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queen-scribbles · 2 years

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The Long Burning Torch ch 6

Big thanks to @emeraldgreaves for help with remembering some names/descriptions for this behemoth of a chapter for my @shepherds-of-haven 20s AU. (9500 words. Have fun y’all I sure did) ---

The drive was, of course, uneventful. Wasn’t really long enough to be otherwise, though Xaeryn did peek a couple times for the car that tried to follow her on her first visit to the museum. They chatted about simple things; books they were reading, classes Red was teaching, one or two of Xaeryn’s past cases.

It was after she handed the car off to the valet and they’d been granted entry by the door staff that Xaeryn brought up one of her more mundane curiosities.

“Liefred, I’ve been wondering...” she began as she found a good spot where she could watch arrivals without being obvious about it, waiting for his soft hum of acknowledgement. “With Pan being the one who drove into the city-”

“Yes, I know how to drive, Xaer,” Red laughed. “I just don’t have much need and so don’t own a car. I asked Pan to borrow his, but when he found out why I wanted it, he asked to come along to see you and Neon. Why?”

“Just curious. With your skill at translocating, but the inherent risks of that skill, I could see it going either way.” Xaeryn settled herself between a painting of the previous autarch and a display case containing a glided lance where she had a good view of the door.

“I’m probably a tad rusty at this point,” Red conceded with a wry smile. “The other reason I let Pan drive. But I do know the basics.”

“Good to know.” Her focus was caught by an arriving cluster of guests. Time to work.

“Someone catch your eye?” Red murmured, seeing where her gaze had gone. “Or just getting a general match of faces and names?”

“The latter,” she said. “In case there’s anyone I need to talk to aside from the planned conversations, I won’t have to wander around like a fool looking for them.”

“Always covering your bases,” he said with a soft, fond laugh.

“Makes me life easier down the road,” Xaeryn shrugged with a smile. Her attention was pulled from the entrance by a flurry of rose-petal pink.

“Miss Shrike, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Miss Acquell commented brightly as she approached. She winced briefly, then smiled, pushing her spectacles back up her nose. “I’m happy to, of course, but-”

“I knew what you meant,” Xaeryn broke in gently. “Whitestone Couriers were kind enough to secure my entry so I could continue my investigation.” She gave Red’s arm a light squeeze. “And this is my friend Liefred Antiqua. He’s Headmaster of Solhadur Academy, and gracious enough to accompany me on short notice. Liefred, Shery Acquell, museum curator.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Red said holding out one hand, “and you’re welcome to call me Red.”

“Oh, charmed as well,” Miss Acquell said, shaking his hand and dropping an abbreviated curtsy that bobbed both the frills on her rosy dress and the loose curls of hair. “And you can call me Shery.” She looked up at Xaeryn, bit her lip. “Would... this investigating involve talking to guests?”

Xaeryn nodded. “There’s a couple. Ms. Aescar, for one, if she shows. But I promise to be discreet and courteous. The last thing I want, for my sake and the museum’s, is to cause a scene. I work better the less I stand out.”

“Good,” Miss Acquell sighed. “Thank you.” She looked a touch frazzled, Xaeryn noted, despite the evening having just begun.

“Everything alright, Shery?” she probed, watching for tells there was something the curator was leaving unsaid.

“Oh, this sort of event is just... a lot for me,” Miss Acquell said with a bashful laugh. “But they’re good publicity for the museum, so I’ll manage,” she smiled, adjusting her spectacles again. “Even if my assistants seem to have vanished again...” She waved a hand when Xaeryn started to speak. “I’m sure they’ll turn up. Like as not just helping new arrivals or something similar. It’ll be fine.”

“Of course it will,” Red smiled, gestured at the room, “you’ve done an excellent job with the set up, I’m sure the evening will be wonderful.”

“Thank you,” Miss Acquell said, tension easing slightly from her shoulders at the warmth in his voice. Xaeryn smiled to herself at how easily he had that effect on people. “I have some things I need to check on, but Miss Shrike, good to see you and Red, good to meet you.” She was off in a whirl before either could reply.

Red nodded toward the door, where a lavender-haired socialite and a pair of full Hunters had just arrived, heading toward the main crowd of now-assembled gentry. “I believe it’s time to mingle, Miss Shrike, so it doesn’t raise brows when you start interrogating people.”

She fought for composure past the mirth in his eyes. “I will have informative conversations, Headmaster Antiqua,” she said loftily, fighting a smile. “Just because I’m not gifted to do it as smoothly as you doesn’t mean I’ll muff it entirely.”

“I know, I know,” Red assured her with a grin. “First rate snoop and bees’ knees when it comes to digging out what you need to know.” He held out his arm. “Shall we mingle?”

“If we must,” Xaeryn sighed with only marginally exaggerated dismay, slipping her arm through his as they headed to strike up conversation.

---

The mingling went well. Having Red at her side helped polish some of the rough edges to Xaeryn’s conversational skills, and she found herself warming with only slight reluctance to the concept of small talk. When he finally broke off to go gape at an artefact that caught his eye--a gigantic sphere of green-patinaed metal--she let him go. She knew him well enough to know he’d been practically squirming with anticipation for at least ten minutes.

She turned her attention to a nearby pair of paintings. Her own artistic talents might lie more in the direction of sketching, but she did appreciate other mediums, and these were both gorgeous examples.

“Magnificent, aren’t they?” The speaker proved to be the lavender-haired socialite she’d seen entering earlier. Faint auburn roots only just peered through in a couple places, making the hair color a choice rather than gift of nature. Interesting. Not many Norms chose to associate with something so common among Diminished. “I’ve always loved her use of color,” she continued, gesturing to the paintings.

Xaeryn nodded. “As do I. She makes it a point to use light and shadow to full effect and the results are..” she glanced at the left-hand portrait, a sunrise over Haven that made her chest ache it was so well done. “...breathtaking. Are these your contribution to the exhibit, then?”

“Oh, no, darling,” the woman laughed. “My support has been strictly financial.” She toyed with her silver edged fan and smiled. “I simply noted a fellow admirer of Mme. Laryia’s works and couldn’t resist a chat.”

“It is keen to find someone with similar interests at an event like this,” Xaeryn agreed. She studied the other portrait, a dazzling depiction of light through the trees over an Elven city. Vale, maybe? It looked like artistic vision rather than one specific location.

“It is, indeed.” The fan flipped open and closed. “I believe there are more of her works throughout the exhibit, as accent to other displays.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Xaeryn said, sensing their conversation nearing its end.

That was confirmed a moment later when a man with sky blue hair swept back in a low tail approached and offered the woman a champagne flute. “Sorry for the wait, people are chatty tonight.”

“It’s alright, Rhy,” she took it with a smile, “As you can see, I managed to occupy myself.” She smiled at Xaeryn and linked her arm through her escort’s. “It was nice chatting with you.”

“And you,” Xaeryn smiled back, not at all ruffled by the dismissal. Brief and polite was how she preferred her bull sessions.

Besides, taking in the portraits had moved her close enough to not draw attention if she chose to chat with Ms. Aescar, who was currently not engaged in conversation, and she didn’t want to pass up a chance at a one on one talk with the elusive heiress. Hers had been an easy entrance to mark, even from halfway across the room--she came alone, for starters, and her dress was far more sheer than anything Haven fashion would dare offer. She’d also arranged herself in one of the more distant edges of the hall where she could see anyone approach. An instinct no doubt born of coming from the Jalis desert and honed through years of traveling solo.

She saw the moment Ms. Aescar noted her approach, and was encouraged when she didn’t act to avoid an interaction, even if she looked less than thrilled it was occurring.

“And what do you want?” Ms. Aescar asked bluntly, folding wiry muscled arms over her chest as she arched a brow at Xaeryn.

“Just a chat, Ms. Aes-”

“Ayla,” she interrupted.

“Ayla, then,” Xaeryn corrected herself, silently lamenting the number of people on this case who insisted on informality. What did they have against etiquette? “My name is Xaeryn Shrike, and I wanted to talk about your artefact in this exhibit.” She gestured at the room.

“Yeah, haven’t seen it yet, d’they do a good job with the display?” Ms. Aescar asked.

“Actually,” Xaeryn began, remembering her call to the Aescar estate, how Marja had said Ms. Aescar might not even know Solimer’s Torch was missing. “It isn’t here. It was stolen after arriving in the city and I’ve been hired to find it.”

“Oh,” Ms. Aescar grunted, her brows twitching. “Ironic after how much that Syndran fella went on about their security measures.”

“Mr. Syndran is the one who hired me,” Xaeryn said. She’d seen him and Ms. Aerin across the room but not yet had a chance to chat. “He’s doing his utmost to ensure its retrieval.”

“Thanks for that, I guess,” Ms. Aescar muttered, leaning back against the wall. “If it’s missin’, why do you wanna talk to me?”

“To see if any other attempts have been made,” Xaeryn explained, grateful for the distance from the main party for this chat. “Has anyone recently tried to buy it or steal it or anything like that?”

“I’ve had a few offers to buy it over the years,” Ms. Aescar said with a shrug. “The whole ownership mess that keeps cropping up. There was a break-in attempt Marja told me about maybe a year ago? I wasn’t home at the time. But the bastards didn’t make it inside the estate, so we dunno what they were after.”

“And were any of the purchase offers... serious?” Xaeryn probed. She glanced around the room, checking to see if their conversation was raising any eyebrows. Red was still making a slow, awestruck loop of the sphere, Mr. Syndran was chatting with Miss Acquell, but she didn’t see any ears pricked to her and Ms. Aescar.

“Couple weren’t overly keen when I turned ‘em down,” Ms. Aescar said with another shrug. “If that’s what you mean. None of ‘em were high enough to give serious consideration.”

“Hmmm. Xaeryn bit her lip. “I have to confess I’m a bit confused, then, Ayla. Ms. Aerin mentioned you were... less concerned about security than many of their clientele. Why is that, if you find the Torch too valuable to sell?”

“Not so much ‘unconcerned’ as figuring they know how to do their damn job without me stickin’ my nose in.” Ms. Aescar snorted. “Figured wrong there. My parents had an attachment to that piece before they... passed, so I hold on to it for them. I like the thought of it seein’ the world, like I do, so I let museums play host for a while each. And worryin’ about it when it’s in supposedly capable hands would keep me from enjoyin’ my trips, so I don’t worry.”

“Must be nice to travel so much,” Xaeryn said, playing with one of her earrings as memories of her own travels stirred in her mind. “I was a bit of a wanderer myself until I had to settle down to pay the bills.”

“It’s a good life,” Ms. Aescar agreed readily. “Seen some amazing places. You ever make it to the Ivory Isles?”

“No, sadly, the ticket was a bit out of my price range, but I’ve seen Courtshore, which was lovely.” She glanced around again. “No escort tonight?”

“No need,” Ms. Aescar snorted, her eyes glinting. “I can take care of myself. And unless yours is invisible, you don’t appear to have any room to talk.”

“Not invisible, just a history buff,” Xaeryn laughed, pointing at Red. “This gala is like a candy store to him, the least I can let him do for coming with me is look around.”

“Candy store you’re allowed to touch.”

“Heh, true.” Xaeryn watched Red a moment longer. biting back a smile at his enthusiasm. “Just one more question-” She stumbled to a verbal halt when she found Ms. Aescar smirking at her. “What?”

“I’ll be you two make a real cute couple,” Ms. Aescar snarked.

“Oh, we’re not... together like that,” Xaeryn fumbled as her neck grew hot. “He’s a friend.”

“You’re goggling him the same way he’s gogglin’ that statue or whatever the fuck it’s supposed to be,” Ms. Aescar informed her. “He know you’re stuck on him?”

“Hopefully not,” Xaeryn said, trying valiantly to reclaim lost dignity. She hadn’t though she was nearly so obvious. “As I was saying, Ms. Aes-”

“Ayla.”

“Ayla, I just have one more question and then I’ll leave you alone. You wouldn’t happen to recall who made any of the purchase offers on Solimer’s Torch, would you?”

“There was a warlord from Jalis I shut down damn quick,” Ms. Aescar replied promptly, “Couple collectors, one or two mutis tryin’ to claim ownership made offers before they started raisin’ a ruckus ‘bout it actually being theirs.”

“Who?” Xaeryn asked, mentally crossing her fingers. Depending on passage of time, this might be something of a long shot.

“One of those fuckers fighting over the island in the south-”

“Elinden?” Xaeryn offered, mental fingers crossed even harder.

“Yeah, that one. I think the other’n is somewhere east? But they don’t have much of a claim and didn’t make much of an offer, so I didn’t have them figured for serious and didn’t hang on to the name. We done?”

“Yes. Thank you, very much, for the enlightening conversation, Ayla.”

“Yeah, sure, hope it helps you find my artefact.”

“I’m fairly positive it will,” Xaeryn said, and hurried for a corner where she could scribble out some notes. Standing as she’d been to chat up Ms. Aescar, there hadn’t been a way to take them as she talked.

“Industrious as always, I see,” Ms. Aerin commented, coming to a stop by the bench where Xaeryn had settled for her task. Between her heels and her posture, she almost seemed to loom, which was an... interesting reversal.

“I am here to work,” Xaeryn pointed out. “Enjoying the party” --or at least its locale-- “is a bonus, but the job comes first.” She filled a page with shorthand notation before flipping the notepad closed.

“Did you fill the other one so fast?” Ms. Aerin asked.

She frowned. “Pardon?”

“Your notebook,” Ms. Aerin nodded to the red-bound pad as Xaeryn slipped it in her clutch. “It’s new. Did you really fill the other so quickly?”

Now Xaeryn’s brows arched toward her hairline. She knew the woman was sharp-eyed, but the brief glimpse still wouldn’t have been enough for most to notice. “Impressive catch, and no, I didn’t fill it. My handbag was stolen.”

“The red is a bit more eye-catching a color than previous,” Ms. Aerin brushed off the praise with a furrowing brow. “And do you mean to tell me some... rapscallion out there now has all your notes?!”

“Only if he didn’t discard them as worthless,” Xaeryn said dryly. “Even if he could read my shorthand, I can’t imagine I have anything recorded that would interest a dip.”

“Ah, yes, your little trick to ensure no one but you reads your notes,” Ms. Aerin said, adjusting her bracelets. “I’m even more grateful for it now.”

“Well, me and Red,” Xaeryn reminded, with a vague wave toward where she’d seen him. “I’m surprised you would forget that, since it was of such concern to you that your trade secrets stay secrets.”

“I have a lot on my plate, as you know, Detective Shrike,” Ms. Aerin said tartly. “I was swayed by your assurances our secrets would be safe. Should I have believed differently?”

“Not at all,” Xaeryn said. “None of them will escape as a result of this.”

“Glad to hear it, Detective.” Ms. Aerin flashed a distracted smile and glanced across the room. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to check on some things with Miss Acquell. And I’m certain you have more to do.”

“Of course. Good to see you, Ms. Aerin.”

“And you, Detective Shrike.”

They parted, and Xaeryn decided it would be wise to check back in with Red before she continued her mingling. He was, despite the length of her absence, still staring at the large sphere that had caught his eye.

“Must be quite a find to hold your interest for this long,” she teased, coming to stand next to him.

“This is a Worldwalker artefact, Ryn,” he replied, not looking away from his study of the etching that covered the surface. “I’d give my left arm and my tenure to have a month to study it.”

Xaeryn smiled, heart skipping a beat as she watched him him. Like a kid at Wintersun, she thought fondly. “You could talk to Shery, you know. And if the museum was amenable to it being studied, I doubt she would require so hefty a payment.”

“Just my left arm, then?” Red joked, though the sparkle in his eyes when he looked at her made her wonder if he half-meant it. “Might be worth it.” He turned to face her fully. “Did you need me for something?”

“No,” Xaeryn shook her head, “just wanted to see how you were doing, maybe talk to someone I know and like for a minute.”

He chuckled. “I’ll happily fill some of your time, Xaer. How go the informative conversations?”

Her heart skipped again, trying not to think about Ms. Aescar’s comment. “Very informative, actually. There have been parties interested in the torch, including the one you mentioned I should look into.”

“That is informative,” he agreed, offering her his arm. She slipped hers through without a second thought, and they started a turn around the room. Leisurely pace, looking at artefacts as they walked. “You have an awful lot pointing in the same direction, then.”

“I do, indeed.” She glanced over toward King Kaza of Elinden, currently engrossed in chatting with a politician she vaguely recognized--Jarreth, Jarket, something like that, his pink-haired companion standing close but her eyes clearly alight at the pageantry involved in a gala. “Now I just need a chance to talk to him. I feel like he wouldn’t take kindly to an interruption.”

“Suppose you’ll have to talk to me longer, then,” Red said with a wink as they slowed by a display case housing a beautiful, broken silver javelin. “If you think you can manage it.”

“I’ll find a way to muddle through,” Xaeryn laughed. As if you aren’t the only one here I really want to talk to. “Surrounded by this much history, I’m sure we can mange one of those hours-long talks we had in school.” Her brow furrowed when she read the display placard. “A hraqa?!”

Red’s brows arched and he studied the weapon with new intensity. “I didn’t think Hunters let those leave their side, let alone out of the Reach.”

“We don’t,” a gravelly, melodic voice said from nearby. “We were not given a choice in this instance.”

She looked up from the case, and then more to meet the gaze of the Hunter standing nearby, one of the pair she’d seen enter near the gala’s start, as if guarding the case. “How so?”

“This was taken as a prize of conquest during the Castigation,” the Hunter said grimly. “My family has spent generations trying to trace it, so it can be returned where it belongs. We finally learned of its inclusion in this... exhibit” --there was a barely noticeable trace of disdain on the word-- “with just enough time to attend and see what will be required to reclaim something that should never have left our care in the first place.” He caught himself with a faint grimace and inclined his head. “Forgive my manners. Sola Naolin Prince.” The words were paired with a shallow formal bow.

Xaeryn and Red introduced themselves in turn. “Are you planning to speak with the museum curator, then?”

Naolin gave a stiff nod. “And whomever else I need to; I understand this location is but one stop of many, so the decision may not rest entirely in her discretion.”

“You would be correct,” Xaeryn said. “Her authority only extends to which things are on display here and how. Though these are deeply personal weapons for you, aren’t they? You could petition for it to be removed from display while you speak with whoever claims ownership.”

In her periphery, she caught Red’s lips twitch toward a smile at her phrasing before he spoke. “I’d imagine it would be easier to repatriate than some things. Even with the... limited familiarity of Hunter customs, it’s known hraqa are sacred.” He frowned slightly. “I’m honestly surprised they would display it at all.”

“So I noticed,” Naolin said dryly, a touch of cynicism in his tone. “As you said, most don’t know much about our culture. I imagine a clever liar could spin a tale that would override any hesitance on the part of a curator. I do hope you’re correct that it will be a smooth process to reclaim, I shouldn’t be away from my duties as sola for long.” There was something in his silvery eyes that spoke to not letting that hope run too rampant, all the same. “Until I have opportunity to speak with someone, however, I intend to ensure this hraqa is afforded as close to its due respect as possible.”

“Admirable,” Xaeryn said, examining the hraqa again. There was an ancient, evocative beauty to its design. She could see how curators could be persuaded to display it. “Best of luck in your reclamation efforts, Sola Naolin. We won’t distract you any longer, but it was good chatting with you.”

“And you as well,” Naolin said with a formal half-bow.

Xaeryn and Red moved off, still arm in arm.

“You really think it’ll be that easy for him to get it back?” she asked idly, half-smiling as they passed the case with the necklace Thieves Guild had been planning to steal.

“You don’t?” Red returned, shooting her a curious look.

“It might be less trouble than the mugs trying to claim the torch are having, just because there’s precedent for hraqas being culturally relevant and highly personal, bordering on religious, for Hunters. Arguing for its return to the Reach, to the people, won’t be hard. But if the person currently holding ownership finds a way to insist it be passed to an heir rather than the people as a whole if it’s so personal, they could muddy the waters and make it a good deal more difficult to untangle. Life’s not all berries, Liefred.”

“It’s not all rocks and hardship, either, Ryn,” he said with a fond smile that made her bite her lip. “I know the Hunters have kept themselves somewhat isolated since the Castigation and that makes them a bit more of a grey area than, say, Mages, but something like a hraqa has enough known significance they should be able to argue for the sol taking responsibility until the bloodline can be traced, if necessary.”

“Mm.” She did think he was being a trifle optimistic, but he also made a good point. “I’m sure that Shery would remove it from display, at least, if he asked. Spare having so intimate an aspect of their culture out there for the world to see.”

Red’s lips parted as if to say something, then he pressed them together and shook his head faintly. His attention was caught a moment later by a glass case displaying a trio of ancient tomes and their conversation was forgotten. “Is that what I think it is?!”

Xaeryn bit back a laugh as he tugged her along, grateful he remembered to walk instead of bolt over. “If you think it’s the collected work of Weyellan the Lifegiver, it appears the answer is yes.”

He flashed an almost sheepish smile as they slowed close to the case. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” she smiled. A glance across the room showed King Kaza finally done his conversation with the politician. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said, slipping her arm free, and couldn’t resist teasing a little. “Try not to leave nose prints on the glass.”

Red laughed and ran one hand through his hair. “I’ll do my best, but no promises.”

She clicked her tongue quietly and used her fingers to fix the tousled state of his hair before leaving. It was hard to miss the twinkle in his eye, and she wondered if that was over her actions, or the case full of old books.

To work again. Xaeryn shook off the thoughts as she approached King Kaza. His posture bore out accounts she’d read alluding to his arrogance, and he surveyed the room with hard eyes even as he leaned over to murmur in his companion’s ear. There was a sharpness, a cunning in those eyes that warned her to tread carefully in this conversation.

She inclined her head respectfully as soon as her approach caught his eye. “Would I have the honor of addressing King Kaza Akshin, the Lightning-Cutter?” she asked, softening her tone to rather more awed than she actually felt.

He smirked, brows arched as he gave a magnanimous nod. “You would. It is gratifying to see my name has spread so far.”

“It has certainly done that,” Xaeryn said. “How are you finding the gala?”

King Kaza’s mouth twisted into a frown. “Far more frivolous and shallow than anything we would host in Elinden,” his companion nudged him and he shot her a stormy look before continuing, “but I can see why the glamor would attract a crowd such as this. Very fancy.”

“Some people enjoy fancy parties. Highness,” his companion interjected, grimacing a little as she hastened to include the honorific.

“And when did I say I did not?” the king returned with a hard-edged chuckle. “Different as it may be, there is much to be enjoyed even here.” He gestured at the hall, sweeping to include exhibits and guests alike. “Such a display of wealth. So many potential alliances.”

“Is that why you’re here, then?” Xaeryn asked, toying with her necklace. “Looking for allies? I understand there’s still... turmoil in Elinden, and this would be a good crowd in which to find support. Wealthy, as you said, and... willing to contribute to something they find worthwhile.”

King Kaza’s eyes gleamed. “Very astute, Miss...” He arched a brow as the words trailed off.

“Forgive me, Circe Blackwood,” Xaeryn introduced herself. Something about the man--his reputation, the hardness of his eyes--cautioned she keep some cards close. An ace up her sleeve, as it were. “I’m glad you see something of value in this crowd. They are, after all, the reason this gala is occurring; contributors and financiers of a truly valuable celebration of culture and history. Always a smart thing to remember where we came from.”

“And which of those would you be, Circe?” There was challenge under the curiosity in the pink-haired woman’s voice.

“Oh, neither, Miss...?” Xaeryn laughed lightly to disguise the searching once-over.

“Stormbreaker,” King Kaza replied before she opened her mouth. “My escort. Bodyguard, you would say. And what do you mean, neither?”

“I find things.” It was, technically, not a lie. Xaeryn refrained from commenting on the irony of someone known as Lightning-Cutter having a bodyguard named Stormbreaker. “I’ve helped the museum and a few others here locating things they sought.” Slightly closer to a lie, as that contract wasn’t past tense yet. “Do you need help finding anything? I’m very good at my job.”

King Kaza chuckled mirthlessly. “The only things I have sought I have found.”

