#‘Sometimes I just stare down at the details—the leaves bursting from a tree in full bloom; the ring around its swirling; entwined roots.’

[little-peril-stories]

Hiya Kate!

Instead of writing, I had the absolute need to binge Prince of Thieves, an excellent use of time, and to draw a certain tree.

(B&W)

(Color)

Also thank you for reading my whumptober story! Your comments give me much joy 😄

- Paisley

AAHHHHHHH

AHHHHHHHHHHHH

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

PAISLEY OH MY GOD

^^^ the screams I couldn't do earlier because I first saw this while I was at work^^^

This...is...I...I....

🥰��🥹I'm speechless!!! 🥹😭🥰

Oh my gosh!!!!! It's GORGEOUS!!!! You are so talented and I'm so absolutely honoured that you took some time to draw the IA tattoo!! I'm a little bit dead over it, in fact!!! ALL THE EXCLAMATION MARKS!!!

And your Whumptober story is awesome! Sam is so sweet and Thomas is so mysterious and intriguing and awesome. I can't wait to see where it's going! :D

My heart is so full, seriously. I told my husband once my secretest little writing dream was to create something that inspired fanart (yeah, specifically fanart lol) one day, and you've made my wish come true. You really have no idea how much that means.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. 💕💕 You're amazing

[karamfilmare]

White Gold and Maple

Kazuha x reader

Dedicated to my lovely mutual for her birthday @ahtsuwu -- sorry it came so late. You deserve this!

Description: Kazuha is behaving oddly, and for what reason?

Content: fluff, humor (?), surprise birthday, Kazuha being just the best bean. Modern AU (I think), light swearing(?), mentions of a spouse passing away (don't worry it's not too sad),

A/N: Sorry if this is shorter than my usual pieces and not as detailed. I wanted to get a short piece out, I hope it's fine. Also, not edited or proofread, sooo oops.

Stirring from your sleep, you stuck a hand out to find your boyfriend and sneak in close--only to find the spot was unoccupied and cool. Lifting your head, you frowned at the absence.

"Kazuha?"

You swung your legs off the mattress and walked around, confused by the silence in your home. Until you heard some light humming.

Finding your way into the kitchen, the smell of warm maple wafted around you. You found Kazuha standing by the stove, his hair messily put up in a loose bun, as he cooked what appeared to be some breakfast. He did not appear to notice your presence yet, so you quietly walked up behind him and slipped your arms around his waist and leaned against him.

"Oh, I didn't know you were awake. I wish you'd sleep in a bit more, I was going to wake you when I was ready."

"But I missed you," you murmured, slowly breathing out a sigh of content into his back. "I'm glad to see you."

"Ok, go sit down, I'll bring the food over in a bit."

Sitting down at the stool at the counter, you propped your head up on your hands, watching him move about. He turned around, the rich scent of maple and pancakes filling the air. Setting down your portion, he continued to watch you eat, asking if he did a good job with them, before laughing at your enthusiastic nodding, since your cheeks were full of sweet fluff. Your morning had gone along well, with not too much trouble, before he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"With deep regret, I must leave to attend to some things, but it shouldn't be long, alright?"

"Already? Ok, good luck."

And soon enough, he was out the door, leaving you to clean up after the couple of dishes left from breakfast.

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

Bzzzzt Bzzzzt

Reluctant to get off the couch, you ambled to your phone on the nightstand of your room, seeing a text from Beidou.

"Call me."

"Really?" you wondered out loud, knowing Beidou wasn't really one for conversations in the morning. Shrugging, you

"Hey."

"Yo. Listen, can you swing by where I'm at? I'm bored and I need company. Ningguang is shutting me down again, saying she's busy or some shit, ya know, the usual."

"Uh, sure, that's fine. Just send me your location, I'll come by."

"Great! I'll text you the location. Don't be late."

Don't be late? Seriously? From Beidou? "Fine, 'captain', I won't hold your important self up."

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

"So, I didn't think you'd be a mall person, Beidou."

"Nah, I just felt like it today, though. So, are you doing anything for your birthday?"

"My wha--"

Oh.

"Crazy that you remembered. But no, nothing planned."

The dark-haired woman quirked an eyebrow up, letting out a small sound. "Well, alright. This'll be my gift to you then. Let's go."

She dragged you along the mall, going from shop to shop, usually checking out food, candies, booze, and some clothes. After indulging in some boba tea and candies, you passed by a quaint little shop that caught your eye.

