was the first time that I really took the time to think about our relationship and reflect, which is why it’s just a silhouette of you.”

“Wow,” Taehyung huffed. “The shadow of what used to be there.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, knowing that he’d understand what she meant. “But I thanked you as my inspiration because once I finished this, it’s like the fog that was hanging over my creativity was lifted and I created all of the pieces that were on display tonight afterwards. Even ‘Black Boy Joy;.”

“I’m happy for you Kira,” he replied genuinely and she smiled before looking down at the ground for a few seconds as a silence fell over the two of them. 

“I heard about your uncle,” Akira spoke up suddenly and Taehyung sighed. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Not much of a loss, really,” he chuckled bitterly. 

“I figured as much but I know that it probably felt weird and I’m sorry for not reaching out,” she replied. 

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” he shrugged. “This is probably gonna sound really bad, but it was kind of the push I needed.”

“What do you mean?” She wondered. 

“After we broke up, I didn’t know how to go about ‘finding myself’ the way that you had suggested so I just threw myself back into working and creating the new line for Vantae,” Taehyung started. “Once uncle Byun passed and I went back to Korea for the funeral, I realized that my uncle had no one at his funeral to tell any funny stories about their time with him, or how he had impacted their lives in a positive way and all I could think about was that...I didn’t want to end up like that.” 

“Taehyung,” Kira whispered, reaching out and touching his arm lightly.

“The day after the funeral, I took an extended leave of absence from Vantae and stayed home with my parents,” Taehyung smiled. “It was kind of weird at first, given the fact that I haven’t lived or spent any extended length of time with my parents since I was 18, but it was great.”

“I know that your mom was happy about that,” Akira smiled and Taehyung nodded his head while laughing.

“Oh, she was over the moon,” he grinned. “Being home for so long forced me to kind of face all of the things that I had been burying concerning my uncle and how he treated me and I ended up having what could be called a little ‘breakdown’.”

“Not surprising,” Akira muttered.

“After that, I decided to go into therapy and Dr. Kwon, that’s her name, she really helped me realize exactly how manipulative my uncle was. Just not of me, but my entire family and how that manipulation has manifested itself into my life,” he explained. 

“That’s amazing Tae,” Akira praised, and Taehyung chuckled in embarrassment. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks. Now, I’m back in New York and I just started art school at the beginning of the semester,” he revealed, making Akira gasp loudly.

“Get out of here, you serious?” She questioned with a wide grin and he nodded his head proudly. “What about Vantae?” 

“After a lot of soul searching, I decided to step down as CEO of Vantae back in August,” he said. “I’m still on the board and I’m an investor, but I don’t have to deal with day-to-day logistics and designing anymore.”

“Aw, don’t you miss it?” She wondered. “I know Vantae was your baby.”

“Actually, I don’t,” he admitted. “I love designing and creating but with me starting art school, it just showed me that I was attached to only that aspect of the Vantae and not the business part.”

“That makes sense,” Akira murmured in understanding. 

“Maybe in the future, I’ll start my own company. Something that’s truly mines and something that I can build from the ground up,” he sighed. 

“Wow,” Akira huffed. “You’re so different now.”

“Nah, not really,” he shrugged. “I just sorted through my trauma and dyed my hair back to black.”

“And that makes a lot of difference,” Akira scoffed. “The trauma part, at least.”

“Aw, you don’t like the black?” He questioned with a smirk and Akira rolled her eyes playfully.

“I loved the blue, but I guess you’re still pretty cute like this too,” she joked.

“Pretty cute,” he repeated while shaking his head. “You really know how to cut a man deep Kira.”

“Oh, shut up,” she laughed, making Taehyung do the same. Once their giggles had died down, she was left with a smile on her face. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he replied honestly. 

“What do you have planned for tonight?” She asked him suddenly.

“Nothing, was just gonna hang out at home with Yeontan,” he shrugged.

“Who’s that?”

“Oh yeah, I got a dog,” he laughed. “Forgot that part.”

“First off, I have to meet him,” Akira said seriously and Taehyung nodded his head. “Secondly, come out with us tonight instead.”

“Ah, I don’t know Kira,” he chuckled awkwardly. 

“It’ll be more fun than hanging out with your dog,” she tutted.

“Ok, Yeontan resents that,” Taehyung laughed. 

“Seriously Tae, come with us,” she pleaded. “I want you to.”

“You sure?” He wondered and Akira reached down and grabbed his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

“More than sure,” she nodded. 

“Alright,” he grinned, looking down at their hands. She led to the front door of the gallery, turning off all of the lights before dragging Taehyung out into the busy streets of New York, their hands never leaving each others. 

#bts #bangtanarmynet #bts reactions #bts series #bts v #bts taehyung #kim taehyung #v x oc #taehyung x oc #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #v smut #v angst #v fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x oc #bts imagines #bts scenarios