“Lucky for you,” Xaeryn said with a wry laugh. Had pride flickered in his eyes with the comment? She definitely caught a muscle twitch in Stormbreaker’s jaw. “You can enjoy the party, take in the sights” --she gestured to the cases-- “maybe make some friends that will come in handy.”

“What do you know of Elinden’s situation, Miss Blackwood?” the king asked with a keen look. “To comment friends coming in handy?”

“Powerful friends always come in handy,” she deflected, bobbing her head toward the politician he’d been chatting with earlier. She toyed with her necklace and parsed through what she’d learned for an answer that wouldn’t make him antsy. “I know Elinden’s been in a... multi-faction civil war for a while, that you claimed the throne, and that at least one other faction vocally challenges you.”

“More like three,” Kaza said, holding up fingers to emphasize. “This is why I seek friends; if other nations will recognize my claim, perhaps that will silence the dissenters. And, if not, perhaps it will give me in-roads to places more accepting of my authority.”

“Wise to play the angles,” Xaeryn said with a nod, watching Stormbreaker’s hands flex at her sides. “I hope you’ll also have time for a look around. With so many rare and beautiful things under one roof, surely there’s something to dazzle and catch your eye.”

“I am intrigued by the artefacts from Jalis, true.” The king tipped his head toward that portion of the room. “Quite striking that a number of their designs bear similarity to those of my home.”

“Perhaps a common ancestor?” Xaeryn suggested.

“Perhaps,” King Kaza shrugged. “But I have taken enough of your time, Miss Blackwood.”

“Oh, I always enjoy talking to keen folks like yourself, highness,” she said with a laugh. A flicker of movement caught her eye; Red was done examining the books and was heading her way. “But I do see my partner looking for me, so I’ll leave you to it.” She nodded a semi-formal farewell and turned to head for Red. She hadn’t said anything about a possibility of false names and needed him in the know before anyone chatted him up.

“Good talk?” he asked as they drew near, slowing to offer her his arm.

“Positively enlightening,” Xaeryn said with a smile, slipping her arm through his and taking the opportunity to lean in close. “If he or his companion strike up a conversation, I’m Circe Blackwood, I find things, and you’re my partner.”

“Do I get to contribute to this backstory?” Red laughed, taking it in stride.

“Any way you like,” Xaeryn replied lightly. “In fact, I’m curious to see what your creative prowess can do.”

That got a chuckle. “I’ll see what I can come up with. For now, are we mingling more...?”

“Maybe a bit,” she said with a sigh. “But I’d rather just take in the exhibit. I haven’t seen as much of it as you with all the bumping gums.”

Red smiled. “Need a break from people?”

“That’s about the size of it,” she nodded ruefully. “At least from making them my focus.”

“Say no more.” He winked and steered her toward a section of displays garnering far less attention than the ones at the front of the large room.

“Do you even know what’s over here?” Xaeryn asked with a laugh.

“No, but I know it’s old and likely from far away, so I’m pretty sure we’ll find it at least a little interesting.”

“Point,” she grinned. The first case proved to be of more interest to her; journals of the first High Augar appointed post-Castigation, as well as a few preserved vestments. Red didn’t wander off, however, his arm comfortably looped through hers until they moved on to the next case. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“For what?” Red shot her a curious look.

“You know...” Probably best not to mention his feelings toward the One-God’s church in the seat of that faith, surrounded by wealthy and powerful adherents. “Being available to help on such short notice. I know social events are something you enjoy, but I did ask very last minute.”

“And like I said, I always have time for you, Xaer,” he said with a boyish smile. “Besides, the chance to see all these artefacts was too good to pass up.”

“Oh, of course,” Xaeryn laughed, warmth twisting in her chest at the sight of his dimple. “How silly of me to think Liefred Antiqua would ever skip the chance to be in a room full of historic relics.”

Red shrugged, smile turning wry. “Guilty as charged.” He cast an admiring look at the next case, slowing to take in the engraved script that decorated the warhammer it held. “Ryn, I wanted to ask-”

“Enjoying the gala, Miss Shrike?”

Xaeryn swiveled to face the interruption, forcing a polite smile. “Yes, but not enough to forget my snooping, Mr. Syndran, no worries.”

He glanced between her and Red and the corner of his mouth twitched. “I apologize for interrupting and do trust your methods, I merely wanted to check if your time has paid off this evening.”

“Very well,” she said, catching his almost vampiric grin at her glance toward King Kaza. “Definitely making progress. Didn’t Miss Aerin pass that along? I spoke to her earlier.”

“Aerin’s been... a bit distracted this evening. She handled most of the logistics to set this up and I think she keeps forgetting it’s out of her hands and into the museum’s.” He brushed something off the sleeve of his jacket. “As I’m sure your office would be a better place for a detailed discussion, shall I come by tomorrow morning? I’m very interested in a full accounting of what you learned tonight.”

“Nine o’clock should work for me,” Xaeryn said, making a rapid guesstimate how much sleep she’d need and when she’d get home tonight.

“Excellent. I’ll see you then.” With a final sharp nod, Mr. Syndran took his leave.

“No introductions, Xaer?” Red whispered playfully.

She snorted a laugh. “A thousand pardons for trying to get the business conversation done as fast as I could. If you drop by my office while Mr. Syndran is there, I’m sure he’d love to meet my research assistant.” That earned her a laugh and she had to clear her throat to stave off the rising warmth in response. “What... What were you about to ask?”

“Ah.” Something hesitant, almost bashful, crept across Red’s features before a warm smile returned. He gestured with his free hand toward the back end of the hall, and the glaringly open space she’d been trying to ignore all night because it made her pulse spike. “Do you... want to dance?”

Her better judgment, struggling to hold years of unspoken sentiment at bay, immediately insisted it was a bad idea. She would let slip something she shouldn’t, make things awkward, lose a friend. She’d been worried about the risk of this very scenario, remember?

She did remember. She’d also never managed to tell Red Antiqua no in her life and didn’t really want to start now. Not when he was looking at her like that; all boyish grin and twinkle in his eyes. She’d been right, she wasn’t strong enough. “Sure.”

The boyish grin widened, the twinkle looked almost like relief for a moment before returning to mischief. “Well, then...” he slipped his arm free of hers and offered his hand instead.

Sun above, she tried to keep her breathing steady as she slid hers into it, but the familiar, lightly callused warmth seemed to shoot straight up her arm to her chest, burning as it went.

Their timing was excellent; the musicians just transitioning between songs as they reached the edge of the dance floor, the singer humming along with the introductory notes before she reached the lyrics. The new tune was something slower, just shy of mid-tempo, and Xaeryn was pleased at the prospect of of enjoying a more leisurely, platonic dance with her best friend.

“Has focusing on work helped make this more bearable?” Red asked as they joined the scattering of other couples for the new dance. “I know you’re usually not keen on this much socializing.”

She laughed, trying to ignore the strains of the lyrics starting, as they undermined attempts to think platonic thoughts.. ‘I must confess that I like you, but there is something amiss...’

“It has, actually. All the fascinating artefacts and history, as well, though nothing so much as having a good friend along for emotional support.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s my good fortune I have one who could come, especially since he keeps turning heads and distracting people from what I’m up to.”

Red blushed at the teasing and shook his head. “You sure they aren’t looking at you, Ryn?” The dance brought them closer together and he smiled. “I know we made light of it earlier, but you do look lovely.” Nothing in the world existed outside the sincerity shining in his green eyes. “I’m sure some of the turning heads are for you.”

A small, breathless chuckle escaped her, face hot from more than the lights and dancing. “Thank you. I likewise meant it when I said you look handsome.” She smiled. “Much as the rumpled professor look suits you, I like this one, too.” Xaeryn toyed with the lapel of his jacket. “I haven’t seen you this dolled up since...”

“The graduation dance,” he finished when memory made the words trail off.

‘...I know some who are always on the go, but here’s what I like best...’

Before we left. After a few moments of following the steps without speaking, Xaeryn asked softly, “Why didn’t we keep in touch?”

Red sighed. “We meant to, didn’t we?” he said, just as softly. The music slowed, as did their movements to match. “I suppose it was a combination of neither having a travel itinerary beyond see the world, so we never knew where to send letters, and then everything with Tevanti...”

“Guess I was lost to the great wide somewhere by the time you got bolted to one place, wasn’t I?” she conceded wryly. A moment’s weighty hesitation and she confessed, more to his tie than him, “I almost stopped by Solhadur a few years ago.” Red’s hand twitched tighter around hers as she continued. “On my way to Haven, once I came to grips with needing to settle somewhere and earn a steady living.”

“Why.. Why didn’t you?” Red asked quietly.

Xaeryn lifted her gaze back to meet his. “Figured everyone was gone. I knew you wanted to travel, thought Pan and Neon and everyone would’ve found jobs and lives elsewhere. That’s how graduations go, isn’t it? Everyone splits to the four winds? In the end, wandering the ground and bumping gums with Tevanti wasn’t enough draw to pull me from my course.”

He chuckled. “Very you. Once you set your mind to something, there’s not much that can derail you.”

She laughed, then tugged his arm to move them off the dance floor as they’d they’d slowed even beyond the tempo of the music and walking was probably better. ‘...Fold me in your arms, it’s your affection I crave...’

“It makes me a good detective,” she said lightly. “...If I’d known you were there, I would’ve come by.” No need to mention how much she’d missed him, but, “It would have been nice to reconnect earlier.”

“It would have,” Red agreed, then smiled warmly and squeezed her hand. “But we managed it anyway, and I’m happy with that.”

One-God, but it was warm in here. “Me, too,” Xaeryn smiled back. There was something in his smile that made her stomach do an extra flip, but even as she opened her mouth to say something undoubtedly foolish, a flash of pink and blue caught her eye and she was reminded--brutally--that she was here to work.

King Kaza’s bodyguard was heading for one of the side doors. Her stride and manner were casual enough, but there was a determination to her path obvious to a trained eye.

Xaeryn sighed. Two more minutes, couldn’t I have two more minutes?

“What?” Red frowned at her shift in demeanor.

“I see a lead I need to follow before I lose it.” She bit her lip in calculated thought, then tugged out her keys and shoved them into his hand. “Take my car back to the office.”

“What?! Wh-”

“If someone think my being here is hinky, me disappearing while you’re still around will confirm their suspicions, but if we’re both gone it just means we left. I’ve chatted up everyone I need to anyway, I shouldn’t be more than an hour behind you.”

“Xaer, I’m not leaving you a-”

“I can take care of myself, Liefred.” Stormbreaker was almost out of the room. Xaeryn curled Red’s fingers around the keys and caught his eye. “Trust me.”

He sighed but nodded and headed for the front door. Xaeryn waited long as she dared, then headed after Stormbreaker.

The museum was dark, of course, outside the area where the gala was being held, dimmed lights every half dozen feet the only illumination. Stormbreaker’s silhouette was easy to follow, the shadows deep enough to mask Xaeryn’s progress. The only potential difficulty was distance, some turns were close enough together she could lose the woman if she wasn’t careful. Xaeryn slipped off her necklace and headband as she went, tucking them in her handbag so the glint wouldn’t betray her. She was three or four turns into following with a long straight hallway ahead when voices to the side caught her attention.

She hesitated, torn between the risk of losing Stormbreaker and concern over a possible ambush. It only took half a second for the latter to win. She didn’t want to deal with an unknown element behind her; those rarely ended well. The door concealing the muffled, sporadic chatter was slightly ahead to her left. With one last glance toward Stormbreaker’s progress, Xaeryn eased up to the door. It bore an employees only placard but the knob was unlocked when she tested. There was another beat of chatter, quiet but heated, that hinted whoever was in the room beyond was oblivious to her presence. She twisted the knob and pulled the door open in one smooth motion.

The two figures in the room--a lanky Norm and tiny Elf--jumped to their feet as if electrocuted by her entrance, then shuffled in a belated attempt to hide the playing cards splayed atop an upside down bucket.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the Norm blurted, crossing his arms defensively.

Xaeryn arched a brow, letting her gaze drifted deliberately over their uniforms and the keys hanging at his belt. “Nor are you, currently, I suspect,” she returned coolly. “Aren’t you meant to helping with the gala? This is awful far removed.”

“Yeah, but it’s boring, and there isn’t much needs doing anyway,” the Elf muttered, sweeping auburn hair out of her eyes.

“Curator Acquell would beg to differ,” Xaeryn said, letting her tone go downright frosty. “Get back to work or I will tell someone who will make you care to do so.”

She withdrew and returned to her pursuit without waiting to see if they listened, but smirked when she heard the scuffle of footsteps headed back toward the main hall behind her.

Stormbreaker was, of course, gone from view even with her minimizing the delay. Xaeryn muttered a mild oath under her breath and headed in the direction she’d last seen the woman, but there was neither hide nor hair to be found. She still spent some time checking different halls and rooms in dwindling hope of finding some trace before giving up. Something to follow up on another day. Resigned she’d done everything she could, Xaeryn headed back to the main hall, planning to exit properly out the front door. She waved farewell to Shery from across the room, gratified to see her assistants were helping her now, and headed out of the museum.

She’d barely made it past the pool of light that bathed the front entrance when a shadow to her right moved.

Fortunately, Xaeryn was on edge enough from the evening’s events to dodge and block the attacker, shifting back until she reached a nearby street light.

“Oh, good instincts on ya, then,” the bruno sneered, light glinting off metal in one hand. “If only they’d told ya to leave well enough alone.”

He lunged at her again and Xaeryn let her handbag drop to catch his wrist. She twisted the knife away from her and followed up with a punch to the face. The knife clattered to the sidewalk and the man growled something uncomplimentary as he swung at her in turn.

She dodged the full strength of the blow, but it still grazed her cheek with enough force to smart and make her stumble. So she punched him again. Then pivoted to drive her other elbow into his sternum hard enough she heard something crack. He dropped with a wheeze. Xaeryn barely paused long enough to collect her handbag and his knife before heading swiftly toward her office, face and hand pounding in time with her heart.

The hand was obvious; red oozing from her knuckles after landing two such hefty blows. She tugged out a handkerchief as she walked and wrapped her bleeding knuckles. She had a first aid kit, in her apartment, she could treat it properly there. This would do for now.

---

Her door had never been so welcome a sight, and Xaeryn let out a sigh of relief as she opened it.

Red sat slouched in one of the extra chairs by her bookshelf, bowtie undone and jacket off. His head came up as the door opened and he almost dropped the book he was reading when the state she was in registered. For half a second, Xaeryn thought he was going to vault the desk instead of circling it to reach her.

“Gods, Ryn, are you alright?!” he demanded, skirting the desk and reaching her in just a few long strides. He caught himself just before his hand grazed the bruise decorating her left cheek, and rested it on her shoulder instead.

“I’m fine,” she said, at the same moment his gaze dropped to the handkerchief wrapped around her hand, the white fabric a sharp contrast to her dark skin. “Mostly,” she amended with a weak smile. She pushed the door closed and set her clutch and the knife on the corner of the desk.

Red gave her a skeptical look, his other hand curling loosely around her wrist. “Do you have...?”

“In the kitchen,” she nodded toward the half-open door.

“Come on.” Red gently tugged her that direction, firmness in his voice that made her smile widen. He nudged one of the chairs out with his foot and let go of her arm only after he was sure she was settled, then dragged the other chair closer, dropping into it as he turned over her injured hand. “Let me see.”

“It’s not that bad,” Xaeryn mumbled, even as she winced at the cloth tugging against half-dried blood.

Red arched a brow at her, looked down significantly at her bloodied knuckles, and swallowed hard before he spoke. “What happened?”

“Oh, someone apparently doesn’t want me finding Solimer’s torch,” she said, trying for a light tone, but clearly falling short from his expression.

“Xaeryn,” he said softly.

Amazing how he could fit a whole lecture--no, that was uncharitable, a speech--into just her name. Red had always been a worrier. It shouldn’t surprise her. She supposed it didn’t, really. (Felt nice to be worried about, though.)

“I handled it,” Xaeryn promised, fingers curling as his thumb brushed the heel of her hand. She cleared her throat. “First aid supplies are top left cabinet. The green tin.”

He nodded, still staring at her hand, then tore his gaze away and stood to retrieve the supplies. “Right...”

“At least I don’t have to worry about you being able to reach them,” she teased as she watched him. It did make him smile, even if it didn’t reach his eyes.

Red set the tin on the table, shoved his sleeves up past his elbows and started pulling out what he needed to treat her hand. They sat in silence as he cleaned off half-dried blood, swabbed the skinned knuckles with antiseptic, bandaged it up. It wasn’t until he was smoothing the final layer of bandages and tucking in the end that he spoke. “So, planning to tell me what happened?”

Xaeryn shifted in the chair, kicking off her shoes, but made no move to pull her hand free. “There was a, ah, tough waiting for me outside the museum. He tried to stab me, so I did the only thing that made sense.”

“Called for help?” Red drawled, shooting her a fondly scolding look.

“Punched him in the face.” She coughed delicately. “Twice.”

“Xaeryn.”

She gave him a gentle smile as she reminded, “I can take care of myself, Liefred.”

He ran his thumb over her bandaged knuckles. “How many times will I have to remind you you can call me Red?” he asked softly, not letting go of her hand.

Xaeryn had to swallow hard before she could speak, staring at her hand cradled in his. “At least one more,” she said just as softly, then looked up, immediately caught in his deep green eyes. She hadn’t realized how close they were sitting until now, knees practically touching. “Or I might do something dreadfully improper.” That I won’t regret in the slightest.

Red bit his lip, hesitated as he leaned the barest fraction closer. His thumb brushed over the pulse point in her wrist as he murmured, “Like what?”

She flicked an inadvertent glance at his lips before dragging her gaze back up to meet his once more. “You’re a smart man. I think you can guess.”

“I-”

The heavy, carefree footsteps only gave them a half second’s warning before knuckles rapped wood and the office door creaked. “Red? Xaer? Hope you two are back with the door hanging open...”

Xaeryn flinched at the sound of Pan’s voice, wondered if she imagined the irritation-adjacent flicker in Red’s eyes, and cleared her throat. “In here, Pan.” She turned her hand to give Red’s a light squeeze before slipping free.

“Sorry I’m ahead of schedule, Neon has an early shift tomor-” Pan cut himself off when he reached the doorway and caught sight of them. “Gods’ blood, Ryn, what happened?!”

“Someone objects to my current investigation,” she said dryly. “There was a scuffle. But I’m fine, and you should see the other guy.”

Red shot her a suspicious look. “You just said you punched him in the face.”

“I also elbowed him in the chest hard enough I heard something break. On him, not me,” she clarified when he started to open his mouth.

Red dropped his head into his hands with a loud sigh, then raked his fingers through his hair.

Xaeryn and Pan shared a look that was just shy of a snicker.

“Least he won’t be following you any time soon,” Pan drawled, then smirked looking at how close the two of them were sitting. “And so fortuitous you had someone to help patch you up.”

Xaeryn bit her lip hard. “It would have been much trickier to do this one-handed, yes,” she said, flexing the fingers of her bandaged hand and hoping exhaustion overwhelmed any other emotion in her voice. “I’m lucky to have Liefred around.”

Red shrugged, the faintest hint of pink climbing his neck. “It wasn’t that hard, Ryn. I’m happy I could help.”

Pan’s smirk widened and he gestured back over his shoulder with one hand. “That knife on your desk come from the loser of your scuffle?”

Xaeryn nodded as she pushed to her feet. “Didn’t seem wise to leave a weapon nearby, even if he was in no shape to use it.”

Pan scoffed and moved out of the doorway so she could step back into the office, Red close enough behind her some might call it hovering. It was a long shot there would be anything helpful or identifying about the knife, but it couldn’t hurt to look. She hadn’t taken time to examine it yet, with the scuffle and the Red-patching-her-up moment.

She picked it up to do so now, and almost dropped it immediately in surprise.

“What’s wrong?” Red and Pan asked in unison, Red reaching out in support.

“This... is mine,” Xaeryn said slowly, trying to believe her goosebumps were from the coincidence and not his fingers brushing her elbow as she ran a more critical look over the dagger to confirm.

“How the hael is that possible?” Pan demanded, brow furrowed.

She winced in anticipation of Red’s reaction to the words. “My handbag got nicked a couple days ago-”

“Xaer-!”

She held up a hand to curtail Red’s outburst. “-and this is the dagger I carried in there for protection. We’ve been having a bit more trouble with dips and such spreading from Ashtown; I didn’t figure it was anything more than that. But now...” She scowled at the blade.

It was possible--but unlikely--the pickpocket who took her bag had dumped everything but the money and this thug found the knife and kept it. That, however, strained credulity for her.

“What else did you lose?” Red asked, leaning against her desk. He was doing a good job not fussing, she could see the strain of worry in his eyes.

“Little money, maybe a few incidentals.” She flashed a wry smile. “My notepad.”

His brows jumped toward his tousled hair. “You lost all your notes?!”

Xaeryn nodded. “I bought a new one, rewrote what I remember, but I know it’s not everything.”

He bit his lip in thought. “When we get back I can collect what I found for you, pass it along again?”

“I can’t ask-”

“You’re not, Ryn, I’m offering,” Red said firmly. He smiled and gave her elbow a light squeeze. “I only have one class tomorrow afternoon, and most of the books should still be close together. It would hardly be any trouble.”

She gave him a searching look, knowing he’d offer even if it was a lot of trouble. He met her look and held it steadily and she caved. “Liefred, you’re a lifesaver.” Again. I’m going to owe you so big. (But she wouldn’t. And she she knew it.)

Pan cleared his throat and they both jumped a little at the reminder he was still there. “On that note, I should probably get Mr. Lifesaver back to our hotel so we can get a good night’s sleep before heading home tomorrow.”

“Oh. Yes.” Xaeryn rubbed the back of her neck. “Wouldn’t want you falling asleep at the wheel.” She hesitated a moment, then, “You are planning to swing by before you leave, right?”

“Of course,” Red spoke up before Pan could, “we have to say proper goodbyes.”

Not to mention they had something to discuss.

“Of course,” Pan echoed, with just a hint of shit-eating grin as he clapped a hand to Red’s shoulder and started steering him toward the door. “G’night, Ryn. Glad you’re alright.”

She chuckled. “Me, too. Good night, Pan, good night, Liefred.”

He gave her a soft smile. “Night, Xaer.”

And then they were gone, and the full exhaustion of adrenaline letdown hit her in a rush. Xaeryn slumped against her desk and ran one hand down her face. “God, what a night,” she mumbled, then almost laughed when she noticed Red had forgotten his tuxedo jacket, still draped over a chair.

He can get it tomorrow, she rationalized, too tired to chase them down the stairs.

Tonight had been... eventful was underselling it, and she just wanted to sleep. She couldn’t stop a smile as she changed into her pajamas, despite lingering soreness. Xaeryn looked down at her bandaged hand, and a swirl of wall-cracking uncertainty cut through her high spirits.

I almost kissed my best friend, she thought as she tumbled into bed. She known tonight would be a test, but she thought she was stronger than that.

It only made things more confusing that he’d seemed ready to kiss her back.

But it was closing in on midnight, and she had a meeting tomorrow, so Xaeryn pushed those thoughts away so she could sleep.

Or tried to.

----

(TRUST ME, no one is more irritated about Pan interrupting them than Pan. xD He and Neon have been trying to very subtly play matchmakers for over a decade, he very much wants to smack himself right now xD but he’s also gonna tease Red like, a lot. bc what’re friends for?)

Lavinet’s companion is my Rhyler, who’s romancing her whenever I have time to pick him back up again rip

The song playing while they dance is Hold Me by Art Hickman & his orchestra, one of those “cribbed from the MFMM episode credits” songs I’ve been hanging onto xD

I’ve been sitting on that patching-up scene for so long oh my GOD I’m glad it’s out there now

#queens fic #shoh #xaeryn shrike #red antiqua #ryn/red

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anlian-aishang · 2 years

Text

Kinktober Day 20: Innocence Kink & Dom-Levi

“Can i request a Levi x reader smut (preferably modern AU if ur cool with that) But where Levi takes the readers virginity and he has a massive corruption and/or innocence kink. it ends up super kinky (with sub/dom dynamics, dom levi) and with fluffy aftercare.”

word count: 1400

tags: smut, levi x reader, dom-levi, sub-reader, light bondage, fem!reader

Remember! Levi hates art theft.

