The Warmest Blue (BelarusxReader) | 2 Natalya was waiting for you when you got home; her silvery hair flowed loose at her waist, the hem of her favourite dark blue dress hanging perfectly at her knees as she greeted you in her usual reserved way, her delicate features so still they could have been of ice.
You were sure to close the door behind you and check that the windows were all covered before pressing your lips to Natalya’s forehead, taking a moment to preserve the feel of her soft skin against yours and her pulse in harmony with your own. As you pulled away, feeling both relieved and hellishly guilty, Natalya regarded you quizzically. Bemusedly, she asked, “What was that for? Stressful meeting with Ivan?”
“Meeting?” you responded in confusion; too late, you remembered the excuse you had managed to convince Natalya not to accompany you as your manager today with. “Oh, with Ivan. Yeah, it’s been a long day,
An Heir | Chapter 9 Pain and confusion exploded in your chest, searing through bone and flesh as you stared at the hooded figure, eyes wide under the shadows cast by draping cloth. Blood roared in your ears, yet you felt as if you had been dragged away from the real world, all sounds oddly muted and shuffling as echoes ricocheted in your skull.
Amelia stood there as if made of stone, mouth curled in a sort of half-apologetic, half-determined expression, shadowed by the hooded cloak she wore. She didn’t move, barely breathing as you sighed, stuck the candle in a holder some absentminded servant had left on the table, and crossed a few steps to her side. There was no protest as you took her elbow firmly and pulled her towards the light of the candle.
Only when the wavering light of the candle flame reached her eyes did you notice the glassiness in Amelia’s eyes, light glimmering off the surface of the tears welling over her
The Warmest Blue (BelarusxReader) | 1 The slap of paper on wood was audible as you stared at what was printed there on the glossy surface: you, laughing with Natalya, hands clasped and fingers entwined, bodies far closer than the boundary of platonic relations allowed. The man in black before you shuffled the sheets outward and more images appeared: the two of you sitting in the small café you had thought was so secret, bodies curled into one another’s like cats; a closer shot of your heads, your lips millimetres from Natalya’s, palm resting on the curve of her cheek.
The final picture, slapped down almost victoriously by the government official, seared itself into your mind; you remembered the event as if it had been yesterday, although you hadn’t know that photographic evidence existed to document it. Your arms were looped around Natalya’s neck, fingers threaded through her fine platinum hair; her lips had been so warm and sweet again
Destruction So DivineThere was once a kingdom bordered by mist and mountains, lush with forests and crystalline rivers that twined over the land like trails of tears dripping down porcelain cheeks. This kingdom was ruled by a gracious king and queen, but when malicious forces too powerful for mortal rulers to counter threatened the realm, the true guardians of the kingdom came forth.
Sister fairies, each with their own unique powers and sacred connection to the soul of the universe itself, protected the kingdom. Their presence could be felt throughout the realm; it was evident in the vibrancy of the flowers and the sweet iciness of the water that flowed as lifeblood through the earth. The people adored the seven fairies who walked among them, each exuding a tangible aura of power that lifted their mortal hearts and sang to their souls. These seven sisters were each linked to the natural world, comprising together the purest form of harmony between magic and mortal life: the rainbow.
The youngest of these s
An Heir | Chapter 8 The possibilities of how your daughters would react whirled in your head incessantly, striking against the inside of your skull like mallets pounding out fear from a mine of terror. Amelia would be angry, you knew it; fury would rise from her and she’d storm away before you could console her at all. She’d always clung to her independence, the stubborn child even as the world shaped her to fit the likings of men. Madeline’s response was harder for you to predict; you could see your younger daughter being silently deflated by the news, the invisible wings that held her poetic, sweet soul so high above the earth abruptly being clipped…yet you could also see that sadness, thick enough to drown in, curdling into sullen anger that burned just as fierce and hot as Amelia’s, if not as boldly.
Amelia was her father’s daughter in all rights; that brilliant, fearless fire shone out from their hearts and gave their
Stormy on the Rocks (NetherlandsxReader) [GIFT] The bar was calmly mundane, all clinking glasses and the soft rush of chatter, but its back room was another world. Through that door in the corner, hidden by carefully cast shadow and the corner of the bar, lay a separate realm of tinted lights and soaring music that seemed too loud to be hidden just by the door. It was in this oddly otherworldly world that you met Abel Mogens for the first time—as well as where you would leave him for the last time.
You had found out about the “secret room” from a friend, who had heard about it from someone she met at one of Amsterdam’s many coffee shops. Given the chain the information had passed through, you had been a bit skeptical of your friend’s enthusiastic encouragement to check it out, but here you were… The bartender came to a pause before you, his long-fingered hands tapping over the inventory on his counter as if over piano k
The Words UnspokenHe worked in silence, just as he always had. Calyx didn’t mind; he found a friend in the quiet solitude that wrapped gentle arms around him and started a content thrum in his veins.
In and out, went the needle, steady and swift. The thin silver was pleasantly cool between his fingers as it stitched with nearly invisible thread through impossibly delicate, papery material. However arcane and ominous his work may have seemed to others, Calyx was perfectly happy with his occupation. It provided him peace, and his soul rested content among his patients. No one seemed to understand…except him.
Even now, his name rested light and familiar on Calyx’s tongue. Sarah had been there by his side when it happened, she’d said. Just another one of his little incidents, nothing to worry about--except this time, it hadn’t just been another incident. Calyx had been back at the shop, of course, finishing just one more patient before retiring for the day. And now, Calyx
An Heir | Chapter 7 You went to see Arthur immediately after being forced to down a meal of porridge the following morning; the thick creaminess had no flavour to you and you swallowed it quickly, anxious to see how Arthur had fared the night. Your steps only slowed a few steps away from his door, sudden dread clinging to your heels and pulling them back down to the ground like stale treacle.
Your fingers intertwined, feeling around the papery thin scabs at their bases where Arthur’s rings had cut through; his desperate, rasping voice echoed in your head again and you felt the familiar rush in your chest that had bade you to rise and come to Arthur’s chambers.
“I love my king,” you told yourself, words quietly uttered but heavy in your mouth. With that, you pushed the doors open and entered, blinking rapidly to adjust your eyes to the sudden dimness that cloaked the room.
Arthur had been
Bitterblue Ramsey had refused the gifts, all of them. He’d turned down the money and turned deaf ears to all offers of promotion…he’d even shut the door in the face of his patron. Yet it had all been in vain.
Natalya Ardeyev was dead and rotting in a grave far deeper than six feet, and Dr. Ramsey Atkins had put her there. The operation had been risky by nature (and at best); any sane doctor would have burnt their name from the books at the mere suggestion—but with the Brothers always watching and waiting, even that choice had been taken away. They had come to his home to deliver the order; the rapid knocks on his door had nearly sent Ramsey into the throes of cardiac arrest. To the terrified paranoia of his ears, the sound had possessed far too much similarity to a round of staccato gunfire. As soon as the unmarked black envelope had emerged from the depths of the masked messenger’s coat, Ramsey had resigned himself to