So cute the first time he saw you then. All mine when you became an item. Both sentiments ringing in his ears as he took you in now.

So handsome when you first laid eyes on him. All yours when he asked you out. Those feelings revived when faced with him now.

Back then, you both had your favorite visions of each other. Those superlatives were challenged tonight, though. Turtlenecks and trenchcoats looked good on him, but were no match for his current outfit - black socks and boxer briefs of the same shade. A vivid sundress caught his attention that day, but was not nearly as striking as the lingerie you donned now. In his kiss, you felt his memory dawn before a spark of recognition: that dress’s light color and flower pattern from back then were nearly identical to this frilled bra and panty set on you now. Levi had always wondered what you would wear on this night, and to think that he had unknowingly gotten a sneak peek at your very first encounter - he shook his head and sighed into the kiss, Even more innocent than I thought.

It was something you never explicitly told him, but this far into the relationship, he had learned to read you well enough - perhaps there was no need to. Pulled away with a perfect timing. Before you could even confess your little secret, that he was your first, he reassured you, “Don’t worry,” Levi kissed your forehead softly before retreating back to eye contact, “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

Steel grey irises. Dilated pupils. The cool composure that he always had, you honed an even greater appreciation for it now. It may have been your first time, but already you knew, you would not want it to be with anyone but him.

And for him, that shy little sweetheart, all he wanted was to have you for his own, to show you a new way of life, to be there for your cries and your climaxes alike. Letting him in meant a permanent mark within you: in more ways than one, he would make this sex unforgettable. Tonight, he would help you through your first, second, third, and forever. All you had to do was lie back, relax, and let him do the work.

// // //

Cuffs made that easier.

A pair for each arm: bracelets of metal around both wrists bound your body to the bed frame. Arms above your head with very little leeway were just “Perfect.”

Levi stood at the foot of the mattress, assessing his ties and the woman within them. The choice to restrict you was much more wholesome than usual - for all he wanted was for you to enjoy yourself and not to fret over the pleasure he provided. As far as he was concerned, seeing his lover with her panties at her ankles, her corset broken open, and with that look in her eyes, he already felt indebted to you - and Levi always paid his debts.

Crawling onto the mattress, joining you at a tantalizing pace. Hands flattened next to your shoulders, propping himself to a hover above you. Breath of mint and black tea tickled your lips as he spoke against them, “You’ll let me know if it gets too much, right?”

Lips tucked together at the thought of too much, what exactly did that entail? A blinding lust you felt for him now, it was hard to imagine you would ever get enough of him.

Hand shaking on its way to his nape, trembling fingers seized his locks - sturdying both of you. Clutching someone so strong aided your symptoms of weakness, how you pulled his lips to yours reassured him as your words did, “I trust you, Levi.” A split-second smile before you bit your lip and dared, “Now, have your way with me.”

// // //

Not your first kiss, but the first one that ever felt like this. Familiar lips were predictably gentle to start, but had your heart racing soon after - a deep dive down your throat, choking you, teeth that sandwiched your lips on his drawback, stinging you. In a way, this contact was a little spoiler for the night that was to come.

Hyper-sensitivity of this region that had never been touched before. A long-awaited exploration of your depths drew satisfaction unlike any other you had experienced, but came at an exchange - a stretch, a tickle - not unpleasant, but unprecedented. Your body strained to accompany him as your heart yearned to. In that strife, your gasps and flinches, and a sadistic smirk on your lover.

“Hah, look at you,” Levi pitied, “just two fingers and you’re already squirming.”

Breaths caught in your throat, words stuck there with them. Dilated pupils diminished his irises, black bangs curtained that expression - your already monochrome partner turned ten shades darker. So opposite to the flowery angel with light in her eyes, from the start, he had turned your world upside down. Tonight, he ran it back again.

Continuing further with the plunge of a third. Tailing upward like the curl of his fingertips, right to the patch he prioritized so well. Calloused buds contrasted the soft spot, furious rubs against the nerves that had never felt even one before. The thrash of your body, the ensuing metal clangs, the screams that bellowed from your stomach and out past those precious lips. That cycle, he would never get enough, so he pursued it relentlessly.

Hands cupped under your heels, placing them over the cusps of his shoulders - one on each side. Caressing your cheek in his hand, softly. Whispering in your ear, harshly. “You ready for me, baby?”

Blood pooled at your center. Muscles torn and thinned. In the wake of that trying sensation, you craved even more: tilting your neck upwards, lips brushed against his, “Yes, Levi,” you swallowed, panting, “I’m ready.”

Only you would catch that smile: a hint of delight that had slipped by, but just that mere second carried much longer implications. How he could be fully himself with you, how you could read him like no one else could. Even as he towered above you, even as he overtook your entirety, even as he seized your world, you were reminded that the hold you had on him may be different in nature, but was no less than the hold he had on you. A deviant glimmer in his girl so innocent. Levi bit his lip, reasserting himself, “I thought so, princess.”

Another upheaval: his sheath into you, deceptively slow at the beginning, but his entire length at your end. A reactive cry that he cut off with his fingers, fingers you instinctively sucked. As your insides went wild, Levi kept you pinned just enough: dirty talk that ground you in some ways, riled you in others. Questions that demanded no thought, but admittance that reduced you to nothing but his.

“Who’s making you feel good?”

“You!”

“Whose cock do you love deep inside you?”

“Y’Yours!”

“Who do you belong to?”

“I’m - I’m…” back arched, tendons extended, “I’m yours, Le’vi!!”

Words that fit the acing of your test, words that came at just the right time - coinciding with your climax. A single chuckle that made you melt around him, “That’s right, sweetheart.” Hand held the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair, petting you through each wave, “Come on, cum for me.”

Feet pressed against the board, leveraging him even further into you. Muscled V met your sensitive clit - the last immaculate contrast you could handle.

All he had done for you - freeing you as he handled your everything. It was not just tonight’s sex, but in all the time you had spent together since day one. Opening doors for you, cooking your meals, letting you cry on his shoulder, and the soothing aftercare that was sure to follow this - all you wanted was to let him feel the way he made you feel: loved without end. The wrap of your legs around his back and the pull of him closer, it was your attempt at that payback.

The warm passion that filled you, the arousal you gushed around him - matching trembles, breaths, and eye contact told, you succeeded in that mission now and forever. Always and anywhere, you made him feel just as good as he did you.

// Kinktober Year 2 Masterlist //

#levi #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #kinktober year 2 #anlian writes #my writing #alias's #request #specials #smut #spice rack

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Yay! I’m so happy prompts are open again! I love your writing! How about a scenario where NMJ dies in Nightless City either due to MY’s machinations and WRH just takes the chance to execute him. Now there are 3 clans being led by young inexperienced leaders who lost their parents or parent figures in the war

ao3

It wasn’t that Jiang Cheng hadn’t liked Nie Huaisang well enough, when they were all learning together in the Cloud Recesses. Anyone who had the energy to keep up with Wei Wuxian – and just enough good sense to help veer him off the really bad ideas, even if he did keep egging him on in regards to the medium-grade bad ones – was good news in his books.

But liking him didn’t mean respecting him, and the fact that Nie Huaisang hadn’t participated much in the war – couldn’t participate much – had led Jiang Cheng to discount him more or less entirely.

That’s what made it all the more surprising when Nie Huaisang ended up being the unofficial leader of the three remaining Great Sects in opposing Jin Guangshan after the war.

Jiang Cheng would have thought it’d be Lan Xichen, who was the oldest of them. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been included in their classes, already out and about on sect business, but Jiang Cheng had always felt like Lan Xichen was a generation older than the rest of them, even though he was only three years older than they were. At worst, he’d figured it would himself, since he had the experience of rebuilding a sect from nothing and had led men to battle and war - he had experience with being forced to be the one in charge, if nothing else.

Anyone, really, except Nie Huaisang.

“He’s up to something vile again,” Nie Huaisang said without preamble, tone clipped and eyes hard as they always were these days. He settled down at Jiang Cheng’s table and picked up a cup of tea with disinterest, nodding in recognition of the fact that it had been his favorite blend when they were younger. Possibly he didn’t have favorites anymore.

“What now?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“This Xue Yang business,” Nie Huaisang said, which wasn’t a surprise at all. “It just keeps getting worse and worse. I really don’t like it.”

“You don’t like anything, Nie-xiong,” Wei Wuxian teased, bringing over some snacks they both liked.

If it was anyone else, Jiang Cheng would have snapped at Wei Wuxian, telling his martial brother to have more respect, to call Nie Huaisang by his proper title – Sect Leader Nie, since he didn’t have a personal title – except no one called Nie Huaisang Sect Leader Nie if they could help it, not after the example he’d made of the first few who’d done it, trying to ingratiate themselves with him.

As far as Nie Huaisang was concerned, his brother – who was still in the coma he had fallen into after Yangquan, after the Nightless City, after what should have been the end of the war but wasn’t, after everything – was the one and only Sect Leader Nie.

That was also around the time he stopped smiling, and the time the rest of the world discovered that under Nie Huaisang’s smiles and tears and frills and overly indulged laziness was the same core of steel and rage that his brother was famous for.

“Are you going to keep talking nonsense or are you going to help stop it?” Nie Huaisang asked Wei Wuxian, harsh as always, and Wei Wuxian obediently sat down and shut up.

Something Jiang Cheng had yet to figure out how to get Wei Wuxian how to do. He was desperately jealous in some ways, but his normal thing about other people being better than him at anything was heavily muted by the fact that it apparently took Nie Huaisang being, well, like that in order to accomplish it.

Like he was all alone in the world, having lost the only family he had left.

For what might be the first time in his life, Jiang Cheng would prefer to be second-best if it meant he didn’t have to face the same sort of loss. It had been bad enough losing his parents, but if he lost Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian as well…

He might have, too, if Nie Huaisang hadn’t all but stormed the Lotus Pier in a rage when Jiang Cheng had failed to reject Jin Guangshan’s request to expel Wei Wuxian from his sect as quickly as Nie Huaisang would have liked. Jiang Cheng had even (secretly) been considering it, knowing that Wei Wuxian agreed with the idea, thinking that maybe distancing themselves in public and remaining close in private would be the only way -

Nie Huaisang had put a rapid end to those thoughts.

With Nie Huaisang at his side, and even Lan Wangji having arrived from who-knows-where, Jiang Cheng had had the confidence to tell Jin Guangshan that the internal affairs of his sect were none of his business and that the furthest he’d go in regards to Wei Wuxian’s actions would be to offer to pay recompense for taking the Wen sect prisoners.

Obviously the Jin sect had refused, not wanting to seem like they were pinching pennies, and in the end it had actually turned out fairly well as a political stratagem, smaller sects appreciating the way he stood up for himself and established a precedent for resisting such pressure. Jiang Cheng really wouldn’t have thought it.

(He hadn’t been allowed time to think – Jin Guangshan had been leading him around by the nose, and only Nie Huaisang’s choler had snapped him out of it before he made some very bad decisions.)

“A little nonsense isn’t so bad,” Lan Xichen said from the door, waving at them not to rise to salute him as he entered, followed closely by Lan Wangji. He smiled at Wei Wuxian in particular – they were all but brothers-in-law now, given how much time Lan Wangji had been spending at the Lotus Pier, even if the relationship wasn’t official yet. “It adds a little levity and laughter to life.”

“I promise to laugh when you finally give me Meng Yao’s head,” Nie Huaisang said, and Lan Xichen’s smile abruptly crumpled. “The way you should have back then.”

“Do you want to work together or not?” Jiang Cheng asked Nie Huaisang irritably. “Drop it.”

“Certainly I will drop it, as soon as the honorable Zewu-jun stops telling me to laugh more. He wanted someone to smile at him and he got it, and all it cost him was my brother - and supposedly his - so you’ll have to forgive me for not being full of levity and laughter.” Nie Huaisang accepted a snack pressed into his hand by Wei Wuxian. “My spies indicate that the Tingshan He Sect – about sixty or seventy in total – have disappeared. Very shortly after their young master had a dispute with Jin Guangyao, as you might recall.”

Jiang Cheng flinched. “The entire sect?”

“The entire sect.”

Wei Wuxian muttered something extremely unpleasant under his breath. “On what excuse?” he demanded. “He nearly got me kicked out of the cultivation world over the Wen sect, fine, but Tingshan He? He Su fought in the Sunshot Campaign! What could they possible said that he did to deserve it?”

“He publicly opposed Jin Guangshan’s bid to be chief cultivator, and Jin Guangyao’s new position as his heir, isn’t that enough?” Nie Huaisang said, heavily sarcastic. “I think what you should be asking is what the children did to deserve such a fate, or the babes in arms…oh, I’m sorry, Zewu-jun. Would you prefer that I be smiling while I talk about it? I understand that’s your preference. Forgive my insufficient levity; I’m afraid I cannot match your beloved sworn brother - you have only the one, if I recall correctly? - for such talents.”

Lan Xichen looked tired.

Jiang Cheng couldn’t blame him – Nie Huaisang had a tongue as vicious as Jiang Cheng’s mother, and he didn’t say that lightly – but on the other hand, there wasn’t much he could say to get Nie Huaisang to stop, either.

After all, it was Lan Xichen who had refused Nie Huaisang’s immediate demand for Jin Guangyao’s head in the immediate aftermath when the whole debacle at the Nightless City had been revealed, one of the Nie sect disciples having survived nearly getting murdered long enough to testify as to what had happened within the walls, and, due to Lan Xichen’s prevarication, there had been time for Jin Guangshan to adopt Jin Guangyao back into the Jin sect.

After that, he became untouchable.

And then –

Well, then a lot of things had happened.

Jin Guangshan’s overreach and ambition were clear from the start, of course, more or less from the second he realized that the other three Great Sects were being led by the untried, inexperienced younger generation. Jiang Cheng had a good reputation, but he’d been fairly hamstrung politically by his sister’s decision to marry Jin Zixuan, not wanting to risk her being mistreated by her new family – Lan Xichen was a novice sect leader and still friends of a sort of with Jin Guangyao, at least back then – the other sects were too small to do much –

No wonder Nie Huaisang had changed so much. They hadn’t left him much choice.

“Something will need to be done about it,” Lan Xichen said. “An entire sect…he’s really gone too far.”

Nie Huaisang nodded sharply. In his opinion, Jiang Cheng knew, Jin Guangshan had gone too far long ago, and the rest of them were only just starting to catch up…

A bit like Nie Mingjue had been, with Wen Ruohan.

Damnit, maybe they should just listen to the Nie sect.

“Where will it end?” Lan Wangji asked from his place next to Wei Wuxian.

“War, of course,” Nie Huaisang said, and they all flinched. “Would you prefer to roll over and give in? I’m sure Jin Guangshan would be willing to promise you leniency if you turned over his grandson, Jiang Cheng, though you might have to execute your sister for having kidnapped him in the first place – even if she didn’t know she was pregnant when she returned to the Lotus Pier.”

“We’re willing to go to war,” Wei Wuxian said, his voice hot with anger, then realized he was being presumptuous again and looked over at Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes at him – at least he was trying – and nodded. “There’s no way we’re handing Jin Ling over, much less jiejie. But don’t make it seem like we have more influence than we do. After all, now that Jin Guangyao is the official heir, they have Jin Rusong, don’t they?”

“Not for long,” Nie Huaisang said, and Jiang Cheng turned to stare at him in dismay.

“Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said, aghast. “You haven’t –”

“I appreciate your confidence in me, really,” Nie Huaisang said, and threw a letter at his face.

Lan Xichen plucked it out of the air and looked it over, his face paling as he read it.

“Your spies again?” Jiang Cheng asked Nie Huaisang. He seemed to have an endless supply of them.

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “My brother never stopped sending them out, even if he barely ever used them, and he never asked them of anything that might make them break cover. Some of them have been undercover for over ten years – they’re very good.”

Lan Xichen put the letter down. He looked sick, which meant that Jiang Cheng really did not want to see what was in that letter.

Unfortunately, what he wanted had long ago become not especially important. He was sect leader. He had to face all the worst that people could do, the awful, the ugly, the terrible –

Wei Wuxian nudged him in the side. “Can I?”

“Go for it,” Jiang Cheng said, relieved by the reprieve. He really didn’t know what he’d do without Wei Wuxian – he didn’t know what he was thinking, that he thought he could protect his sect better without him rather than with him. Nie Huaisang’s furious and despairing rant had been extremely convincing, even if it had been more than a little traumatizing.

Especially in regards to his predictions as to the ultimate fate of Wei Wuxian and his lost sheep once he no longer had Jiang sect protection...

Wei Wuxian picked up the letter, looked at it, and blanched, which – wow. Jiang Cheng really didn’t want to know what was in there that would make the Yiling Patriarch look like he was going to throw up. Not even the reports about Xue Yang using people’s tongues to make tea had done that.

Wei Wuxian passed Lan Wangji the letter and put his hands down onto his lap, knuckles white. “He’s going to murder his own son.”

It took Jiang Cheng a second to parse that – to understand that the ‘he’ referred to Jin Guangyao rather than Jin Guangshan, as the latter wouldn’t have been a surprise – and then he jerked as if stabbed. “Not Rusong!”

Everyone looked exceedingly grim.

“That – fucker!”

“The idea is to blame us – or anyone resisting him, really – for the death,” Nie Huaisang said. “Then exterminate us as a consequence. Do you have any more of that cake? It was good.”

Lan Wangji wordlessly passed some over.

“So, getting back on the subject: war,” Nie Huaisang continued briskly. Unperturbed, almost, by what they’d just discovered, but then again he’d known longer, or maybe it was only that it didn’t surprise him the way it did them. “One way or the other, whether it’s us starting it or them; it was always going to end in war, as I told you.”

He took a bite of the cake, swallowed it.

“Imminent war, in fact,” he added. “Regardless of what the rest of you decide, I’m not going to sit around to waste my time talking until it’s too late. I’m going to kidnap Rusong – and maybe Qin Su, who knows, I haven’t yet determined how in-the-know she is – and that’ll probably kick the war off right away. I’m here to tell you to get ready.”

He swallowed another bite of cake. “Or, well, to get ready, or get out of my way. You can pick.”

“We’ll be ready,” Jiang Cheng said.

He didn’t want another war – but surely anything had to be better than this.

Lan Xichen caught his gaze over the table. He seemed tired, but also – hopeful. Even if all he was hoping for was an end to all the uncertainty that had been torturing them.

“We’ll be there, too,” he said, and Jiang Cheng nodded encouragingly at him. “Just tell us what to do.”

“Don’t worry,” Nie Huaisang said. “I will.”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #lan wangji #lan xichen #jin guangyao #my fic #my fics #unfettered #Anonymous

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purplekiwis · 3 years

Text

The story of a hopelessly romantic saloon girl, her long lost lover and very stubborn horse. (Part 1)

A/N: Hi, so this is a ‘little’ piece I wrote for @stellarboystyles 3 year anniversary fic challenge. Which was originally just meant to be a one shot, but as usual, I got carried away with it. 🤷 Which is mostly why i’m only posting it now (3 months too late), but either way... Here it is! 🧡

P.S: This story goes a bit back and forth at the beggining, so mind the dates and locations as you read, otherwise it might get a little confusing.

Genre: Cowboy AU

Trope (3): Different Time Period

Prompt (3):“you’re really cute when you start rambling like that”

Warnings: Smut, Cursing, Alcohol Use and General Cowboy Rowdy Behavior 🤠

Wordcount: 28K (total) 11K (part 1) [I divided it into 2 parts to make your reading more bearable. Also, I don’t know how this happened, so cope with me.]

Gravefort, Texas. 3rd of August, 1890

Thursday nights at the Mystery Galore Saloon were always busy.

It was Gravefort’s cowboys favorite place to rest their feet at the end of a long day of working on the ranch or down the mines.

It’s facade’s warped clapboards matched the ones from the rest of the street’s woody, meager buildings... that only differenciated themselves by the color of the lettering painted on their fronts. And still, Mystery Galore still managed to be the worst looking building by comparison... since it happened to be situated right next to Gravefort’s bank, whose facade besides monumental, was also kept in immaculate shape.

Any visitor who dared walking through the Saloon’s swinging doors, would most likely be met with groups of men of all kinds - from the most prestigious lawmen to the most wanted outlaws.

The saloon was the place where they’d all come together. Conversing over glasses of whiskey, downing shots of Tequila by the counter or playing poker or Monte while they bitched about their bosses and wives and nogotiated over cattle work.

Unfortunately, most often than not these congregations ended up resulting in beating scenes and sometimes, even shootings... much to Bathilda’s desmay.

Bathilda was the owner of the saloon.

She was a large woman in her fifties, but she carried her weight well. Mostly on her large breasts and strong hips, that she made sure to accentuate with a bustle, a tight leather corset and one of her characteristic long frilled skirts, that she liked to sway to the sound of the animated Piano chords that could be heard during the whole day by courtesy of Bill, the rounded looking piano player with permanent red stained cheeks, ebony hair and an enviable walrus moustache.

However, on this particular Thursday there was another peculiarly vivid sound echoing inside the thin walls of the Saloon...

Coming all the way from the dressing room.

“What in the Tarnation is going on in here?” Sally, the new girl, asked as she walked through the door in a hurry, pushing it shut behind her. “The costumers are complaining about the noise…”

Sally wasn’t really new anymore. She’d gotten the job two years ago, but to the rest of the dance hall girls, she was still a baby. Her looks didn’t help that fact. – With full, rosy cheeks, a cute little button nose and strawberry blonde strands that framed her face entirely, curling around her ears in an almost perfect arc.

“What happened?” The blonde questioned once she was met with a scene that startled her out of her disgruntled state.

There was one of her confreres, Valerie, sitting on her vanity bowling her eyes out. Her characteristic rouge blush was running down her puffy cheeks, along with the black mascara she was desperately trying to apply in front of the mirror in between sobs.

“She’s gotten engaged...” Bathilda, who was standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips informed with a heavy sigh.

In Gravefort and it’s surroundings, Bathilda had a reputation for being tough as nails, as the cowboys usually called her.

And even the bravest of them knew better than to mess with her or one of her girls... but deep down, under the woman's dark clothing and heavy make-up, rested a big heart of gold. Bathilda’s workers knew so,

Especially Valerie.

Ever since her mother had passed away from tuberculosis, Bathilda had been taking care of her almost as if she were her own daughter...

Valerie still had her dad though, old sheriff Monty. Although their relationship had seen better days…

“Oh! That’s amazing news Valerie! You must be delighted!” Sally hooted with genuine excitement. What only caused Valerie’s sobs to intensify as she let her head fall over her forearms and resumed to cry her heart out. “Aw…” The newby cooed, patting her friend’s back soothingly. Even though she couldn’t really feel it due to Agnes tightning her corset with a little too much effort. “I can’t wait until the day comes when someone makes me cry happy tears like that!”

“Oh Sally... such an innocent girl...” Bathilda scoffed, with a shake of her head.

“You really are new here…” Agnes, that was kneeling on the floor next to Valerie’s stool trying her best to comfort her, commented in a taunting tone.

“What? You don’t think I’ll find a husband someday?” The blonde asked with a scoff, causing Bathilda and Agnes to snort at her. “Is it a crime for a woman to believe in love in times like these?”

“It’s not that, mush-head.” Agnes replied sharply, a little humourously.

With another sigh, Bathilda opened the cubbord she kept her stack of spirits for special occasions at. “Will one of you just tell the newby? She’s bound to figure it out sooner or later...” The question was directed at Agnes and Judith, making both girls exchange a knowing look between them before their attention focused on Valerie again, who’s crying kept gotting worse with each word spoken out as Bathilda moved around the room, collecting two shot glasses and placing them harshly on top of the vanity, right next to where Valerie’s head still rested over her forearms.

“W-what is that?” The girl questioned in a whimper, lifting her droopy, tinted face at the sound of glass smashing against the wooden surface.

“Tequila.” Bathilda informed briskly, filling up the glasses to the brim and pushing one in Valerie’s direction. “Drink.”

Valerie hesitantly shook her head ‘No’, but the stern look she got from the motherly figure had her picking up the drink and taking it to her frowny lips. She hissed at the alcohol sting. “You stop that crying, right now.” Bathilda menaced, pointing her naturally large finger at the girl’s face. “Those embellishments you’re wasting are hard and expensive to make.” The older woman complained as she picked them up and stacked them back inside the vanity’s drawer. “I’m not sustaining your heartbreaks any further. If I see one more single tear, the next face powder and rouge is being cut off your salary.”

Valerie nodded, hastily wiping her face despite knowing Bathilda didn’t really mean it. “Heartbreaks?” Sally inquired quizzically, prompting all the women in the room to share looks between them again, still unsure of what to do. “Can someone please just tell me what the hell is going on already?” The blonde demanded in a pleading tone.

Agnes looked at Valerie for confirmation, who was still struggling to speak due to the lump in her throat. “Valerie's not crying because she’s happy…” Agnes informed once she finally managed to pull a encouraging nod out of her crying friend. “In fact, I think she couldn’t be sadder...”

“Oh?” Sally voiced with surprise. “So what happened? Don’t tell me he cheated on you with one of those calico queens working at Myrtle’s…”

The mention brought a snarl to Bathilda's lips. Myrtle’s Sapphires. The house of ill fame situated a couple of estabelishments down the street... and naturally Mystery Galore’s biggest competitor. But truly, the conflict between the places was more than just rivalry over alcohol sales and costumer frequency… In fact, one could say it went as deep as blood, since it’s owner Myrtle, was Bathilda’s gruesome half-sister.

It was no secret that ever since childhood, the two had done nothing but bump heads and go at each other’s throats... literally.

And don’t get it twisted, Bathilda was no saint, but Myrtle was mean enough to eat off the same plate with a snake.

“It’s not that...” Judith disclosed hesitantly. “It’s just that Valerie... she’s not in love with the chap.”

“Blimey…” The other girl mumbled lowly. “Is he ill-favored?”

Judith shruged her shoulders in reply to the question. “He’s alright. You’ve probably seen him around... He comes around to see Valerie sometimes.”

Sally looked a little lost. She didn’t remember ever seeing Valerie paying extra attention to any of the men that came to the hall.

“...His name is Otis Montgomery.” Judith continued. “He’s a rancher. His dad owns a big cattle farm in Vernon.”

“A cattle farm?! Sounds like a good deal to me!” Sally mused, before her gaze fell on her unconsolable work partner again. “Well… Don’t worry, Valerie…” She said, pulling a stool and sitting down on the available spot on the vanity. “Maybe it will go like it did with my great-aunt Sylvia. She absolutely dispised my uncle, and fairly so! The guy was a nightmare! Heavy drinker, uncle John… One time he even tried to hit her! Poor guy... ended up with a cracked head and two broken ribs... So, anyway,” The blonde concurred, realizing that she was getting carried away with her rambling. “They ended up warming up to each other after all. If you asked her now, she’d say he was the biggest love of her life.” Sally sighed dreamingly. “What I’m trying to say is that maybe you’ll end up warming up to that Otis guy after all, who knows… he might be the one true love of your life.”

To Sally’s surprise, her motivational words only ended up bringing a fresh wave of tears to Valerie’s already swollen and smudged eyes. Prompting Bathilda to squeeze the bridge of her nose in dispair, whist Judith rushed to join Agnes, who had resumed to caress Valerie’s back in a soothing manner.

“That’s the problem, can’t you see?” Judith told, in a slightly amused tone. “Valerie has already met the love of her life.”

Skeleton Trails, Missisipi. 16th of April, 1892

“C'mooon...!” Harry hissed, pulling at the reigns tightened around his horse’s head.

Unsuccessfully, once again... since it kept refusing to move. Instead it kept pulling backwords and dragging Harry across the floor by the heels of his boots. “You stupid…! stubborn…! bronco...!” The boy hissed between gritted teeth, pulling at the reigns as hard as he physically could.

His force prompted the mustang to give two steps forwards, leading Harry to believe that he had finally managed to get it to do what he wanted. “Yeah, that’s it… c'mon, that’s a good boy, Kiwi.” He praised. ...but suddently the horse stopped in his tracks.

It snorted. Projecting multiple strings of blabber directly onto Harry’s already dirty and sweaty face.

The boy sighed heavily, closing his eyes and pursing his lips in defeat. “You know, I really thought we were already past that attitude, mate.” Harry complained, loosening his grip on the caveson, in order to wipe his face on the sleeve of his shirt.

With his hands resting on his hips over the leather belt, that secured his mud stained, corduroy flares in place, Harry decided to take a breather. Trying to work out the best way of getting the wild equine to do as he pleased, preferably without getting kicked in the nuts in the process.

“Why do you always have to be so rowdy?” He asked the hoofed creature, that had resumed to feed on the tall, dried-up grass underneath their feet. “Guess it must be in your nature, isn’t that so?” He questioned back with a smile. “...it's why we get along so well, hm? We're like two peas in a pod.” He mumbled as he affectionately patted the horse’s back where its heavy saddle was usually placed, before his attention was brought to his rear, at the sound of whistling at distance. The cowboy turned around, being immediately met with the sight of one of his accomplices, Niall, waving his hands in the air and calling his name.

“Hurry up, heh?!” The youngster urged. “Don’t wanna miss our train now, do we?”

“I’ll be down in a minute.” Harry shouted back at the boy before turning to face his horse again. “Don’t think I’ll forget about it...” He said, pointing his finger directly at the stallion’s muzzle, that was now standing right in front of his face again, since the animal had lifted his head at the ringing of a distant voice as well. “We’re still trimming and changing those horseshoes today.” The cowboy warned. “We’ve got a long journey ahead of us tomorrow,” In cue with his words, the horse pinned his ears back and tightened his muzzle, a sign that he was getting irritated. Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest and clicked his tongue at the creature’s attitude. “You know, I’ve heard they’ve been paying real good for horse steak lately...” As if he could understand his owner’s empty threat, Kiwi snorted again. Coating Harry’s face with a fresh layer of snot and slobber. “Fucking hell...” The cowboy cursed, untying the red bandana from around his neck and wiping his face with it. “You my friend, are as crooked as a Virginia’s fence...”

Gravefort, Texas. 22nd of June 1886

“He can’t keep his eyes away from you.” Judith commented, leaning against the counter Valerie was behind of, currently wiping dry a stack of cups.

“Nonsense.” The other girl babbled, taking a stealthly peek towards the stranger sitting in one of the gambling tables before she turned around and began stacking the cups in one of the cupboards behind her. He was staring at her, just like he had been the last three times she’d checked. Eyes twinkling with amusement and a smug smile drawn onto his lips.

He was extremely good looking… Tall, with sun kissed skin and messy pecan locks that poured from under his bone colored cowboy hat and curled around his ears. His eyes were light and bright, and Valerie couldn’t deny the way her insides twisted everytime their gazes met for brief seconds. One of those times, he even dared to flash her a kittenish smile, which she rebated by looking away and swabbing a cloth over the counter, just so that he couldn’t spot the flush taking over her cheeks at the seemingly innocent interaction.

“It’s the forth night in a row that he comes by…” Agnes joined in on the conversation as she walked over from the other end of the counter with a tray in hand. She passed behind Valerie and placed the empty cups she had been collecting from the tables inside a water bowl, lazily washing them. As she did, she stared directly at the gambling table, not even bothering to hide her gawking. “I wonder what his business here is…” In queue with her sentence, the other two girls also turned their heads to take a better look at the guy, who was luckily distracted by the deck in his hand.

“I bet he’s a gunslinger…” Judith guessed. “I haven’t seen him around before, and those are the ones that always come and go…”

“I don’t know...” Agnes hummed apprehensively. “He’s got more of a railroad worker fit. Slim with a broad back, strong arms… I’ve heard they’ve started building the new railroads for the coal mine last week, and Bill was saying they’ve hired some outsiders as well… Ain’t that right Bill?” She questioned, tilting her head towards the Pianist, but he didn’t descry her question. Too delirious over the chords he was playing and the large quantity of red wine he had already ingested.

“I’d say he’s an entertainer.” Judith ventued further. “Notice how he’s managed to capture the attention of the whole table…” She disclosed, leaning over the counter and speaking in a whispery tone as if he could somehow hear her from across the room. “The man’s got experience… And charisma! Definitely an exhibition shooter… Plus, his trousers are too clean for someone who’s been laying tracks all day.”

“Why don’t you just go over there and ask him?” Valerie suggested with feign indifference, picking up the discarded cloth and vigorously wiping the gin splatters a group of regulars had left over the counter on their way out. “I’m sure he would enjoy the company... And I would thoroughly enjoy not having both of you knocking around my ears.”

“Thought we’d pass you the chance, you fool!” Agnes spat back, forging a offended expression. “He’s clearly trying to make a mash on you…”

“You know I don’t get with passengers…” Valerie acknowledged. “They’re nothing but trouble.”

“Nor with locals…” Agnes added on. “Swear that if your skirt was any less short I’d take you for a nun in disguise...”

Gravefort, Texas. 9th. of February, 1892

“Valerie…” Agnes breathed out with a chuckle, placing her hand over her coworker’s forearm. “That would be an awful mistake.”

“I have to agree on that one. It’s good for a woman to get some experience before she gets married...” Judith started, taking a seat on one of the tall stools and resting her chin over her hand with her gaze locked on Valerie’s unpleased one. “Some say it’s even the secret to a happy marriage... I believe them. Whether you like it or not, when it comes to men, it’s always easier to keep ‘em in line when you know how to please ‘em in bed.”

“That sure is…” A curly wolf sitting alone on one of the counter edges confirmed. His hair was grey and moderately long, just like the hook moustache that curled over his upper lip, and his treacherous eyes were cloaked by a dark shadow. Consequence of the wide brim of his hat.

He lifted his glass in the air in a single-handed toast and downed the golden liquid in a swift motion, dropping the cup over the counter with a loud clink. “I suppose none of you birds would like to join an old rag like me for a dance, would you?” He inquired, flashing his big yellow grin at the girls and wiggling his bushy eyebrows invitingly.

“Maybe so…” Judith disclosed with a charming smile. “Might need a refreshment to get me going though, I’m getting quite hot under all these flares…” She waved her fan in front of her exposed chest and battened her eyes at him. Contrary to Valerie, Judith was a natural in the art of flirting with the cowboys. Alluring them spend the whole night at the saloon, blowing their wages in games and overpriced alcohol.

“What do you fancy, petal?” The man asked, adjusting himself in his seat. “Perhaps some Rye Whiskey?”

“I reckon that’ll do just fine.” The blue-eyed beauty agreed, nodding her head to Valerie who was already pouring both of them a drink. She grabbed it from the counter with her right hand and extended her left to the man, who wasted no time in taking it and leading her across the room to demand the promised dance.

“Unbelievable…” Valerie shook her head, watching a series of younger cowboys pushing eachother around as they desperatly tried to steal Judith away from the old fogey. “Can’t these fools pick on the fact that dances must be patronized?”

“They’ll figure it out eventually…” Agnes concluded. “All I know is that as long as none of them pulls out a gun, I’m going to keep looking the other way…” Both of the girls sighed in silent agreement. “Do you think he would like to dance?” She asked, nodding her head towards the handsome stranger, that was now happily collecting a couple of Maravedies he’d won over a bet.

Valerie shrugged lightly. “I don’t know… Doesn’t look like the kind to loosen his strings for female attention...”

“Maybe he’s just shy…” Agnes ventured, shifting in the counter so that she was directly facing Valerie again. “Although I bet you could get him to pay for way more than just a drink…”

“Don’t be vulgar!” Valerie scolded with offense. “I’m no prostitute.”

“I’m just saying… If he was making those eyes at me I would’ve given it to him for free…” Agnes carried on, much to Valerie’s dismay.

Valerie decided to ignore her teasing, tightening her grip around the cloth and submerging it inside a bowl of water and vinegar before she began scrubbing the already clean counter in petulant silence. “There’s enough dirt around my name as it is, I don’t need to go to bed with a heavy conscience on top of it.” She fretted, finally throwing the cloth back inside the bowl. “Call me old fashioned but I would like my first to be the man I end up marrying.”

“Watch that foul mouth!” Valerie snapped, grabbing the soggy, smelly cloth she had been wiping with and throwing it at the curly haired girl bent over the counter. She hadn’t meant for it to actually hit her, let alone smack the front of her gown… But it did! And Valerie couldn’t stop the cackle that broke away from her at Agnes’s scandalized expression. “How dare you? You slipshod floozy!” The girl wailed. “This bodice was gifted to me by Mother Myrtle, when I still worked for her!” She hissed, so that Bathilda didn’t hear her.

“Good! Now it smells just like her as well!” Valerie bickered, causing Agnes to fly of the handle and jump further over the counter, trying to wrap her hands around Valerie’s throat, and consequentely flashing the whole room with her underwear. “Get off of me, you snake!” Valerie brushed off, grabbing another cloth and repeatedly smacking Agnes with it.

The girls were so immersed in their topsy-turvy discussion that they didn’t even notice that they were being loud and disturbing the costumers. At least not until Bathilda came rushedly walking from the back room and surprised them both with a splash of cold water over their heads.

“What’s all this fuss about?” The boss reprimanded, as both girls let out a squeal and cut apart immediately.

“Valerie has an admirer!” Agnes tattled bitterly, nodding her head towards the table with a mischievious smile. “But apparently she prefers to be hauling off on me rather than doing her job...” She told, leaving Valerie in the lurch.

“What are you waiting for, young lady?” Bathilda questioned, placing her hands on her hips as Valerie began stammering excuses why Agnes was seeing things and he certainly wasn’t interested on buying her drink. “I don’t care, convince him!” The woman interrupted, once she finally had enough of Valerie’s same old tell tale. “You’re a saloon girl, not a barmaid.” Bathilda said, placing her large palms on Valerie’s fragile shoulders and pushing her from behind the counter. “Speaking of which, where’s that godforsaken bartender I hired?” The woman inquired, moving her head from side to side as she looked for the redheaded, spot faced, half-grown boy.

“Probably in the back…” Agnes disclosed. “The poor thing... told me he has been having caughing issues...” She sighed with fake sympathy. “Must be from all of the tobacco he has been chewing lately…” At Agnes’s announcement, Bathilda cursed under her breath. Practically crashing through the back door, yelling for Armand and leaving the girls alone again.

“You’re a rancorous weasel.” Valerie accused with a raise of her eyebrows, realizing that Agnes was just trying to put a flea in Bathilda’s ear that Armand was the one who had been surreptitiously taking her Beech-Nut packs. “No wonder they kicked you out of Myrtle’s… Only a truly desperate cowboy could enjoy your company!” Valerie affronted, making half a turn in order to dry her hands and put her gloves back on before stepping out from behind the counter.

She moved pompously around the room, flaunting her hips the way she’d learn to over the past two years she’d worked at Mystery Galore. “Howdy gentlemen.” Valerie approached the inebriated looking men sitting at gambling table with a smile. Strategically placing her body so that she didn’t have to face the nobby cowboy she had been trading looks with all throughout the evening. “How are the odds today?” She asked, leaning against one of the empty chairs.

Their cackling stopped at the surprise intervention, all of the men darting their eyes and heads up to look at the beautiful girl standing before them, with her hands behind her back and a slightly flustered appearance. One of them burst into laughter at Valerie’s question. At his odd behaviour, some of the others let out a couple of nervous cackles, clearly unsure of what they should be laughing about.

“Come on sweetheart, you know women can’t play.” The man proclaimed. He was a greasy looking big guy, with dirty and smelly clothes, thin and fragile hair strands cascading down his back and eyes so wide and souless that, if Valerie wasn’t looking directly into them, she would’ve believed belonged to a dead man. “Would be surprised if she could tell a king from a jack, heh?” He spoke to the man beside him, elbowing him on the arm and still choking on his own laughter.

Valerie stuck her nose up at the offensive comment. “I can assure you I can… and if you must know, I also consider myself quite a decent gambler...”

The man whistled mockingly at her stance. “Do me a favor, sweetheart…” He started, taking a hand to the pocket of his vest and pulling out a couple of coins that he let fall over the tabletop for Valerie to collect. “Why don’t you leave the gambling for the players and go get me a glass of Red Eye instead?”

Valerie exhaled through her nose in frustration, but decided to collect the coins from the table anyway… Figuring that it wouldn’t be wise not to keep her mouth shut to avoid causing a scene and upsetting Bathilda any further. “How much for a tit squeeze?” The man asked, with his eyes locked onto Valerie’s heart-shaped cleavage as she bent down to wipe the coins off the table.

“You’re as crude as homemade sin!” The girl arraigned, covering her chest and spinning around in the tip of her pointy shoe to head back to the counter. Except when she did, she heard a throathy mumble of a objectionable slur directed at her, immediately followed by the sound of a gun clicking behind her. She froze in place, withholding from making a single move or noise. Her mouth gasped, figuring that there was a gun barrel pointed at her back. Out of all the men in the room, if there was one who would have the audacity to shoot a woman from the back, it would’ve been a mad-looking, mannerless man like this.

“Apologize to the lady.” A gravely voice demanded in a calm tone, prompting Valerie to turn swiftly. Harry was leaning back in his chair, right arm firmly stretched over the round table. On his hand, stood a beautifully engraved Colt Revolver, pointed directly at the offender’s heart.

“Easy tiger…” The man said with nervous snigger. “Don’t be foolish, boy…” He advised. “A piece of Eve’s meat ain’t worth a noose around your neck. Put that gun down.”

Harry’s patience was growing thinner by the second, and judging by the way his index was confidently placed over the trigger, he’d done this at least a couple of times before. He cocked his gun menacingly, mouth contorting into a poised smile “One more disrespectful word towards the girl and I’ll fire a bullet right through that pea you call a brain.” He warned, smile fading into a hard line as his wild eyes squinted jeaopardizingly. “Apologize… and leave.”

The man’s lips drew back into a ravaging snarl, but the persistence of the aim towards his chest had him pushing himself off his chair. He patted the revolver on his belt as he did so. “Sorry, miss.” He excused himself, with a wry smile. Valerie didn’t comment on it, only stared him up and down with a snooty pout as he stepped into the porch, loudly pulling spit into his mouth and spewing on the floor with his gaze set on her. Then his eyes met Harry’s again. “I’ll see you around… cowboy.” He said suggestively, straightening his back and puffing out his chest before starting to pace towards the corral.

The silence settled for a couple of moments as Harry tucked his revolver back into his belt and those present collected their thoughts on the one-on-one they’d just witnessed. But it didn’t take long for the spirited and vivacious atmosphere to settle back in. After all, it wasn’t like it was uncommon for gunfights and altercations to start behind the doors of the saloon, with drunk and reckless men pulling out their guns for all and for nothing.

It was the first time, however, that someone had pulled out their gun in Valerie’s defence, and although the dagger she kept in her stocking had always served her just fine, she couldn’t help the contented feeling that erupted in her core at the handsome fella’s chivalry.

She glanced towards him, only to find him already staring at her with an exquisite gleam in his eyes. “Thank you, sir.” She expressed her gratitude sheepishly. “That was very kind of you.”

The handsome cowboy extended his hand in greeting. “Anytime, miss.” Falteringly, Valerie placed her satin covered fingers over his hard work blemished palm, and leaning down, he placed a gente kiss right over her knuckles. The shudder that flared up her spine at the impact made her feel dizzier than the tightness of her corset did, while simultaneously making her feel sorry for deciding to put her gloves on before heading over. “If that bloke ever adresses you like that again, give me a tip and I’ll make sure he won’t live to tell the story.”

“I appreciate your worriment, sir... but I believe that won’t be necessary. I've always managed to take care of myself, it's not a crude rusty man who's going to scare me.” With a gente smile and a grateful curtsy, Valerie anticipated her withdraw.

Harry couldn’t deviate his eyes away from the girl as she left. Eager eyes unsure of whether to focus on the way her long braid fell over her narrow waistline or on the bright colored plumage of her outrageously short garment, that did little to conceal her dark pigmented stockings and dear god, were her ankles out?

“Hey miss!” The cowboy called, making Valerie tilt her head over her shoulder to look at him. There was an effortless smile on both of their lips as their eyes met one more time. “Has anyone ever told ya you have the prettiest eyes in the whole West?” Valerie spurt out a nervous giggle, fixing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes focused on the frills of Harry’s brown leather jacket, that swang around appealingly with each move that he made as he sat back down.“Know what they remind me of?”

His question had her bashfully shaking her head ‘No’, trying to conceal her coffee brown eyes from him while simultaneously covering up the heat spreading over the entirety of her face and neck at the compliment. “Cherries,” He answered his own question, and slowly, Valerie picked up her head and stared into the boy’s equally beautiful green ones. “They’re my favorite.”

But there was nothing he could do about it now, so he mustered up all the courage he had and walked up the ring, climbing over the barricade and sitting on the edge the beast stood under. He couldn’t help running his hand through forehead. There was sweat pooling on his scalp and creeping down his face in thick globules. The cowboy flinched once one of the salted drops slithered inside one of his eyes, but he rubbed it off quickly, knowing he wasn’t in position to afford any distractions.

Gravefort, Texas. 4th of July 1886

As the yearly warmest days arrived to Gravefort, so did the the annual holiday festivities and exhibitions.

This year, Gravefort’s dwellers were in particular great luck and awe, since they would be able to witness Bill Irving’s outstanding skills in the flesh. Irving was one of the greatest bronco riders of the whole West, known for his familiarity with the legendary Buffalo Bill and Miss Annie Oakley herself.

Therefore, contrary to what happened during the traditional modest festivities, the whole town and residents of it’s surroundings had came out to see the show. Resulting into the whole site being jam-packed with families, cowboys, lawmen and even land workers. It wasn’t usual for the bosses to give free afternoons to their employees on the national holidays, but quite frankly, not even the sternest big bugs could overlook this year’s truly special guest. It was an unmissable event for any western… Including Harry.

“Got anything to cool down a man’s gut?” The young cowboy heaved exasperately, rolling up his sleeves and waving his already half unbottoned shirt.

“Here you go.” The bartender announced, placing a cooled down beer bottle in the small counter as Harry took his hand to the pocket of his trousers, picking out a couple of pennies and handing them down directly to his hand.

Without further hesitation, the cowboy took the bottle to his lips, chugging almost half of it in one go. It god rid of his dry throat, but the temptation to down the other half was proving to be hard to resist, so he decided to focus his attention on the ring for the time being, where a team of boys were currently trying to rope a snoozy calf.

He was just hoping the distraction would make the drink in his hand last a little longer... but that’s when he saw the beautiful girl he’d met at the Saloon standing there, with her arm tangled with a tall, handsome belvidere. The sight caused Harry’s stomach to sink a little further down his body. And Christ, he didn’t know if there was any use in beseeching, but once he noticed the man’s other arm kept the hold of another woman, he couldn’t help but to wish from the recesses of his heart for the beauty in the high-waisted skirt and tucked in blouse to be the unfettered one.

As if she could sense his staring, the girl peeked over her shoulder, looking away immediately as their gazes met. However, it didn’t take long until Harry spotted her skittishly glancing back at him over again. In a sudden outbreak of bravery, Harry nodded and sparked a rabbity smile at her. She greeted him back the same way. That couldn’t not be a good sign, right? He was pondering on coming over and properly introduce himself to her, when he got interrupted by a unexpected guest.

“Howdy.” Avriel, one of his work mates saluted, taking the available spot next to Harry on the counter. The boys shared a beer and engaged into small conversation for a bit, mostly talking about the venue and having a laugh at the lack of skill of the kids attempting to ride an old goat in the second ring. “Aren’t you from Horse’s Road?” Avriel asked, suddently remembering a previous conversation they’d had.

“Born and raised.” Harry confirmed, taking the last gulp of his beer.

“So you can ride a bull, right?”

Harry pursed his lips, tilting his head from side to side. “Sort of…”

“You should sign up for the contest then,” Avriel good-naturedly suggested. “I would if I could, but my crooked spine won’t let me.” Harry srunched up his nose and shook his head at the suggestion. He was already uncomfortable enough with the heat as it was, didn’t need to add physical activity and dirt to the mix. “They’re paying good money this year. 250$ for the first prize, 75$ for second and third.”

Harry let out a little dumbstruck whistle at the large ammount. “Is the entry free?”

“Completely free.” The bartender butted in on the conversation. “Hey! You two! There’s a gentleman over here that wants to sign up for the contest!” He screamed back at the some cowboys reclining against the barricades, making Harry’s eyes widen.

“I actually hadn’t decided yet...” His face was terror-stricken, once the two men came rushing over. To be fair, Harry was never the most skilled bull rider, matter of fact, he couldn’t even point out the last time he’d riden a bull. Back home, he wouldn’t have hesitated to take the lucky shot, but there was a pretty girl in the audience that he was trying to impress… And he wasn’t so sure this was the best way to go about it.

“What’s your name, son?” The older man inquired, pulling out a sheet of paper and a pencil from his shirt pocket.

“Uh…” Harry stalled, “It’s Harry… Styles.” He mumbled as he watched the man hastily scribble his name in a piece of paper. He ripped it out and handed it to him with a polite nod. Harry took a quick glance at it, folding it in half before saving it inside the pocket of his trousers.

May God be with me, the boy thought as he ordered another beer, hoping the alcohol would help calm the ants in his pants.

He kept on waiting by bar, stomping the heel of his boot against the dry soil and chewing on his fingers impatiently as he heard the riders names being called. With his job, he’d naturally seen cows up close and personal quite often. Howbeit, he couldn’t deny that the large bucking bull before him was giving him the heebie-jeebies, especially since no man had been able to sit on it for longer than 7 seconds without getting launched into the air.

“And finally our last contestant, yet another brave gentleman.” A pounchy, well-groomed cowboy announced. “Give it up for mister…” He held the paper closer to his face and squinted his eyes. “Harry Styles.”

Harry swallowed thickly as the crowd cheered for him with little enthusiasm. Out of all the ways one could die in the west, being projected into the afterlife wasn’t exactly the most unfavorable or disreputable death he could think of… But in case he didn’t happen to die, it would still feel quite humiliating to nose dive into excrement in front of a large crowd and, especially, the beautiful young girl he had been trying to find the guts to court.

“All good, cowboy?” One of the men holding the barricade shut asked, and Harry nodded firmly. He breathed heavily through his mouth, trying to calm the nervous pinch he could feel in his stomach as he spreaded his legs and lowered himself until his backside was firmly sat on the bulls back. “Ready?” The same man asked in a compelling tone.

“As ready as I’ll ever be…” Harry granted, adjusting the hat on his head before he grabbed steadily onto the rope tightened around the bull’s torso. He pressed his eyes shut and focused on the countdown. “1… 2…” He tried to ignore the spine-chilling thoughts taking over everytime his eyes landed on the bull’s enormous horns, pointy and positioned right in front of him. “3.” Harry couldn’t help but to yelp out loud once the barricades opened and the bull leaped out, jumping in circles around the arena.

Harry’s brain felt like complete mush. All he could focus on was the fragile looking rope and the few strands of the bull’s rigid fur he was trying to keep a hold on to as it relentlessly reeled and kicked the air. With every wallop, Harry’s back arched forward and his butt jumped further away from place. He kept waving one of his arms in the air, trying to keep a steady balance but quite frankly the bull was relentless.

Harry’s eyes darted at the audience once he noticed Valerie’s figure standing there and cupping her mouth in shock, but unfortunantly he couldn’t even get a good glimpse of her face before the bull gave a powerful jerk and sent Harry’s narrow body off it’s back like it was nothing. Surprisingly though, mainly for Harry, he ended up landing on his feet.

The first thing he did once his soles dropped firmly over the sandy ground was letting out a long and relieved sigh but the bull was still dangerously springing around him, so he quickly backed to the barrel, staring at the time keeper. “6.2 seconds.” The man announced. “What makes him our forth best timer! Congratulations sir!” Harry shook his head in defeat. Don’t get him wrong, he was more than thankful that he managed to come out of that bull’s back still in perfect health, but he couldn’t deny that not winning a money prize for so little was annoying, to say the least. Especially since the money would’ve honestly done him some good. “Tough luck.” Someone commented from behind him, sympathetically patting his shoulder once before walking off.

“Tell me about it...” Harry mumbled to himself, kicking at the sand with the point of his boot as he did so.

His mood picked up though, once he felt a smaller and notably gentler hand touching his opposite shoulder. “You cut a figure out there, cowboy!” The stunning girl charmed, bending over the barricade to approach him with a dazzling smile on her lips.

Harry’s cheeks warmed at the compliment. “Thank you, miss.” He watched the gentleman next to Valerie bend over the fence and reaching out his hand to help him climb out of the ring. Harry took it as he aped up the bars, although a little begrudgingly. “Pardon my intrusiveness but I don’t think I’ve asked for your name yet…” He said, landing steadily on his feet for the second time that day.

“You haven’t…” The girl confirmed. “My name’s Valerie Bluebell,” She introduced herself. “This is my cousin Noyes… and his spouse Anetta.”

Harry breathed out in relief at the news that the bird was uncompromised after all… or at least not consorting with the handsome man that was Noyes. “Harry Styles.” He introduced himself back, shaking the other man’s hand with cordial grasp, and bowing down to greet Anetta and Valerie. “I take great pleasure in seeing you again, miss.”

Valerie wished he would’ve taken her hand instead, like he did that day at the saloon. But in all fairness, considering they were mere acquaintances, Harry would have to be a very shameless man to take her hand first in front of her relatives. “Indeed, Mr. Styles.”

Harry’s eyes gleamed with obvious infatuation as he timidly beamed at Valerie. “Oh, just call me Harry.”

Anette and Noyes traded a insightful look between them. Only a fool could not notice the way the pair were completely spellbound by one another’s presence. “Um, Noyes.” Anette pointedly cleared her throat. “Why don’t we just go take a look at the other ring and let your cousin and Mr. Styles catch up with a little more privacy?” She suggested, tangling her arm with her husband’s and giving him a little push.

Although Noyes seemed a little more uptight about leaving his cousin’s side, he ended up following his wife’s lead and walking off a couple of meters onwards, just enough to give the pair some elbowroom. “Can I offer you a drink, miss? Are you a whisky appreciator?” Harry ventured to ask, after a couple of seconds of shy smiling and lumbering silence.

“So… Harry.” Valerie tested the name on her tongue, and Harry loved the way the syllables dripped from her lips with such natural sweetness. “What’s your business in Gravefort?”

“With Ginger, yes…” Valerie confided. “But I’d prefer an Apple Jack if you please…” She suggested with modesty, figuring that it would be best to be sincere about her tastes from the start.

“An Apple Jack for the lady it is then…” Harry chimed after her, loud enough so that the bartender could hear him and get to make her a drink.

“You know, just the usual... A job opportunity came up for the summer.” The boy elucidated briefly. “Same as most fellas around here, I’m sure.” He dismissed the topic, not wanting to make the focus of the conversation about himself. He’d much rather know all about her. He wanted to know about her childhood, what her favorite season of the year was, but most of all, he wanted to know what she saw when she looked at him.

He wondered if she liked his eyes as much as he liked hers. Women usually always claimed they looked lovely… Either their blueish green color or something about the way they gleamed when he smiled. Harry couldn’t really remember their exact words, especially once the girl asked him another question. “Does that mean you’re working at the new railroad?”

“No, no...” Harry enlighted “I came for a job at that big grange close to the post office... You know, the one with two floors and blue shutters.”

For some reason, his answer made Valerie’s eyes widen and her mouth open in awe. “That’s such a nice property!” The girl cooed out loud. “I’ve always wondered how it looked on the inside...”

“Oh no, I didn’t mean…” Harry exclaimed, only now realizing that the words that came out of his mouth sounded an awful lot like a vulgar sex invitation. “Miss Valerie… I didn’t mean…” He placed his drink next to Valerie’s discarded one and reached for her hand instead, making both of their hearts effortlessly skip a beat as their fingertips touched. “I swear I only meant ‘cause the owner doesn’t allow the workers inside the house.”

Harry let out a chuckle at Valerie’s wishful suspire. “I would love to show you the house, but I’m afraid the best I can do is give you a tour of the cattle barn.”

Harry got distracted, once the bull’s horns collided loudly against the ring fence, preventing him from seeing the indignation taking over Valerie’s features. “Excuse you?” Valerie gasped, placing the drink back on top of the counter loudly. “Thank you for the drink Mr. Styles, but I do not appreciate invitations of that nature… and I certainly believe that I deserve better than a barn lay. Have a good day.”

She didn’t reply to him right away, too blown away by the warm jitters running up her hand and forearm from where Harry’s wrapped fingers were. “Right...” She sounded breathless, voice coming out simultaneously husky and pitchy. “What kind of job do you do at the grange then, Mr. Styles?”

Harry pinched his lips, trying to hide the nervous giggle crawling up his throat. She looked marvelous. Eyes bright like wild cherries and almost as dark as the long strands of hair she’d conservatively tied into an updo today, her nose was straight, yet slightly hooked at the tip, mouth full and pink like cactus flowers and oh, how Harry wished to find out if it tasted as sweet and pulpy as prickly pears. “A little bit of everything...” He managed to spurt out. “But I have to admit bulls aren’t really my area of expertise...”

“What is then?” She asked with genuine inquiringness.

“Horses...” Harry rebuffed, his cheeks growing slightly pink at the confession. “Especially the wild ones.”

“Holy cow! So you’re a bronc buster, are you?” The girl said excitedly. “It’s why you were so good riding that bull, isn’t it?” Harry didn’t want to put his foot in and ruin his chances with the girl by letting her down two times in a row, so he decided to leave out the fact that he’d just striked it lucky when it came to the bull and focused on his job instead.

“I’m just a horse wrangler…” He admitted, feeling a little embarassed that he might have accidentally made himself seem better than he was. “Horses like me, you know? And I like them as well…” He shrugged. “I know I could make some actual if I invested in my skill, but I believe broncos are wild for a reason, and that’s the way it should stay…” He carried on. “I’ve only kept Kiwi because the idiot foal kept following me around like I was his mare.” Harry snorted a laugh at the memory. “Practically grew up together, him and I…”

“You know,” The girl started, shyly fiddling with her white lace gloves. “I’ve heard indigenous tribes say animals are drawn to good natured people who have healing energy within their hearts…” Valerie’s eyes finally drifted from her gloves to Harry’s truly angelic face, just in time to catch his lips curling with a touch of bashfulness.

“I don’t know if that’s true, miss Valerie…”

Sanderson Acres, Dallas. 18th of April, 1892

“What were you thinking about?”

Harry simpered, deviating his eyes away from the blown out moon to look at his mate. “My Cherry.” He admitted coyly, reaching out his hand and pulling at the tall and slightly humid grasses both men were laying over.

“A woman, heh?” Niall asked with a knowing grin that Harry reciprocated a little shyly.

“Not just a woman...” Harry confessed, as he entertained himself with tearing some grasses into smaller pieces and throwing them back carelessly. “She’s my everything.” He disclosed as he threw the last piece away.

Crossing his hands over his stomach, the cowboy focused his gaze on the night sky again, carefully observing the stars shining above his head. He asked himself what Val could be up to at the moment... Could she be staring at the same night sky? Could she be thinking about him too? He wondered what she looked like now… He had no doubt she would still look beautiful…

He pressed his eyes shut and tried his hardest to remember every single detail of her. The collection of dark strands falling perfectly over the bones of her collar and down as she pulled her single braid apart, the way her eyes gleamed and her lips twisted into a smile everytime he pulled her into his lap and called her his lucky charm, the way her breasts rose, compressed by the material of her low-cut corset and that sweet, sweet…

“So when was the last time you saw this girl?” Niall questioned, breaking Harry away from the luscious recollection clouding his mind.

The boy cleared his throat, disquieted with the question. “A while ago…”

“So do you just write eachother letters?” His friend spat another question, mostly out of curiosity.

“Not really, no.” Harry affirmed, his chest filling with remorse at the thought. “We haven’t really spoke since I left…”

The other brunette boy arched his brow questioningly. “So how do you know the bird hasn’t married someone else in the meantime?” He popped the question, sparing a brief look towards Harry before he closed his eyes again.

The cowboy huffed, resting his head over his forearms, that were now bent behind his head. “Well, I don’t…” He paused, taking a deep breath of the humid mountain air. “She wouldn’t do that though… Not my Cherry… She promised herself to me.” Harry maundered, mainly trying to reassure himself.

“Did you compromise with her old man or something?”

“No, she…” Harry started, but stopped halfway. “We’re different, alright? This isn’t an arranged marriage… We actually care about eachother.”

Niall’s eyes widened in surprise at his friend’s confession. “Well, no offense Nightingale but... ” He scratched the back of his head apprehensively. “Leaving a woman unattended in a place filled with rabid dogs with just a lick and a promise, that ain’t very smart of you.” Harry remained silent, contemplating over his mate’s words. With his tender heart growing heavy and disquiet and a tight knot forming on the tip of his stomach at the thought of someone else having his most cherished treasure.

“Don’t lose your sleep over it…” The other boy advised confidently. “You’re a handsome chap, and I’ve noticed you cut a swell with the ladies… I’m sure you’ll find yourself a nice rib in no time...” Harry forged half a smile, but as soon as he watched the man adjust the sacking behind his head and pull his hat down to conceal his eyes from the bright moonlight, he focused on the starry sky again. Wide eyed and distressed, he allowed for the dark and begrudging thoughts to cloud his once negligent mind... What if Niall was right? What if she really found someone new?

“I’ve told you already, I don’t do that sort of thing.” The girl insisted, and Agnes gave her a long, scrutinizing look. “Judith’s right, you know?” She leaned over the counter, what made her dress ride up her leg a few more inches. Something that caught the attention of the quarrelsome group of boys, who were still partially wrestling to try and steal Judith away from the old man. “Look…” Agnes called in a hushed tone. “If you’re scared of getting knocked up, there are many other things you can do without actually getting to put it up there… And even if you do, as long as he doesn’t finish ins-”

Sitting in and staring at the grange had become sort of a monthly ritual for Valerie.

Each and every second Sunday of the month, she would walk to the post office with the goal of picking up her dad’s mail. She would always stay for a 5 minute chat with the receptionist, Mr. Turner, who had been a family friend for longer than she could remember.

After being handed her monthly mail, she would reach for the doorhandle and twist it open with the intention of leaving, but as soon as she felt the warm dusty wind caress her face, she’d remember him. His hands, his lips, his hold. And then she couldn’t stop herself from asking the pitiful question. “There isn’t any other mail for me, is there?” Only to be met with the same heartbreaking answer every time.

Then, she would cross the street and sit on the same hay bale, the one outlooking the grange with the blue shutters. The building was so large that Valerie swore she could find different details in it every time. That day, she noticed the paint in the shutters was peeling around the corners, unsurprisingly overburnt by the western sun. Then, she observed the group of cattle workers ahead of her, attempting to repair a piece of broken fence. Although she’d seen them around, she realized she wasn’t familiar with any of their names, but then again, why would she bother to learn them? The faces changed every summer.

As she walked back home after long minutes, Valerie was surprised to find Bonney browsing outside the house, since her dad was usually never home until a little before dinner time. But what was even more unnusual was that the old mare wasn’t alone... There was another horse keeping her company… A well-groomed coal colored stallion she’d certainly never laid eyes on before.

She didn’t stand for any longer outside, fearing that for once in her life she might have actually lost track of time due to her secret wallowing and missed the 3 o’clock dinner mark. If that was the case, she would probably find Monty sitting at the kitchen table with a very displeased look in his face and an even more unpleasant half-eaten plate of cold baked goods in front of him.

She pushed the door open, cringing when the hinges made a rusty sounding noise. “What took you so long? Did the mail coach get lost in the English fog?” He questioned in jest from the living room once he heard his daughter walk inside. “Sorry daddy. I’m going to go get the table ready.” Valerie appologized, removing the letters from the lace pocket over her lap and shoving them inside the mail drawer in a jiffy.

“Set the table for three. I’ve brought company for dinner today...” Valerie’s eyes narrowed with consternation. “Actually, why don’t you come over here and say hello to our guest?”

Ever since Valerie turned 15, Monty had made it his mission to assure his daughter married well. With that purpose in mind, throughout the 7 years that passed, he'd been introducing her to any wealthy, polite and lawful gentleman that he assumed she would be partial to marry one day... Tall, short, bald, hairy… He'd tried everything! Assuming she’d eventually take a liking to one of them. She hadn’t. Therefore, when she arrived at the room’s door and saw her dad accompanied by yet another tall, clean-faced gentleman, she wasn’t so surprised.

She knew why he was here.

Just by looking at the collar of his shirt, Valerie could tell he wasn’t the average penny-maker cowboy. His trousers were nicely fitted. The complete opposite of Harry’s, since he always got them made loose, fearing that they wouldn’t fit him the following year…

His boots couldn’t have more than two springs of use and the gold chain dangling from his vest, that had definitely been made by a good tailor, really left no room for doubt. “Valerie, this is Mr. Otis Montgomery.” Monty introduced. “He’s the son of Brokenbrook’s Marshal. I believe you’ve met Mr. Abraham before at last winter’s festivities. If my memory serves me right Otis, you couldn’t make it because you were in a meeting with…”

“I was in a meeting with Mr. Smith, yes.” He finished the sentence. “Houston’s mayor.” He clarified once he realized Valerie’s indifference towards the revelation. Did he really think he was going to win her heart by bragging about some bigwig she didn’t know?

“It was a pleasure to meet you sir.” Valerie curtsied respectfully.

“You can shake his hand, Valerie.” Monty propounded. “It’s not like he’s a stranger, is it?” Valerie knew her dad well enough to discern that his dry laughing was a cloaked admonition for her to show a little more interest. So she swallowed the urge of saying that her greeting manners were her business to decide and extended her hand for Mr. Moneybags to take.

“With all due respect, I’m delighted to find neither of our dads deceived me…” Otis said, encapsulating Valerie’s hand in both of his. “You truly are a beauty, Miss Valerie.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery.” He wasn’t so bad himself if Valerie was honest. Tall and slim figure, nicely matched outfit, handsome features and smile... If only his black hair was a little longer and his eyes a little kinder, perhaps he could’ve gotten her to consider. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some homemaking to finish in the kitchen.”

“Of course.” The man granted, taking a conspicuous look towards the sheriff, that was attentitively watching the interaction with a hopeful look in his eyes. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you a little better over dinner, miss.”

“Indeed.” Valerie paltered, mostly out of politeness, excusing herself and moving to the kitchen. If she’d knew her dad was expecting a guest, she would’ve made a proper supper. Perhaps even bake one of them fancy condensed milk pies her dad was so fond of… But now, with an empty pantry and a hungry guest waiting, she truly didn’t know what to do with herself.

Valerie ended up settling for a pot of black bean soup. It was not the best meal she’d ever cooked, but it was quick and filling. And the fresh tomatoes, leeks and bell peppers did wonders to mask the strong taste of the beans. She served it with bread and roasted some apples for desert. Thankfully, Otis didn’t seem to mind the simple meal, matter of fact, he even complimented the texture of the beans, saying that they were cooked to perfection. Poor guy, little did he know that they had come straight out of a can.

Dinner was going surprisingly smoothly, if Valerie said so herself. Not that she was participating much on the men’s conversation, but she wasn’t feeling completely dreaded hearing about Otis’s family orchard and his details on the house he was planning to build next to it.

Occasionally, when her dad was distracted crumbling pieces of bread and sinking them into his soup, the young man would take a glimpse in Valerie’s direction and wink his eye at her. She would either flash him a cordial smile or pretend not to notice it, mostly the last one. “So, Otis, I trust you’ve heard about the Red Hand Gang?” The sheriff questioned, once he eventually caught Mr. Montgomery staring at his daughter, who swallowed thickly at the mention, incredulous that her dad had decided to bring up what had always been a forbidden topic inside the house.

“Well, certainly.” Otis confirmed, seeming rather unapologetic about his ogling. “Who hasn't?”

“A few of years ago, one of the punks tried to court my daughter, can you believe it?” Monty let out a humourless chuckle.“That fucker… If I could get my hands on him, I’d put him to death myself.” He waved his fist in the air to reinforce his anger, but Valerie knew better than to pay no mind to a grumpy 60 year old’s hazarding.

If one thing, she should be worrying about her dad’s health. After all, not only was Monty blind as a bat, he was also apparently naive enough to believe he could come victorious out of a frey with a cowboy in his prime. Of course Valerie trusted Harry would never willingly do anything to harm a spunky old man, but she also believed that his cowboy instincts might speak louder than his solemnity if Monty dared to point his crumbling rifle at him.

“Is that so?” Otis inquired, flashing Valerie a tickling smile from his end of the table, she returned it the best she could, but there was no hiding that the conversation was making her insides feel like they were getting tied in a knot. “And what’s that man’s name, if I may ask.”

“They call him The Nightingale.” Monty clarified, much to Valerie’s dismay. “Aparently he has a good singing voice… He likes to use it to distract the passengers while the others do the dirty work.” Monty scooped a piece of soggy bread into his mouth, chewing it as he spoke. “A coward is what he is, nothing but a chiseler. Dares him set foot in Gravefort again, I’ll end him.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that much if I were you, Mr. Bluebell…” Otis carried on, wiping his mouth with the napkin he carried with him. “Word on the street is that they’ve caught ‘em somewhere up east last month. I’m sure they’ve all been wiped out by now.”

Valerie’s expression fell as she put down the spoon she had been eating her soup with. There was a trapping cold taking over the entirety of her frame, biting from the edges of her hair to tips of her toes. “He’s not dead.” She stated firmly, with her mortified gaze locked onto the soup platter placed in the middle of the table.

Her audacious statement made Monty accidentaly drop his own spoon over the table, it ricocheted and fell on the house flooring. The metallic sound echoing loudly inside the four walls of the dining room where a uncomfortably quiet athmosphere had just settled.

“Valerie Cassidy…” Monty reprimanded, as a warning for the young girl to keep her mouth shut. But Valerie couldn’t listen, all that she could hear were Otis words that kept ringing inside her ears like a haunting Melody.

“No, he can’t be...” She didn’t notice it, but she was trembling in her seat, lip quivering and eyes brimming with tears as she spoke. “You’re a liar!”

“Enough!” Monty censured with a punch on the table, before Valerie could spoil his arrangement any further. “Mr. Montgomery, you’ll have to excuse my daughter’s behaviour. She’s a very sensitive girl.” The sheriff mediated, but Otis didn’t seem too phased or shocked by Valerie’s claims. It was more like he was nettled that he had to watch the situation unfold.

Without further ado, Valerie picked herself up from the table and recoiled inside the house’s single room. But as she suspected, it didn’t take long for her furious dad to break through the door asking for justifications, only fueling Valerie’s distressed state more.

“I will not tolerate that kind of deranged behaviour under my roof, young girl.” He chastised, pointing his finger in Valerie’s direction.

“It was your own fault for bringing him up in the middle of our dinner.” Valerie muttured, staring outside through the window. “Wheter he’s dead or not, it’s with him that my heart lies.” She stated calmly. “You can try all you want, I’m not marrying Mr. Montgomery or any other men of your liking. If all I’m destined for in marriage is cooking supper and sewing socks, I only want that with a man that loves me, not one who's only looking for a wife because he feels he’s at the age to settle down.”

“You think that bandit cared for you, huh? Foolish girl!” Monty spat in a ridiculing tone, making Valerie’s face involuntarily contort into sorrowful scowl. “All he wanted was to get his nasty hands up your skirt. He would’ve dumped you as soon as he deflowered you, had you given him the chance!”

“Well, he did!” She outbursted. “Is that what you wanted to know, father? He did it, ‘cause I let him.” Before Valerie could tell it was coming, she watched her dad pull his hand back. She heard the heavy palm jab against her cheek before she felt the burn. “You hit me...” She gasped, cupping the side of her stinging face. Valerie remembered receiving the occasional lash from her parents when she misbehaved as a child, but ever since Monty’s wife had passed away, he’d never raised his hand to his daughter again. Valerie supposes that over her past 22 years of existence she’d never really given him a reason to. “You had no right…” She sniffled, looking straight into her dad’s brooding eyes.

“I didn’t raise a daughter to behave like a whore.” The dad rasped, before the silence settled, only to be broke by him again soon after. “And from today on, you’re no longer allowed to keep working at that foul place. Being around all those men and those… unhinged women has clearly started getting to your head.” With one last look at his daughter’s broken expression, the sheriff left, shutting the room’s door behind him.

Valerie could tell he was already starting to feel remorseful, but she was a grown woman now, certainly too old to accept this sort of rough treatment coming from a man’s hand.

So without further ado, the girl let her own hand drop from her cheek and walked to her dresser, rummaging through her dresses and the few other belongings she owned. She knew that if she gave up her job in order to keep living under her dad’s roof, she’d be bound to marry one of her suitors sooner rather than later. And if she carried on refusing to, he’d probably end up sending her away against her will to marry a complete stranger.

Well, Valerie would rather starve to death!

You can read part 2 here

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anyoneseenadam · 3 years

Text

Home: Chapter Six

azriel x reader (acotar)

summary: (y/n) is a daughter of Persephone, still recovering from the trauma of her fall into Tartarus and doesn’t have time for a stupid, handsome, annoying, stunning, injured man. But now they’re stuck together in the middle of nowhere and there only chance of getting home is if she can heal him, and fast.

warnings: big spoilers for mark of Athena and house of Hades, also for the acotar series, eventual smut, blood, PTSD, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries and torture, enemies to lovers so az is a bit of a dick to start, swearing, THIS PART HAS SMUT YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED but it is very soft

word count: 3.2k

dress featured: x

a/n: this part was gonna be super fluffy and lovely but of course i cant do that so it’s quite angsty lol sorry. BUt Percabeth make an appearance and we love them so I think that evens it out :) I also apologise if there are any mistakes I wanted to get this out ASAP because I have exams coming up :( pls comment it genuinely makes my day i get so happy when people comment, anyway enjoy!

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Azriel wasn’t entirely sure he would ever get over ‘Captain America: The Winter Soldier’, or any other Marvel movies for that matter, having cried when Bucky was revealed, or when Pietro died making you practically piss yourself with laughter as you muttered something along the lines of “Just wait.”

When the sun began to rise you had turned the laptop off, pulling him in tightly as you pulled the thick duvet over you and proceeded to snore softly with your head pressed over his heart and your other hand reaching out and clutching your favourite soft toy. He thinks he maybe got three hours of sleep, but he laid with you the whole morning, addicted to the heat emitting from you and the way the whole room seemed to be resting as you slept, the breeze swaying the curtains matching that of your gentle breaths and the plants drooping as they too relaxed.

When you did wake, Azriel found his way between your legs, determined to wake you up properly. Your soft cries were like music to his ears, and he made you cum three times before you were pushing his shoulders away, shaking from over-stimulation, and climbing on top of him, sinking down slowly, letting yourself feel every inch. As he sat back, his hands resting on your waist to guide you when you became breathless, holding tightly and occasionally thrusting up into you when the pace became to slow for his taste. You reached a hand to his wings as his thumb found your clit, and you kissed sloppily as you searched for release.

Soon, you fell on top of him as he grunted, hips stalling as you whined into his open mouth. He slowly pulled out and wrapped his arms tightly around your middle, the two of you laying silently simply enjoying the others presence. You soon looked up at him and gave him a breathless smile, pecking his jaw, before swinging your legs over the side of the bed and grabbing a robe of the floor. You made your way to the record player and filled the room with the sound of the Bee Gee’s, Azriel closing his eyes and letting the foreign sounds consume him. You sat down at your vanity and started putting on your jewellery, all the movements practiced, and he cracked open an eye watching you string necklaces with crystals hanging from them around your neck. He laughed as you sang along to the song, flirty eyes catching his as you swayed from side to side.

“More than a woman…” you sang softly as you pulled lacy panties up your legs and rubbed fruity lotion into your legs and hands, waving your hands to dry them before pushing of numerous rings. He sat up in bed, watching you intently as you moved to your wardrobe and pulled out a pretty off-the-shoulder, white dress with frills and faint flowers decorating it. You dropped your robe and pulled on the dress, shaking your hair out and turning to walk over to him. The golden light from the window coated you and you look like you belonged in the Day Court as your skin was cast in the glow, it seemed to weave around you alike a halo and he was struck by how angelic you looked.

“I’m gonna go wash my face,” you said, pressing quick kiss to his lips and giggling sweetly when he tried to chase your mouth for more, pulling away and leaving the room, blowing a kiss in his direction.

He stood, a love-drunk smile on his face as he went about finding his boxers from the night before and pulling them on, grimacing at the tight fit, before he wandered to the drawer you had pulled them from, laughing when he found men’s joggers as well and pulling them on. When he turned to find a top he was instead greeted by a middle-aged man in running gear. He reached for truth-teller, moving into a fighting stance, his shadows swarming around him menacingly and silently begged that you would stay in the bathroom to avoid seeing any blood.

“At ease Azriel, I won’t hurt you.” The strange man said, not actually looking at him and instead typing furiously on his phone.

“How did you get in here?” Azriel asked gruffly, assessing the man to see if he had weapons.

The man waved a hand through the air dismissively, “You are not supposed to be here you know.”

“What do you mean?” He was still uncomfortable at the fact the man knew his name, and now he was insinuating that he knew that Azriel wasn’t from this world.

“Stupid Aphrodite and her hopeless ideals messing up the routes so you could meet (y/n). The fates won’t be happy if you don’t return soon, and even worse Persephone will lose it if she thinks her daughter has been dragged into any messy situations like this, so you boy, are going home, come on.” He beckoned to Azriel, but he didn’t budge.

“Who are you?” He demanded as the man rolled his eyes.

“Hermes, messenger God, now come on I don’t have all day.”

“What did you mean by the fates?”

Hermes sighed deeply, muttering something about a pay raise under his breath before he finally looked up at Azriel. “Some soulmates simply just aren’t meant to meet I’m afraid, why do you think we wrote so many tragedies. If a Greek is born lucky enough to have a soulmate they will likely be from another world, and that means they cannot be together. I know you think she is your mate, but she must stay here, she’s not even immortal it would be cruel. I told Aphrodite to not let you two meet and that it would just end in heart-break, but she didn’t listen, felt bad for the girl or something, but either way you need to leave now.”

Azriel opened his mouth to reply but couldn’t find the words, you really were his, his mate, but now he was being told that he couldn’t be with you. He tried to reply again but before he could you were floating back into the room, smiling widely when you saw Hermes.

“Hermes, long time no see. What calls you to my humble abode?” you asked, moving to Azriel’s side and laughing when he still didn’t put down his dagger, “It’s okay Az, Hermes is actually one of the nicer ones.”

Hermes laughed at the compliment, but sadness shone in his eyes as he looked upon you.

“You look happy,” he said, a regretful look suddenly over-coming his features, yet Azriel couldn’t feel any sympathy for the man that was going to hurt his mate.

“I am.” You said, gazing up at Azriel with soft eyes, and Hermes placed his buzzing phone in his back pocket.

“My child, it’s time for Azriel to leave,” he said softly, your head whipping around to look at him.

“What?” The sharpness of your tone surprised Azriel. He had grown used to your soft side that spoke to flowers and baked homemade bread, but now he was remembering the broken part of you that was part God and build walls up in seconds. He placed a hand on your lower back as the room suddenly shuddered under your power, all plants awakening.

“You two were never meant to meet, Aphrodite just wanted you to meet him after your fall, but she forgot that he would have to return, I’m so sorry.” Your eyes filled with tears as you tried to make sense of what was happening, snarling at the God.

“No but this has nothing to do with the Gods, it- he got here on his own, we met by chance,” You were shaking as you tried to explain, sadness and confusion battling anger, and Azriel thought he could hear his heart break.

“I’m sorry child, I have to take him back. He only got here because of Aphrodite.” You were shaking your head, tears flowing freely now, gripping his arm and Hermes approached.

“NO, no there must be another way, please don’t take him from me! I need him, I love him, please don’t do this!” Hermes, shockingly, also appeared to be close to tears as he rested his hand on Azriel’s shoulder, his body going numb as he was pulled from you, unable to fight back.

“(y/n), baby, I’m sorry, I’ll figure this out okay I promise. I’m not leaving you here.” He didn’t think he would ever feel this much pain again as he watched the woman he loved sob, trying desperately to hold onto him as he was pulled from her world, the image of her collapsing to her knees as he was wrenched from her grip becoming imprinted in his mind.

He was gone. He was gone and you were alone again.

The scuffed wooden floor below you was cool as you pressed your forehead against it, sobs racking your body. You pushed yourself up and sat against the wall, checking the time on the clock. 15 minutes. You would cry for 15 minutes and then you would get him back. To many times you have just accepted your fate, but you couldn’t this time, you and Azriel met for a reason there had to be something. You wouldn’t let the anger and fear swallow you again.

When 15 minutes had past you forced your self to stand, wiping your eyes with your hand before searching for tissues. When you had blown your nose, you found an old notebook and grabbed your pen. A list, a list would organise your thoughts, you could find a loophole something had to work. You wrote down every theory you had, every book you would have to look in and every person you had to ask, sniffling, and rubbing the tears from your eyes. When you were done you found the backup burner phone you kept for emergencies and found Annabeth’s number. She picked up on the third ring and you took in a shaking breath.

“I think I need your help.”

Hermes left Azriel on the outskirts of Velaris, strangely back in his Illyrian leathers, he had apologised again, true sadness shining in his eyes, but Azriel just growled as feeling returned to his limbs. Hermes looked as if he wanted to say something but decided not to and with that left.

As Azriel shot off the ground he was struck with a sharp pain in his chest, as if being apart from her was physically paining him. He flew over his home, the city he had grown to love but even the feeling of coming home couldn’t distract from the cold that was seeping into his bones. He would destroy the Gods themselves before he let them take you from him and he fought a snarl as he pictured the hell he would make them pay for making you cry.

He landed outside the town house but before he could even open the door the wind was knocked out of him as Cassian barrelled into him in what was either a really rough hug or a tackle, it was hard to tell with Cassian sometimes.

“WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN IT’S BEEN WEEKS?!” he winced as Cassian yelled right in his ear, shoving him off him as the rest of his family, minus Amren, surrounded him. Feyre was next to hug him and he returned his High Lady’s embrace, when she pulled away he met Rhysand’s eyes, and he saw the sadness in Azriel’s, shocked as Azriel rarely let any emotion show on his face.

“C’mon lets go inside,” Rhys said, outstretching an arm for his wife. Mor, holding Nyx, followed them in and Cassian who was still glaring at Azriel grabbed his arm and tugged him in, grumbling under his breath about how Azriel hadn’t even sent a letter.

When they were all sat, including Amren who apparently just couldn’t be bothered to come greet him as she knew he was coming her way anyway, Feyre asked him what happened. His eyes instinctively found Elain where she sat huddled in the corner of an armchair, and as he took in her spectacular beauty, all he could think of was how no one compared to you. No one compared to your callused hands that had seen many fights and handled many weapons, or your scarred back that only proved how strong you truly were. No amount of beauty could ever compare to you when you had completely stolen his heart, it didn’t help that you were also the most beautiful woman he had ever met.

He paused, a small part of him wanting to keep you a secret as he feared Cassian’s flirting and the prospect of losing the woman he loved again, but as he looked upon where Cassian sat with nothing but worry for his brother in his eyes, Nesta perched next to him, back straight as usual but a hand in his brother’s, he realised he was being ridiculous. He rubbed his temples and took a deep breath, fiddling with his hands as he told his family everything.

Percy had forgotten how much he loved (y/n)’s cottage. It always smelt of cinnamon in winter and roses in summer and it usually had the second-best homemade goods her had ever eaten, their only flaw being the lack of blue food colouring. But he didn’t have time to dwell on how he had missed the house too much as Annabeth pulled him through the door and into (y/n)’s kitchen where she sat staring with the blank look on her face that Percy knew meant something had gone horribly wrong. She looked up when they entered and stood, practically falling into Annabeth’s arms, hugging her tightly before Percy tugged her into his own, a hand resting protectively on her head. She had always been like a little sister to him even though she was only a few months younger than him, and consistently beat him in training exercises. The first few months after they escaped Tartarus, he had brought her meals and held her when she sobbed and threw up due to nightmares, helping her through the trauma and trying not to throw up himself when Annabeth applied the ointment Will had given you to her back. When she told him of the fraught relationship she had with her father he decided that she needed someone who would be like family and had practically adopted her after they defeated Kronos, the seven, Nico and Will becoming the loving family she had always wanted.

When she pulled away, he nudged her to sit down as Annabeth started preparing chamomile tea for her in the hopes of relaxing her.

“What happened kiddo?” he asked softly, and she huffed a laugh at the nickname. He smiled when he remembered her reaction when he first said it.

“We’re literally the same age!” She threw her hands up as he laughed at her reaction.

“Doesn’t matter you’re technically younger than me.” He argued as she glared at him playfully before waving her hand, laughing when he was strung upside down by a thick vine encircling his ankle.

“Right that’s just unfair!” he laughed before adding “kiddo,” at the end, flipping her off when she rolled her eyes and let him fall and land in a heap, sitting up and rubbing his elbow.

“Rude.” He muttered but she just laughed, picking up the swords she was training with and moved to continue with her training.

They sat and listened as she explained what had happened, taking small sips of her hot tea as she went. When she finished Percy let out a soft curse.

“So Hermes just took him?” Annabeth asked, her eyebrows furrowed in a way Percy knew meant her mind was going a million miles an hour.

She nodded sadly, “there has to be something I can do right? I was finally making progress; I watched all three Iron Man movies with him.”

“That’s a lot of red,” Percy noted, and she bit her lip, nodding sadly.

“What if I never see him again?” She asked, the way her voice broke hit something inside him as he remembered how much it sucked being separated from Annabeth.

“You will.” Annabeth said with such certainty, Percy expected this faerie boyfriend to appear in the seat next to him. Annabeth lifted her bag and started pilling the books she had brought with her and (y/n) stood and moved around her living room, grabbing ones of her own.

“I figured old myths of my mum might help, y’know forbidden love and all,” she said the joke not quite reaching her eyes, but Annabeth nodded.

“I thought the same, but I also figured maybe something to do with Eurydice and Orpheus given he went to the underworld to get her back when they were separated.”

“Didn’t they both die at the end?” Percy asked and (y/n) laughed sadly.

“Shush,” Annabeth said, passing him a book and highlighter. He groaned.

“Why did I agree to this?” He asked but no one answered, and he looked up to see the two women already reading, determination covering their features, so he instead cracked his neck and picked up his own book.

Almost 10 hours later you slammed your book down in frustration, wiping your eyes roughly.

“Nothing, there isn’t one thing here. Either I do something stupid and we both die, or I need to find a way to be allowed to live in his world half the year and this one the other half.” Your shoulders slumped, “And that’s presuming I ever get to see him again, and then! Even then, I have what 70 years with him if I’m lucky. That’s nothing to him, he’s fucking five hundred years old.”

Annabeth looked up sympathetically, one hand woven in Percy’s hair as he slept with his head in her lap.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t think this has ever happened before. We might have to start looking elsewhere.”

“I just miss him. I know it’s not even been a day, but he was my soulmate, Hermes said so, he thinks I didn’t hear, but I did and now my chest actually hurts now that he’s gone. He’s gone and I don’t think he’s coming back.” You didn’t know how you had any tears left but they were flowing down your cheeks, hot against your cold hands as you wiped your face.

“You will, I promise we’ll figure something out, even if we have to go to the Gods themselves.” Annabeth smiled at you.

“WAIT!” Percy jumped up suddenly, surprising you both, given he appeared to be sleeping. “The Gods, (y/n) you never got your reward.”

“What?”

“After the battle and the fall, you were offered a reward, but you said no because you sensed you would need it in the future. This is the future you need it now you can be with him!” Percy was practically running circles around your living room, gesturing widely as his arms flailed but Annabeth had gone wholly still, doing the math in her head.

“He’s right, that could work.” You felt hope rise in your chest as Annabeth spoke, “But you would have to be specific, if we’ve pissed off Zeus he’ll try trick you, he’s kinda like a genie.” You let out a genuine laugh.

“I think I need to visit my mum,” you said, eyes bright with hope.

“But it’s September.” Percy said, and you gave him a pained smile, grimacing as you realised where you were going.

“I think Nico and I are overdue for a family dinner.”

#acotar #acowar #acofs #acomaf #acofas #Azriel #azriel x reader #percy jackson #Heroes of Olympus

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damienthepious · 3 years

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oh it’s that lizard KISSIN' tuesday!!!!

your sweet lips on my lips

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Lord Arum, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, (and i mean KISSIN), Established Relationship, Early Relationship, Kissing, Biting

Summary: Very early in their actual relationship, Rilla decides they really should figure out that whole kissing thing.

Notes: RIGHT ON HIS SCALY MOUTH!!!!!! LIZARD KISSIN', BABY!!!!!! back to my fucking roots for the (patron) finale day, and with a hozier lyric title, no less! OLD SCHOOL. Sorry i'm a little whacked out today. Bless loveyou bless. Oh right title from Like Real People Do. you knowwww.

Rilla perches on the very edge of her cushion, her knees folded beneath her, her eyes gleaming, and Damien, sitting across from her, beside Arum, struggles for a moment not to feel like a pinned specimen of moth-

And then he thinks better of it. She looks as if she might actually begin to take notes. The feeling is justified, he muses.

"Okay," she says. "Alright. Go on, then."

Damien nearly laughs despite the heat rising to his cheeks, and he manages to meet Rilla's hungry eyes for a moment before he needs to glance away and bite his lip. "Are you- are you certain that you would not like to- to- to join us, instead?"

"Oh," she laughs, "oh don't you worry about me, I'm still trying to work out best approaches. You, my brave Sir Poet, decided to just jump in, so I wanna see how you two work before I try anything myself." She pauses, raises an eyebrow at Arum. "If that's okay? I don't want to actually make you uncomfortable, if-"

"Oh, please, takatakataka," the monster grumbles. "You were watching the first time we-" he hesitates, his frill twitching enough to make a shivering noise of scales at his neck. "You were watching before," he corrects in a hiss, rolling his eyes unconvincingly, "I would hardly think your observation would be any cause for discomfort. Nevermind that I-"

He pauses again, for quite a bit longer, and when his throat begins to rumble with a worried sort of growl Damien reaches out, tentatively touching Arum's elbow. The monster glances up, then, his brow furrowed for a moment before his expression softens.

"I... I want the both of you here. Obviously. If it pleases you to watch-" he pauses again, as heat rushes to Damien's cheeks at his particular choice of phrasing, "... then I have no desire to stop you."

Rilla grins, both fond and predatory, and then she nods. "Good to know. So, get to it, will you?"

Arum scoffs, his frill half-rising around his face, and Damien bites his lip hard and drops his eyes, feeling nearly stunned with shyness, and then the lizard-

Arum glances towards him, nerves clear on his face, and then some determination slips into his expression instead, and he reaches out three hands, one to grip the front of Damien's shirt, two to cup his face, and then Arum sways closer.

"Well?" he murmurs as Damien gasps, gripping Arum's sides instinctively. "You wouldn't dare leave the little doctor waiting, would you?"

Damien manages a laugh, pinned by violet attention, feeling Rilla's gaze upon them as well, and then he tilts his head a little closer. "No, no... nor yourself, Lord Arum. I wouldn't dream of it."

He leans up, and his lips buzz with electricity as he brushes them gentle over Arum's thin mouth, the texture of his scales so utterly alluring, unfamiliar, fascinating. The monster inhales a sharp breath, whirring at the back of his throat just as he had done the first time Damien had gone up on his toes to kiss him. Damien reaches to brush his knuckles down the scales of Arum's frill experimentally, and Arum gasps again, that ticking rumble going louder.

Damien presses closer, moving his hand to cup the monster's cheek, humming against Arum's mouth, and then when he pulls back away to check Arum's face the monster sighs gently, his mouth curling into a smile.

Oh, my heart, Damien thinks, and then, so beautiful a creature, so sweet to let me-

He turns his head enough to catch Rilla's eyes, pleasure stinging deep in his stomach at the flushed, attentive look on her face.

"Are we providing sufficient data for you to work with, my darling flower?" he asks in a murmur, and Arum chuckles and tucks his face closer against Damien's neck- lazily hiding from Rilla's eyes, Damien realizes, with his frill flaring higher.

"I'm getting some pretty good ideas, I think," she says. Her expression is smug, still, but Damien knows her well enough to hear the subtle waver in her voice, to see the way she clenches her hands. "I'll show you all of them when it's my turn."

Damien laughs, and Arum peers around to give Rilla a fond sort of glare.

"You," he says flatly, "are a terrible influence."

"Saints I hope so," Rilla breathes, and Damien takes advantage of Arum's position to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Arum hisses again, turning his attention back towards Damien and exhaling through clenched teeth as if holding himself back before he leans a little closer, allowing Damien to kiss him again, cupping his face with tender care.

"Mm, all sorts of good ideas," Rilla says, her tone wavering just the littlest bit more noticeably. "And that- that works for you, then, Arum? That feels… good?"

Arum pants a breath, something between a hiss and a laugh, and then shoots Rilla a look. "It is... it is certainly something. Ridiculous, but- but not- not disagreeable. Probably a better idea than what I would like to do, anyway-"

Her eyes flash, bright with curiosity, and Arum stops and swallows at the force of her attention.

"What... what would you prefer to do, Lord Arum?" Damien asks quietly, a little abashed that perhaps the kissing had not been as pleasant to the monster as he had hoped, as pleasant as it was for Damien himself, and Arum's eyes flick back to meet his own.

"Don't," he says gently, and then he nudges his snout into Damien's lips again. When Damien sinks into the kiss, drawing his hand down Arum's neck, the lizard whirs at the back of his mouth, a whispery pleased noise, and when Damien pulls back Arum nudges his snout into Damien's cheek instead. "I only meant that- damn you for being so unutterably tempting, honeysuckle. I can hardly match your lips with mine as Amaryllis could-"

"I really don't think that matters all that much," Rilla interrupts wryly, though Damien can hear the edge of tension and delight tinging her voice brighter. "From what I can see, at least."

"I only want to... to make you feel as you make me feel," Damien says, and he knows his voice has gone a little keening despite himself as Arum tucks his face against his neck again.

"I want-" Arum inhales, exhales, growls at himself. "This close, I- your taste makes me want to bite you, honeysuckle," Arum says in a rush, and Damien can feel Arum's teeth tickle at his throat as the monster speaks. "Not- not that I-"

Damien does not think he has ever before wanted to be bitten quite so desperately.

"I don't want you to think that I- that I want to- to hurt-"

Damien tilts his head to the side, resisting the urge to actually press his neck into Arum's mouth, whispers please with little enough breath that he is uncertain if Arum can hear him, but-

But after a heartbeat Arum growls low, helpless, and nips quick and light at the crook of Damien's neck, and then he flicks his tongue out and tickles the same spot. Damien gasps, squeaks a laugh at the contact, and then Arum presses his teeth to Damien's skin again. The second bite is somewhat harder, and Damien cannot help but whine outright.

Arum exhales a panting breath against Damien's neck, then lifts his face to meet Damien's eyes again.

Whatever he finds there, the monster must be pleased with it. He smiles (Damien's heart skips, Damien could float in the air, Damien wants to see every single gentle expression this monster hides beneath frown and scowl), and then he presses his mouth to Damien's again, soft and quick and sweet.

Arum glances towards Rilla, then, and when he breathes a smug laugh Damien follows his gaze.

Rilla's expression has gone hazy, one hand fisted in front of her mouth, her lower lip pulled between her teeth, and Damien laughs as well.

"Shall we continue, love?" Damien murmurs, drawing a hand down Arum's cheek, tracing a line down his throat and watching the way that Rilla's eyes follow the motion. "Is further demonstration in order?"

She stares for another moment, and then blinks. "Wh-what? Sorry. What?"

Arum barks another laugh, surprised and fond, and Damien presses his own lips together tight and clings to Arum's shoulders to stop himself from following along with the monster as Rilla shakes her head and scowls, and then she starts to crawl closer.

"Okay," Rilla says, all bossy bluster. "Okay! I think that's enough notes! I've gathered a lot of important data and the first conclusion I've come to is- okay stop laughing come here my turn-"

She grips Arum's shoulder firm in one hand, kneeling above him and tilting his chin up with the other as she crowds close to kiss him without further preamble, and-

Damien laughs again, despite her words. If the way that Arum shivers and melts into Rilla's kiss is any indication, Damien supposes that the demonstration was rather instructive, in fact.

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #lizard kissin' tuesday #rad bouquet #sir damien #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

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demigirlravenqueen · 2 years

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Hello and welcome to part 3.5 of historically ever after the series of posts were I break down little bits of historical inspiration in ever after highs outfits because if we’re all going to spend all our time on the internet obsessing over a cartoon meant to sell dolls to little girls we might as well learn some stuff wile we’re at it.

Ravens Ruffs

(I’m very proud of that title)

Ok some background first.

What are typically known as Tudor ruffs or Elizabethan ruffs according to most of my sources started around the 1570s and apparently in the beginning they were just a little frilly bit around the collar, but they eventually got bigger, and bigger, and bigger.

okay, in fairness these extreme proportions weren’t that common in day to day life but it’s still really funny.

These ruffs were so huge they had to be supported by wire frame.

Rich wemen in particular would ware some pretty large ones and some would were these big fan shaped ones with an opening at the front. I always like to call theses ruffs half ruffs but that’s not what they’re actually called, I don’t think there’s a proper name for them.

Anyway the point I’m trying to get to is that Raven wears a lot of these.

The looks so iconic it’s starting to catch on

I count the one on her main outfit as a collar not a ruff simply because of the shape. It kind of surrounds her neck rather than goes round the back of her head.

It’s also alluded to with the turned up collar on her date night outfit.

And after that I was really stumped on what to write next because that was really all I could see. There were a few little things that were neat character design choices but they weren’t history related so I figured it didn’t belong in this post. But then I rewatched legacy day and took another look at her outfit OMG.

There is so much to break down. First thing I noticed was the opening at the front, these were fairly common in elizabethan gowns.

Then there’s the frills at the hips which reminded me of the pleats you sometimes see at the top of some noblewomen’s skirts in paintings.

And also the fabric patterns on her cape and the opening of the dress are very similar to the fabric patterns and embroidery of the time (the opening especially).

I was also able to find some paintings that show some jewellery that looks very similar to the chains she’s wearing.

And the brooch / fasten of the cloak looks fairly similar to some Tudor brooches, it has the beautiful elaborate frame with a jewel in the centre which matches most Tudor brooches I’ve seen so even though it doesn’t look exactly like one it’s similar enough.

have I mentioned how much I love Tudor brooches.

One other thing I noticed is the sleeves on their dressing gowns (or night robe or whatever you want to call it) resemble these big bell like sleeves from some dresses in the earlier Tudor era

But in the cartoon they more resemble the ruffled sleeves of the 18th century

this isn’t really that surprising, the dolls and the cartoons often have subtle differences designs which is why you’ll often notice in these posts that I go out of my way to find screenshots rather than just using the concept art that’s much easier to find. In this case I think that it’s simply because the smaller sleeves are easier to animate.

And that just about raps things up. As always feel free to correct me or add something if you want.

Part 0.5 Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

#Raven Queen #Eah #ever after high #fashion history

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montmartre-parapluie · 3 years

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Elizabeth Swann Project: Peach Gown Progress!

Hello again, friends!

Welp, this is an incredibly weird feeling. Back when I started the Elizabeth Swann Project in early March 2020, I never thought I’d actually finish my insane goal of making all the pretty dresses in the first movie - but it’s done. And it’s a very surreal feeling staring at my wardrobe hoard.

Well, not DONE, per se. Strictly speaking, there should be a golden taffeta petticoat with a quilted hem to match this gown. But the brocade petticoat from the gold gown looked really good with this when making the over-gown - to the point I decided to re-use it - and it looks pretty nice as an ensemble!

Here we have the bodice half-way done, over my stays. One of the things that meant this was an easier job than the gold or plum gown was the trim - super simple level of trimming here - minimal braid around the waistline, neckline and sleeve edges. No frills or ruchings or pleated trim. the 18-20 decorative buttons were time-consuming but not terrible to sew.

The straw hat was another re-do. I simply retrimmed an old plain straw hat I had from my re-enacting days with some spare lace and re-arranged the artificial flowers. I’m still waiting on the ribbon for the ties.

Beneath the Surface:The Foundations

lurks a wonderful, ridonkulous piece of late 18th century foundation wear - the 1780s split rump. I’ve had my eye on this insane piece of underwear for a while now, because it gives the wonderful rounded curve of the overgown when you put on your petticoats. Here’s a fuzzy picture of mine.

I bought mine, very reasonably, from a wonderful UK Etsy seller called Perfect Little Parcel. Any UK-based historical costumers should definitely check her out - she makes really nice foundation garments!

I mean, look at it here in the American Duchess Dressmaking book:

I hesitate to use the words ‘dummy thicc’ , but - this is 18th century ass celebration at its finest, and it just gives a GREAT silhouette once all the petticoats and gown is over it.

The Shoes

I was tempted to order the American Duchess Ivory Kensingtons, but my UK supplier doesn’t stock them right now - and post Brexit ordering direct got a LOT more complicated. So, I improvised with some modern suede 18th century-(ish) shaped shoes, some glue and some rayon binding in approximately the right colour. They still need either buckles or a nice rosette, I think - especially on that right shoe where the ends of the binding show. But they’re comfy and they have the right look.

I’m honestly a little bit sad to finish up the project, it was so enjoyable! I learned a lot, and it’s kept me going through the lockdown blues. Having something to plan and research and work on has been really fun, even when I’ve cut things out wrong or driven pins into my fingers by accident. I now have a hell of a dress-up wardrobe to make use of.

Just the Victorian UFOs (Unfinished Projects) to work on now, I guess... and only 2 of them to go.

Many thanks for enjoying the Elizabeth Swann journey with me, everyone! As soon as the sun re-appears I’ll try for a photoshoot of me actually in the costume.

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avtrkyoshis · 4 years

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You Burn First (zuko x f!reader) pt. 4

hii guys we really enjoyed writing this chapter there will be another ember island chapter so stay tuned for that :))

ao3 link

masterlist // chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3 //

Rays of sunlight fanned out behind her. If Y/n thought the capital city was boiling, Ember Island was even worse. The midday sun made her itch her to rip off her heavy combat robes.

“So you’ve packed the entire palace armoury. But you forgot a swimsuit?” Ty Lee said brushing her hand against Y/n’s long sleeve.

“This isn’t exactly supposed to be a vacation for me,” she responded, looking at the bag she held packed to the brim with stuff. Y/n knew she had a habit of being overly prepared. Suki and the others always joked that maybe she was a little bit too paranoid. But after everything that’s happened in her life, she couldn’t help it. If there was anything she could do to keep those around her safe, she would do it. Even if it meant looking crazy.

Her beach bag, also known as the Fire Lord Zuko emergency kit, swayed on her arm. It was filled with anything you could possibly think of. Y/n grew more concerned for the Fire Lord every day. It was her job after all. And nothing more than that. She was simply a bodyguard who cared about the person she protected. Maybe she stayed up countless nights worrying about him too. Wasn’t that normal? She thought to herself.

“Ok, so the pink swimsuit or the white one?” Ty Lee said holding up the swimsuits to her face. Y/n hadn’t taken the time to notice Ty Lee digging through her countless swimsuits on the bedroom floor of the house they were staying in. Ty Lee always had the most impeccable fashion taste. Y/n pointed at the pink swimsuit with little frills on the ends. This was sort of exciting for her. She never really had the opportunity to wear something so cute on a regular basis.

Y/n quickly changed into it and it met with the others in the living room. She walked over to where Zuko stood.

“Oh. You look…different,” he said, his face started to get flushed. It was strange they had barely been outside and he was burning already.

“Thanks?” Y/n was not sure how to respond to him. She was technically on official duty. Was she allowed to accept a compliment from the Fire Lord? She wasn’t sure if that even counted as a compliment.

“Wow, Y/n you look so cute!” Suki said. The colour of Y/n’s cheeks was beginning to match her swimsuit.

“Says you! You always look really nice Suki,” Y/n said, fumbling her words and desperately hoping that Suki did not notice how awkward she was.

“You’re darn right Y/n,” Sokka wrapped his arm around Suki and grinned.

“Wait, can someone tell me why Sokka is here again?”

“There’s a very simple reason---”

While he was explaining the purpose of his trip here, a loud boat blared it’s horn in the distance blocking out anything Sokka was saying.

“And that’s why I’m on Ember Island,” Sokka said, acting like everyone had heard him talk for the last 30 seconds. Y/n simply nodded and everyone followed.

“What’s in the giant bag Y/n? Little apple slices and extra towels for Zuzu?” Azula said while laying down a beach towel for Ty Lee.

“Actually yes. I brought snacks, sunscreen and swords. Just in case,” Y/n stated now slightly embarrassed. Was it too much? she thought to herself.

Next to Azula sat Zuko attempting to put sunscreen on his back. Azula really was right. Maybe she was more his babysitter than a bodyguard.

“I sorta need help applying it on my back,” Zuko said.

“Sure--,” she responded. But before she could fully answer him Sokka interrupted.

“Why didn’t you say so earlier, buddy! Sokka’s got you covered.” Y/n exhaled in relief that Sokka had volunteered. Would everyone get the wrong idea by her volunteering? She was just doing her job in protecting the Fire Lord.

While Sokka sat down behind Zuko, Azula said, “Why, isn’t that a forward way of asking Y/n to rub your back.”

“Azula, stop teasing them. You promised me we would sightsee!” Ty Lee grabbed Azula and took her away. Y/n was incredibly grateful for that.

“Later losers,” she winked and with that, they were gone.

Her attention was drawn back to Zuko, who had just shouted in shock as Sokka slapped the sunscreen onto his back.

“You don’t need to slap it! You’re getting it everywhere!”

“We’re in the sand! And this way it spreads faster! I put lotion on this way, don’t worry about it,” Sokka shouted back at him, aggressively rubbing the sunscreen onto Zuko’s back.

Suki appeared next to Y/n, laughing, “Yeah, and Katara keeps telling you to stop doing it that way. You got it in her eye last time.”

“She doesn’t understand efficiency,” Sokka said, standing up. He nodded proudly at Zuko’s now protected skin, satisfied that his friend wouldn’t burn.

“Wanna check him out Y/n? Bodyguard’s seal of approval!”

Y/n blushed a little at Sokka’s phrasing. She glanced quickly at Zuko, whose face was also slightly red.

“Um, he looks fine to me,” she muttered. “If he does burn though, I’m holding you responsible.”

Sokka gasped in mock offence, “I’d never allow that! I know how sensitive our precious Fire Lord’s skin is. Plus, I know not to mess with a Kyoshi Warrior.”

Y/n smiled at his comment. She could see Suki rolling her eyes at him out of the corner of her eye, but she was smiling as well.

Getting up from his spot on the beach, Zuko said, “Alright, are you done making fun of me? You know I can have you all banished. Who knows when I’ll snap.”

Sokka slapped his shoulder again, “I will never be done making fun of you. You owe me for all that time you spent trying to kill me!”

“That was years ago!”

“And it still hurt!”

Y/n leaned over to whisper to Suki, “Are they always like this?”

“Always,” Suki sighed. She let them bicker for a few moments longer before cutting Sokka off. “Okay! What do you both want to do on the beach? Sitting alone in the shade is off the table, so don’t even think about that.”

Zuko frowned, “That felt directed at me.”

Ignoring Zuko, Sokka flung his arms up in glee, “We should play chicken!”

“Chicken?” Y/n questioned.

“Yeah! That game where you sit on someone’s shoulders and try to push another person off of someone else’s shoulders! Trust me, it’ll be fun!” Sokka replied.

Y/n glanced at Zuko, who looked just as hesitant as she felt. He shifted nervously in the sand. Zuko being anxious about the game flipped a switch in Y/n, and she looked back to Sokka.

“Okay I'm in,” she said.

“Really?” Suki questioned. “I’m surprised you’re willingly relaxing. I thought you didn’t know how to.”

Y/n rolled her eyes at Suki, “Please, I know how to relax. Going along with Sokka just seems to be the most painless option.”

Zuko chuckled at her comment. Y/n started to smile at him, before realizing what had exactly happened. He had laughed. That was the first time she’d ever heard him do that and it had been at something she’d said. Up until this moment, he’d only ever lightly smiled at her. Y/n wasn’t sure how to feel about this development.

Oblivious to her crisis, Sokka was trying to decide the teams.

“Obviously it should be you with me, Suki! We’re a great team! Romantically and tactically!”

“I understand that! But isn’t it a little unfair for Y/n and Zuko then?”

Sokka made a face like he was thinking deeply and stroked his chin, “Fair enough, fair enough. Zuko and I do make a killer team too! Or should I pair with Y/n and challenge myself with an unknown teammate?”

Sensing the danger of Sokka trying to decide his teammate, Suki grabbed Y/n’s arm, “I’ll pair with Y/n. Kyoshi Warriors vs…”

“The Boys! No wait, The Swordsmen! Wait, Fire and Water!” Sokka shouted.

“I like the second one,” Zuko said.

“Is a team name that important?” Y/n asked.

“Just let him have this,” Suki whispered to her.

Y/n shrugged and the group walked towards the crashing waves. She’d never played this game before and was a little worried. She was also hesitant to go too deep into the water. Despite living on Kyoshi Island for most of her life, she wasn’t exactly an experienced swimmer. Before her panic could settle in, water was splashing just above her elbows.

“This seems deep enough! Alright Zuko, let’s go!” Sokka said, already starting to climb onto Zuko’s shoulders.

“Sokka, wait! Give me a warning next time!”

Y/n turned to Suki, “Would you do me the honour of climbing on my shoulders and knocking your boyfriend into the ocean?”

Suki dramatically put her hand over her heart, “I would love nothing more.”

Suki climbed onto Y/n shoulders much more gracefully than Sokka. Making sure she was balanced, Y/n got ready for the game to begin. She watched Sokka balancing himself on Zuko’s shoulders, allowing herself a smile as Zuko tried to blink out the water that kept dripping into his eyes. Their eyes suddenly connected and her smile turned into a challenging grin. Zuko smiled back at her, silently accepting her challenge.

“Alright, get ready… Go!” Sokka said.

He and Suki began pushing at each other’s shoulders. Y/n quickly realized how hard it was to keep her balance in the water and her feet slipping in the sand. She could see Zuko coming to a similar realization, his own inexperience showing. Despite that, Zuko held her challenging gaze. Y/n felt her competitiveness flare and she tightened her grip on Suki. No way was she about to lose to the Fire Lord.

Their game only lasted a few moments longer, ending with Suki landing a particularly hard shove against Sokka’s collarbone. He toppled back off of Zuko, causing water to soak the back of Zuko’s head. Suki let herself slip off of Y/n’s shoulders while laughing in victory. They exchanged a high five and Y/n looked back at the stunned Fire Lord in front of her. Caught up in her victory, she offered her hand to him.

“Good game, Fire Lord,” she smirked at him.

Zuko stared at her offered hand for a few seconds, before grasping it with his own and smirking back. His hand was warm despite the cool water and his grip firm. Before Y/n could release his hand, a wave hit her back, pushing her into Zuko. The water went up to her neck and a sharp panic shot through her. She’d forgotten her inability to swim amidst the excitement. Her panic clouded her mind and she reached out blindly in an attempt to ground herself. She only realized what was happening when she felt a warm hand on her back.

Y/n blinked, her eyes focusing. In her panic, she’d grabbed for the closest solid object. That had just so happened to be Zuko. They were standing in a poor imitation of a hug, her hands gripping his shoulders and his hands on her shoulder and back. He looked down at her, concern evident on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

His voice quickly cleared Y/n’s mind. She pulled her hands back from him as if she had been burned. Her reaction caused Zuko to drop his hands from her as well.

Floating back and face burning, Y/n hugged herself, “I’m fine. I’m just not used to waves and swimming.”

Zuko furrowed his brow, “You can’t swim?”

“No. I’ve never needed to learn. It’s not like there’s deep water at the palace. You don’t need to worry about me not being able to save you like this.” she replied curtly.

“I didn’t mean-”

Y/n turned away, cutting him off. She knew that was incredibly rude but she couldn’t handle talking to Zuko anymore. Her face was still flushed with embarrassment and anger now. She’d never been that close to him before. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much, she was his bodyguard. It was expected that she’d get that close to him. Y/n ignored the fact that it was supposed to be to save his life, not to hug him out of fear.

“Suki!” she shouted. Suki’s head popped out from underwater, followed by Sokka’s. “I’m going back to the beach. You keep swimming.”

Suki looked mildly concerned but gave her a thumbs up. Y/n began trudging through the water towards the beach, but Zuko caught her by the elbow. She whipped her head around, anger in her eyes.

“Wait,” he said. “I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t need to-”

“Yes, I do.” he paused, thinking. “I want to keep you company after that. You seem pretty shaken up.”

She frowned at him. He gave her a shaky smile.

“Besides, you’re supposed to be protecting me, right? It’d be irresponsible to leave me alone out here.”

“You’re with the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors and a close friend of the Avatar. Not to mention you’re literally the Fire Lord,” Y/n deadpanned.

“You think that you’re not capable of protecting me then?”

Y/n narrowed her eyes at him. She recognized his challenge as an attempt to apologize without embarrassing her further. She sighed.

“Fine, come sit with me. I’ve heard how much you like to sit in the shade and brood.”

“That was one trip!”

Together, they walked back towards the beach.

masterlist // chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3 //

taglist

@duh-dobrik @inthebisonsmouth @thaliawhitex @brbtryagainlater @paenitetmi @firelordtea @awkwardnesshabitat @eridanuswave @inmyowncorner @aangsupremacy @eridanuswave @royahllty @dancerslovelife @lammello @biblemami @coruscant-n

#you burn first #zuko x reader #zuko #atla #fire lord zuko #zuko x you #Zuko imagine #atla x reader #atla x you #avatar the last airbender #prince zuko x reader #zuko fanfic #atla zuko #zuko reader insert #Zuko x y/n #avatar x reader

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cultureaddictconfessions · 4 years

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Reporting for Romance ~ EXO’s Lay x Reader

{{Since it’s our sweet healing unicorn’s birthday today, I wanted to write a short fic centered around him. Being a very stylish ambassador-around-the-world, Lay shows up at a variety of fashion-related events, so this setting is where the reader (Y/N and Y/F/LN) is a fashion journalist who catches his eye at a show.}}

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It was still surreal to be covering the Valentino show for S/S this year, but when you queued up with your press pass, it became a more concrete happenstance. Your editor in chief would be sitting toward the front row, of course, while you were deposited elsewhere. Your phone was fully charged and at the ready for any recording purposes, and your notebook and pen were stashed in the purse precariously dangling off your shoulder. You nervously presented the badge and allowed security to rifle through your bag before crossing into the hallway.

It was a beautiful, sunny day and you could see the bright, verdant hedges wrapping around outside the glass walls of the atrium that was playing runway for the day. Seats were set out around the room on the hardwood floors. The walls were in elegant white French style, and complementary to the mirrors and chandeliers that dotted the décor. Despite how uncomplicated and traditional everything looked, you felt overwhelmed. You’d attended fashion shows before, but you’d bought your ticket with your own money so you could write up a piece to try to make a name for yourself and score a job.

Now that you had, you were choking on imposter syndrome. You stood for a moment in the hallway, tugging at the hem of your dress, which suddenly felt too short despite getting the seal of approval from your boss. You crossed the floor to a mirror to check that you were just having a minor identity crisis and not that you were styled incorrectly. You brushed over your clothes with your fingers to smooth anything that felt out of place and did the same to your hair. You pouted as you looked at yourself, still unconvinced at your reflection. Another face blurred in the corner of your periphery as you were tapping at your lipstick.

“You’re putting the mirror to good use, but you already looked nice when you came over.” Your face flushed a shade that matched the tube perched between your fingers. You turned to identify the man speaking to you and felt your heart do a somersault in your chest. He was strikingly handsome, to say the least, draped in a long, graphic coat punctuated by crisp white sneakers. His golden skin was smooth, and he didn’t have a hair out of place. But the thing that wrung your heart was his warm, dimpled smile. You sucked in your lip as you tried to remember how to breathe. Finally, you managed a chuckle that was at a higher pitch than normal.

“You can never be too careful at these types of events. One shoe unbuckled and the internet will crucify you,” you tucked your hair shyly behind your ear and let a smile pull up your lips, “thank you though. That makes me feel a little better. I just don’t want to embarrass my boss and have her banish me to the fashion closet again.” The young man laughed, and you felt some of the tension drop off your shoulders. “Are you a magazine reporter then?” “I am! This is my first time covering a show for my publication. I think that’s why I’m on-edge. I want to work hard and prove my worth so I can come back again, you know?” His eyes widened at this, but he nodded as the dimpled resurfaced. “Wow, first time! So exciting! I hope you will really enjoy it. I love to see all the beautiful clothes, so it is nice to get an invitation. I’m Lay Zhang, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

Your companion held out his hand for you to shake, and you took it gently with a sheepish grin. “I, uh… I know, actually. I’ve heard your music. You’re very talented!” his whole face brightened at your admission, but there was an expectancy lingering before you remembered yourself, “oh right! I’m Y/F/LN. It’s lovely to meet you too. That coat looks so sharp on you!” “Thank you so much. I liked the tiger because it reminds me of China, and I like animals,” he hadn’t dropped your hand but continued talking, although he seemed to be a little restrained with his speech, perhaps because English wasn’t his first language, “I’m surprised you’ve heard my work, but I’m happy to hear that you like it! I always want to work very hard and do my best, so I understand how you feel. I’m sure your writing will be great. You speak nicely.”

You had to turn your face away a little to hide the blush creeping back across it. Reluctantly, you let your hand slide out of Lay’s as you fiddled with the zipper of your bag. “I listen to a fair amount of KPop actually, so I found you through that. I can tell you really pour your effort into everything you do, and I hope that more people can see its beauty like I do,” you flashed your teeth at him, happy to direct the conversation onto him for the moment, “I’m sure the show will be amazing, but we shall see if I can do it justice. If you see it, you can tell me what you think. Criticism is encouraged.” You laughed softly.

Lay’s perfect mouth shaped into an O and he took a minute to process everything you said. “Ah, do you like EXO? I miss my members… it’s nice to get to make music in my home country, though, so I can represent it well. It would be really nice to share my music with the world. Your wish is very kind; I wish for it, too,” there was a wistfulness in his tone, but he also seemed very heartfelt, which only made you like him more, “when I read it, I will think of you and send you a message of praise, Y/N! You should believe in yourself more.” “Yes, I love you guys! Awww that’s hard. There are pros and cons to everything I suppose. I think you’re doing a really great job balancing everything. And now you’re here as a brand ambassador too, right? I’m sure China and your members are really proud of you. You should be proud of everything you’re doing and have done… and will do! If I have to be confident, then you do, too,” you leaned forward and bumped his shoulder with your own, giggling, “I would love to hear from you no matter what you think. You can message me whenever.”

Before Lay could answer, a few people swept by and noticed him, calling out greetings. He frowned to you for a moment before turning and waving congenially. It seemed like everyone was migrating into the main hall. When the passersby had dissipated, he looked back at you. “I would like to talk to you more, but I don’t think we’re sitting so close to each other and my English takes a little longer to express what I really want to say. Will you go to the party afterwards? I don’t know if you’re busy and will continue working…” It was your turn to gape at him, but you quickly schooled it into a neutral expression.

“Ummm I think I am? I have to double-check with my boss, actually. Can I tell you my answer after the show or are they going to rush you off to start mingling?” You dragged your foot in front of you on the floor, feeling a little bit like a silly schoolgirl. “I will come find you, but let’s exchange contacts now just in case it’s difficult to coordinate.” He slid his mobile smoothly out of his pocket and went to pull up a VCard, but he paused as he looked at the screen for a second. He shut off the screen and held his hand out to you, which had you puzzled until you realized he was asking for your phone. You dipped into your purse and mimicked the steps he’d just taken before placing it in his palm, fingers brushing. He tapped away in concentration before handing it gently back to you and smiling.

“I thought this would be easier because I don’t know if you read Chinese. Please send me a message and tell me it’s you so I can save your information to my phone! We can talk about things… and maybe you can help me practice my English?” It was quite a sight to see Lay beginning to blush, and you wished you could replicate that expression many times over. “You’re so thoughtful. Xièxiè. I’ll send it before I sit down, okay,” you reached out and squeezed his shoulder affectionately, positively beaming, “your English is great, but I’d definitely be happy to help with whatever you need, so no worries! Tell me whatever you can think of and then I won’t focus on feeling so awkward being here where I don’t belong.” You snorted, shaking your head. The glow returned to his face when you thanked him in Mandarin and made your promises, but he looked a little concerned at the end. It was his turn to reach out, placing a hand on your arm to command your attention. Your eyes glazed a little bit.

“Don’t say that, Y/N. You are a fashion reporter! Your company wanted you to be here. You are meant to be here. Don’t doubt yourself. Do your best and don’t forget to enjoy yourself. I will be cheering for you in my heart. Keep smiling and everything will be okay… okay?” Lay spoke without any frills, so sincere that it made you want to believe him. You had to bite back the urge to cry because he was so sweet and encouraging. Your heart was melting. “Okay. I’m just going to trust that you’re right and that I can do this. I’m really happy you came over and talked to me, Lay. It’s made me feel so much better. I’m really grateful.” Lay let his hand trail down your arm before returning to his side. You felt the warmth radiating off of him, and he seemed very pleased at your turnaround. He pouted his lips for a moment. “I’m happy too. I think we should go in now, though. Can I walk you to your seat?” “Oh! You don’t have to do that, you’re like, an actual important person! It seems like a lot of people wanted to chat with you. I feel bad that I stole you away from them for so long.” “I’m sure I will get to talk to them at some point, maybe during the show or the party. I just want to make sure you find your way and don’t feel so nervous. Come on, let’s go.”

Lay turned and placed his hand on your lower back, guiding you forward at his side. You matched his pace as you crossed under an archway and headed past the scattering of other attendees. You peeked sideways to get a glimpse of Lay in profile, not quite believing your luck. Once you neared the seats, he helped you locate your company tag. It took a few minutes. “You’re some kind of special, Lay Zhang. I’m gonna text you right now, and then we’ll see each other after, okay? You just go and look pretty! I have to turn on my ace reporter mode now!” You brandished your fists, psyching yourself up. Lay laughed, bumping a fist against yours in agreement. “I look nice because of my team, Y/N, it’s nothing,” his other hand finally slipped away from your back, a little to your chagrin, “I will look forward to it. Work hard, Miss Reporter! Then we can have fun together at the party… I hope your boss will let you come!” You covered your cheeks with your hands and grinned at him, shaking your head in amusement. “You’re too modest. Enjoy the show and we’ll catch up in a little while!” You clasped your hands together and bowed your head to him. He returned it and then walked off with a bright smile. You dropped down into your seat after you watched his retreating back, grabbing your phone. You sent off two messages—one informing your editor that you’d arrived, and the second to Lay, for him to save your contact.

[[From: Y/F/LN To: Zhang “Lay” Yixing

Ni-hao, Lay! It’s Y/F/LN, the ace reporter. Tell me afterwards which outfit you like the most, and I’ll finagle a party invitation from Kristen. ;)

Sent 2:00PM]]

You tucked your phone into your purse after silencing it and turned to face the center. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the scenery and all the beautiful people and beautiful clothes. You were about to write a note in your notebook until you caught sight of a very handsome young Chinese man looking at you and waving. Lay smiled and gave you a thumbs up. All you could do was grin stupidly and wave back. You were somewhat glad he wasn’t sitting anywhere near you because you wouldn’t have been able to concentrate if he had been. Another beautiful person came over to him and struck up a conversation, so you turned back to your paper and began writing what you saw.

The show was a confectionary of dreamy designs in vibrant colors and sumptuous materials. You noted some people were near tears. It was probably the highlight of your life thus far, besides your earlier meeting with Lay, of course. As people began to disperse, you slipped out your phone. Your editor, Kristen, had responded to your message and had you nearly hopping in glee. You looked across the panorama of the room but didn’t spot your prince of China. Collecting your things, you slowly made your way toward the entrance, although you got caught up quite a few times by writers and photographers from other publications. Kristen told you to meet her outside so you could take a car over together, but your first priority was to find Lay.

By the time you’d made it into the exiting crowd, you felt like you’d never find anyone. Just then, you felt a hand hook in the crook of your elbow. You turned and faced the stranger. “You were difficult to locate in all the people, Miss Reporter! You’re tinier than all the tall guys, you know? But here you are, I’m glad.” Lay was smiling again, and you joined him easily. “I couldn’t find you either and you’re not short! Hey, guess what,” you paused as the two of you wriggled past the other people, Lay’s hand still on your arm so you wouldn’t get separated, “Kristen said we’re going to the after party, so we get to hang out more!! Yay!!” You bobbed your head with excitement. Lay looked like a fish as he exclaimed his satisfaction. “That’s great, Y/N! I will meet you there then. Go safely and I’ll see you soon.”

When you spotted Kristen, you took Lay’s hands and squeezed them between yours, the joy written all over your face. You didn’t think today could be topped; you felt really lucky. “You too, Lay. Text me and I’ll come find you this time!” He nodded and you parted with full hearts, vibrating with anticipation for your reunion. You ambled over to Kristen, who raised an eyebrow when you appeared at her side. “Who was that good-looking man you were talking to, Y/N? He seemed very fond of you.” “Ah! He’s a Chinese musician who’s in a Kpop group. He’s a Valentino brand ambassador, too, actually! He’s really sweet. He asked me to practice English with him since he’s going to be at the party as well.” You covered your mouth to downplay your smile, but Kristen saw everything. She chuckled softly, patting you on the shoulder. “Well, regardless of all of that he is, he was clearly taken with you. Behave yourself… but don’t forget to take advantage of the moment. Who knows… you might be able to continue helping with his English after today.” Kristen winked at you and your face bloomed red as a nervous chuckle escaped. Shaking your head, you nodded to her to lead the way to the car. Your brain was struggling to absorb what she’d just said, so you’d have to take the car ride over to cool down before you got to see your new companion again. And so the magic continued…

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{{I hope you liked this scenario; please leave a comment or reblog if you did! Watching interviews with Lay for research and he is just so humble and precious; it made me so happy to do a fic with him. Don’t forget to support his solo stuff as well as his work with EXO because he’s doubly-amazing and so hardworking! Happy 29th birthday you beautiful soul—I’m wishing that your dream to be on stage at the Grammy’s for your music comes true! Saranghae <3 <3 EXOXO}}

#lay x reader #exo lay #zhang yixing #happy lay day #exo fanfic #exo imagines #I was imagining Valentino SS19 #but honestly you can sub in whatever you want lol paint your fantasy!#lay zhang #my writing #user: cultureaddictconfessions #reporting for romance #yixing x reader

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fullmetalscullyy · 3 years

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the way it was - chapter 33

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

read on ao3

1914

i hear babies cry, i watch them grow

they'll learn much more than i'll never know

and i think to myself

what a wonderful world

There was nothing Roy wanted more than to collapse into his soft, warm bed, with his wife in his arms, and sleep his troubles away. His footsteps were heavy as he climbed the steps, his fatigued muscles quivering as if he was climbing up a mountain, rather than a staircase. He couldn’t wait to shut off his mind and stop thinking about the military and his grand plans and contingency plans for a couple of hours. It would be bliss.

It was his nightly ritual to stop outside Mia’s bedroom door and take a peek inside. The massive hulking bear she’d received for her birthday startled him, just like it did every time he poked his head into the room at night. Mia was sound asleep, cuddled into Mr. Brown the Bear. Her face was half hidden in his worn fur as Roy watched on, waiting to confirm that her chest was rising and falling with her breath. Once satisfied she was breathing normally he closed the door behind him.

He was silent stepping into his own bedroom. The creaking hinge did not betray him and Roy moved smoothly as he crept inside. Roy took quiet and careful steps into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Adrenaline on high, he let out a breath of relief after his successful voyage past the two sleeping forms.

Maes was a little terror. He slept for most of the day and woke up to fuss through the night. He gurgled for food but hardly took any when Riza offered. Having a clingy baby was wearing on them both. Whenever Riza got up through the night, Roy did too. They both woke to Maes’ single anguished cry at the same time, Riza up and out the bed before him to see what their son needed. The boy was completely nocturnal and was slowly turning his mother that way too. They’d quickly learned that she had to sleep when he did in order for Riza to get some kind of rest, but even then, Maes slept an hour and was up, slept three then woke for another feed. It was exhausting.

Roy had suggested the idea of moving Maes onto bottled milk so he could at least help out a little. That hadn’t gone down well at first. Riza was adamant and insisted they didn’t need it yet. However, she was wearing thin. Getting no restful sleep and shouldering all of the responsibility of Maes on her shoulders was getting to her. It was clear as day. Roy felt guilty. It had only been a week or so after Mia was born that he returned from Ishval. In the beginning, Riza was probably used to being the only one who looked after their new-born. But he was here now, and wanted to extend his help. Pushing too much would cause an argument, however, and that would just pile on more stress for Riza. Roy didn’t want that. He was struggling, seeing symptoms of postnatal depression settling in, but unable to help or ease her pain.

Stepping out into the bedroom, Roy noticed Riza was turned towards him. Her hair had been tied up in a bun to keep it out of the way, but now stuck out all over the place as it rubbed over her pillow in her sleep. Roy wondered if her stress throughout the day had anything to do with that too. Dark circles were present underneath her eyes, one hidden from view because it was buried into her pillow. She looked exhausted even when she was asleep.

Sliding in beside her, Roy stared down at his wife. A strand of hair had fallen against her cheek. Noticing how greasy it looked, Roy pushed it gently aside and vowed that tomorrow he would pry Maes from her as soon as he could, leaving her free to go and have a long, relaxing bath. It was his day off so he was going to bond with his son. A smile spread across his face. Roy couldn’t wait.

Peeking over Riza’s shoulder, Roy checked on Maes. He was sound asleep as he lay on his back. One arm was up by his head, his tiny fingers clenched into a tight fist. His little legs kicked out in his swaddle and he let out a small noise. Roy froze.

Don’t you dare wake up, kid, he warned inside his head. Holding his breath, Roy waited, but Maes settled and was quiet.

His whole body sagged in relief.

But it was short lived. Roy closed his eyes, feeling his exhaustion already carrying him off to sleep, when a sharp cry sounded from the crib.

Riza’s eyes popped open without hesitation and she rolled away from Roy immediately.

“I’ve got it –”

She didn’t even hear Roy speak. Riza continued moving forward to pick up Maes. Her shoulders were drooping, her speech slurred with sleep as she cooed at him gently, practically begging him to calm himself and sleep.

“Riza –”

She started to walk out the room to Maes’ nursery, either oblivious to him or just too tired to focus on anything else.

Stepping in her path was the only thing Roy could think of to get her to listen and notice him. Riza jumped in fright right before she walked into him. Slowly, Roy placed two hands on her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze to try and bring her back to him.

“I’ll take Maes,” he offered quietly.

“But –”

“Riza, please. Let me see to him. You can go back to sleep.”

“If he’s hungry –”

“I will come back and get you I promise,” Roy vowed, soothing her. “But you’re tired. I can go and find out what he needs.”

Maes was handed off to him as Riza trudged back to bed still looking half asleep. Roy chuckled as she flopped down, cuddling back into her pillow.

“Looks like it's you and me tonight, Maes,” Roy whispered. He placed a kiss upon his son’s forehead as he slipped out the room. The creaking hinge was back and surprised Maes with the sudden noise. Roy felt him jump in his arms.

“Sorry, buddy,” Roy whispered while Maes let out a disgruntled sound.

Stepping into the nursery he could easily make his way around Mia’s old bed without kicking it. They’d stored it there because the nursery was large enough to have a single bed in it as well as everything they needed to care for Maes. Since it had been Mia’s old one, the springs were broken after she’d jumped on it too many times, but it was still a bed. It was still warm and comfortable.

Moonlight bathed the nursery in a silver glow and Roy was half tempted to leave the light off and enjoy the atmosphere, but he needed to see what he was doing. Especially if he was changing Maes. One time he’d forgotten to arrange his nappy properly – “frills on the outside!” Riza always reminded him – and he urinated over Roy, leaking through his nappy. Riza found this hilarious but Roy didn’t mind too much. It was the most he’d heard her laugh since Maes was born.

“You’ve been giving Mummy a bit of a hard time,” Roy cooed, brushing Maes cheek with his finger. “But we still love you very much, Maes. So we’re going to have to work on that a little bit. I need to be better too,” he added, “Mummy always said I slept like a log and not much could wake me through the night but I want to be awake for you.”

Maes was laid down on the changing table. He yawned and blinked his dark eyes awake, staring up at his father. Roy placed both hands on either side of his son, leaning over him so he could marvel at every movement. His hair had looked black when he was first born but it was taking on a lighter tone as the weeks progressed. It was starting to look brown and Roy hoped it would continue on that trend or turn blonde. It almost matched the colour of his eyes. They were a deep chocolate shade, taking more after his mother than him. Roy grinned down at him.

Maes blinked once before his head cocked to the side. As time dragged on, Maes’ face scrunched up in discomfort.

“Okay, Maes. Let’s see if you need changed.”

He did. Triumphantly, Roy changed his son and eased him into his chest once it was over. Patting his back gently, Roy bounced Maes from side to side and prayed that would calm him enough to get him back to sleep.

Maes did fall asleep. He was sound in Roy’s arms, his tiny head resting against Roy’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Roy celebrated with a quiet laugh.

Pausing at the door, Roy had a thought. He almost returned to his own bedroom when he spied the bed out the corner of his eye again. It would be perfect for the thought that just occurred to him.

Grinning, Roy walked down the stairs to their darkened living room to ease Maes in his portable sleep basket. Having it meant they could transport Maes around the house easily and keep him in the same room as them while he slept. Roy carried it back up to the nursery and placed it by the side of the old bed.

The sheets smelled slightly musty after not being stirred for a long time. Roy wrinkled his nose as he climbed in and made a mental note to change and wash them in the morning.

This way, if Maes woke up again, it would let Riza sleep in peace.

Roy fell asleep with a smile on his face, proud of his idea. He was just so clever.

* * *

Dawn light filtered into the room, stirring Roy awake. He’d forgotten to close the curtains during the night, but that was okay. It was still the most rested he’d felt in a long time.

As he settled back into the pillows, opting to try falling back asleep, he heard the door open slowly. Riza peeked inside, her hair piled back up on top of her head, but much neater this time. Her eyes were wide as she searched for them both, expression softening when she and Roy made eye contact.

“Morning,” he whispered, sleep clouding his voice. Clearing his throat, Roy’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Good morning.”

Her voice was bright and cheery. It made him crack his eyes open again to observe her. He hadn’t heard her talk like that in a long time. Getting more sleep last night had been good for her.

The door closed behind Riza quietly and she leaned against the wall beside it to watch Roy wake up. “Did you steal our child away from me?” She was joking, a smile spreading across her face as she crossed her arms, waiting on his answer.

“I did,” Roy admitted, “because you need more sleep.”

“So do you,” she countered lightly. “You’ve been up the same amount as me.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been doing most of the work,” Roy yawned quietly, careful of waking Maes. He’d slept for – Roy craned his neck up to check the clock on the wall – six hours.

“Did he get up again?” Her arms uncrossed as she pushed off the wall and walked towards Maes’ sleep basket.

“No. Six hours,” Roy announced with a chuckle. “That’s some kind of record for him.” Another yawn left Roy as he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

“I’m not, but I can’t help but feel proud of him,” he grinned sleepily.

Riza gazed down at Maes, smiling. When she was looking at him, not much could tear her attention away. Roy could sympathise. Often, when she did stare, Roy would watch her instead. He noted the way her face softened completely with her love. The muscles of her face relaxed and a sigh of content passed over her lips.

The sleepless nights and the fatigue were worth it. It always would be for their children.

“I could stare at him forever,” she murmured quietly, running her fingers gently through Maes hair. It was so long but wispy, holding no real substance to it. Most of the time it stood on end from static, despite their best efforts to smooth it down for the kid. “This was a good idea, though,” Riza nodded towards the bed. For a brief second she wobbled on her legs, catching herself on the edge of the sleep basket.

Roy’s hand extended towards her, palm up, with a silent offering. Riza took it, expecting him to help her stand, but Roy tugged her over to him instead as she laughed quietly. Riza fell into his lap. Her legs hooked over the side of his so her cheek was in front of him. He couldn’t resist placing a kiss upon it.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still tired,” Riza admitted, resting her temple against his forehead gently as they both looked down at Maes. “But, I do feel more rested than I have in weeks.”

“You can go back to bed if you like?”

Her head shook negative. “He’ll want to be fed and Mia –”

“I can keep an eye on them,” Roy interrupted softly. “Go back to bed.”

“I won’t be able to sleep,” she sighed.

“Try it,” he offered casually.

Her head lifted, shooting him a sideways glance. “Is this your plan to get me to rest more?”

“You deserve it,” Roy countered. “You carried Maes for nine months and birthed him. I think it’s time I stepped up to the plate.”

Riza chuckled, patting his cheek. However, her hand lingered, turning his head so they were directly facing one another.

“First you steal my son away from me, and now you’re pushing me away from seeing him?” Her smile was wide, eyes twinkling with amusement and mischief. Oh, how he had missed that look on her. So much.

“Never.” His answer was absolute before he pressed a firm kiss to her lips, looping his arms around her hips to give them a tight squeeze. “I just want you to take care of yourself too,” he reasoned.

“I am,” she assured.

Roy’s eyebrows almost lifted to his hairline, making her huff in mock annoyance.

“It’s not been that bad,” she replied, but grimaced at her poor lie.

“It has been,” Roy corrected.

“Yeah, it has,” she replied glumly. It held a lot more sadness than Roy was expecting, causing concern to flourish slowly inside his heart.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…” A deep sigh left Riza, her chin dipping as her temple rested back against his forehead once more.

“What?” He squeezed her hips, prompting her to continue.

“I didn’t expect it to be so hard. Mia wasn’t this bad and…” A deep sigh left her. “I guess I feel guilty for thinking about taking a break. They’re my kids and I don’t want to need a break from them.”

“I know.”

“I need sleep. I know I do. But…”

“How about you feed Maes,” Roy offered hesitantly, his brain whirring to try and find a compromise she’d agree to, “while I wake Mia up and get her ready. She’s going to my mother’s today so it will just be the three of us. I can do some bonding with Maes while you go for a nap?”

A tired smile was thrown his way and Roy counted that as a success.

“Thank you,” she breathed. Her eyes closed with relief.

“Anything for you. You know that,” he whispered against her temple, kissing her there. “And anything for them.”

Glancing down, the two parents watched Maes begin to stir.

“He’s so tiny.”

“I know, I can’t believe it,” Riza giggled. “Hard to think Mia was this size too once.”

“That felt like just last year, never mind six years ago.”

Riza nodded, sliding off his lap. She crouched to pick up Maes.

In that moment, Roy had never seen a more endearing sight. Riza pressed her lips to Maes’ forehead. She held him close against her chest, rocking him from side to side.

“What?”

He’d been caught staring, but Roy just grinned. “I’m just thinking about how beautiful you look.”

Riza snorted gently. “I’m a mess.”

“You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

A pleased smile tugged at her lips but Riza fought it. However, it did spread, and she let out a light laugh as she shook her head fondly at him. “You’re biased.”

“Me? Never,” he exclaimed, rising from the bed. Roy’s hand found his son’s head and he pressed a kiss to it. “I’ll hop in the shower then see if Mia is awake.”

“Take your time,” Riza replied distractedly, her full attention back on Maes.

He grinned as he left the room, catching the serenity and love filling her expression as she rocked Maes.

“Morning Daddy,” Mia greeted sleepily.

“Morning, Mia Bear.” Roy perched on the edge of her bed, stooping to press a kiss to her forehead. It made her giggle and squirm away from him. “How do you feel today?”

“A little sleepy but I’m excited!” Her face lit up, her mouth forming a wide smile.

“Yeah? And why is that?” Roy folded down the sheet, giving her a chance to slip out from underneath.

“I get to go and see Grandma today!”

“She’s as excited about it as you are.”

“Really?” Mia latched onto Roy’s hand as they walked towards her wardrobe. It was only five steps or so but she still clung to him.

“She is,” he confirmed. “It’s been a little while since you’ve both gone on a day out together.”

“Yeah… It has.”

Roy was immediately on alert. He picked out the hint of sadness in Mia’s voice and the way she trailed off. He crouched, turning Mia to face him. His eyes narrowed playfully, but his stomach twisted. He’d caught the forlorn look on her face before it turned into a giggle.

“What?” At least her sadness had disappeared, but Roy hadn’t wanted to see it in the first place. He wondered if his suddenly formed hypothesis was correct…

“What was that long face for?” He reached forward and ‘caught’ her nose in between his thumb and forefinger, pretending to wiggle it gently before letting go.

“What long face?” Her reply was so innocent that Roy wondered if he’d imagined it for a second, but there had definitely been something there.

“You sounded and looked sad for a second.”

Mia’s smile fell.

“Is everything all right?”

Mia’s chin tucked into her chest slowly as she looked down at the floor.

“What’s wrong?” Roy prompted her gently as he made himself more comfortable in his crouch. He waited patiently for her answer, giving her all the time she needed.

“It’s nothing. But it has been a little while since we’ve done something cool and fun together.” Her admission was so quiet as she toed at the carpet nervously beneath them.

Mia was feeling left out. The realisation hit Roy like a truck, and he could see why she would feel that way. Maes took all of their attention recently and while they desperately tried to find a balance, it hadn’t been enough. They hadn’t been good enough for her.

His arms opened and Mia stepped into them eagerly. Her small hands clutched at his t-shirt, hanging onto it.

“Mummy and I love you so much, Mia Bear,” Roy promised, giving her a squeeze. “Believe me, we really do. And we’re so sorry you’ve been feeling left out.”

“It’s okay, Daddy.”

She takes after Riza far too much.

“No,” Roy shook his head as he pulled away from her, “it’s not. It’s made you sad and that’s not okay. Maes is only little so he needs a lot more attention from us, okay? He’s a fussy baby,” Roy added with a tired smile, “and keeps us up all night.”

“He does?” Mia’s eyes widened in surprise.

“He does. So we’ve been really tired, but that’s not an excuse. We didn’t mean to make you feel left out.”

“I haven’t heard him at night.”

“Good,” Roy commented, ruffling her fringe. “He doesn’t need to keep you up too.”

Face screwing up in irritation, Mia reached up with two hands to smooth out her fringe while Roy just laughed at her reaction.

“It might take a little while for everything to go back to the way it was before Maes was born, but it will, I promise. He’ll get older and things will get easier. You’ve been a very big girl throughout it all though.” She had. This was the first time he was hearing of any jealousy or her feeling left out compared to her sibling. “And we’re so proud of you. If you feel that way again, can you please tell me or Mummy?”

“I will,” Mia nodded confidently. Her arms were thrown around his neck tightly, almost knocking him over with the force of it. “Thank you, Dad.”

“Any time, Mia Bear. And thank you for being so understanding.”

“Anything for my baby brother,” she grinned happily.

She skipped up to her wardrobe doors, pulling them open wide while Roy rose from his crouch. He felt so proud of how understanding and caring she was, however, they needed to do better by her too.

He’d call his mother while Mia was eating breakfast and ask Chris to spoil his little girl today. Not that that wouldn’t happen already, though, but he’d ask Chris to take her to the toy shop to buy whatever she wanted on him.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #the way it was #emma writes

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