"Wanna go in? Come on, you seem interested." Beidou encouraged you to enter the shop, and you both quietly walked along the little stands. Earrings adorned a turning stand, necklaces and colorful rings were in glass cases, engraved paperweights, and other such pieces filled the room. You noted that these pieces didn't have the cold, pristine look of big designer jewelry stores.

"Huh, they look handmade, don't they?"

"Oh yes, every piece you see here is handcrafted by my family," a new voice startled you, an older woman with strands of grey enhancing her light brown hair. "Sorry for sneaking up. You've a keen eye."

"They're lovely." Indeed they were, the meticulous attention to detail. The rings looked like they were braided in gold, the gemstones inlaid upon them glittered under the light. Chains were linked carefully, the pendants all unique in some fashion. These pieces had character, something you would not mind having every day on your person.

Something caught your eye--a white gold ring with your birthstones, all laid along a pattern around. Not an engagement ring by any means, but something you visualized adorning your finger on a daily basis.

No, I might come back later and purchase it sometime. If it's not there, it wasn't meant to be.

"Ah, this one? My son made it to commemorate his late wife for her birthday, which is today. She passed several years back, but he chose to never forget her. This year, he decided he would create this ring that was similar to the one he made for her on an anniversary of theirs." The woman's eyes turned down slightly, her smile falling a bit. "But don't worry, he made this piece so that someone may show their love to their partner once again. Would you like to try it on?"

You hesitated, but Beidou coaxed you to try it on, before switching her attention to her phone. The woman slipped the ring onto your ring finger, finding that it fit you perfectly.

A grin appeared on her face. "It suits you, as if it were made for you."

Staring at it for a moment, you felt the slight longing for it, not just because of its appearance, but for the story that came along with it. You shook your head before slipping it off. "I might come back sometime later and see if it's here. I don't have any way to pay for this at the moment, I apologize. But it is beautiful."

"No worries. It might find itself back to you in some manner."

Perhaps, but unlikely. Nodding your head, you trudged along out of the store, expecting Beidou to be behind you, only to find her still inside the store, talking to the owner of the shop. Several minutes later, she hurried out, a faint smile lingering on her lips.

"Don't ask."

"I-- alright."

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

You parted ways with Beidou shortly after, and just as you leave the mall, you receive a text from Yoimiya.

"Hey, I can't make it on time to pick something up, could you go to this location for me, please? I'll make it up to you, PROMISE!! <3"

Shrugging your shoulders, you replied asking for the address, to which she replied with a pinpoint of the location. You texted Kazuha where you were about to go, just in case he made it home before you.

Except, the location wasn't a building. It was a large tent on the top of a hill, away from town. You found a slip of paper and picked it up, wondering whether the person was inside.

What the hell is Yoimiya picking up over here? Is she doing illegal business? What is going on here?

Just before you began to spiral in your thoughts, the tent opened up, revealing a smiling Kazuha. "Well, I'm glad you could make it. Come on, you're just in time."

"Just in time for--"

He pulled you close to him, guiding you to the other side of the tent next to the tree. Motioning for you to sit down, he settled himself right next to you. "Have you read the paper?"

Shaking your head, you pulled the slip of paper you found, finding words on the page in Kazuha's pretty handwriting.

The universe was blessed this day

When the heavens opened up

and you descended on earth

To touch my life.

The stars remain in your eyes,

And I wish on every single one,

That I can be called

Yours.

"Kazuha..." you breathed out, your mouth not able to form the words, as your gaze turned to the beautiful man before you.

"Look up."

At his urging, you turned your face up to the night sky. Several beats passed, before a streak of light shot up, before breaking into a large burst of colors. Several more shot up, taking your breath away. The show of sparkles

"Is that--"

"I had a bit of help to set up this moment. I hope you liked it."

Silence settled in, realizing that he was so excited about your birthday all this time. So the sudden texts from Beidou and Yoimiya weren't just random, they were planned.

"Oh, one more thing." Kazuha searched a pocket and pulled out a small box, bringing your hand close. "I heard from Beidou that this caught your eye, and I couldn't let it slip. So..." The ring you found earlier appeared once again before you, settling onto your ring finger once more. "I got it as a promise for us."

The emotions that built up within you finally spilled, tears streaming down slightly. "Kazuha, I swear...I'm--I'm in bliss right now, just being here with you. I just..." You placed your hands on his face and pulled him in for a soft kiss, which was immediately reciprocated.

The tenderness of the moment cemented a new shift in the relationship, one marked with devotion, rich and sweet, like maple. A birthday like this? You would remember for the rest of your life.

[gyuluster]

one last present | (f)

“Soobin gifts you something unusual, but oddly perfect.”

oneshot | established relationship! au | 1.7k words

s u m m a r y : soobin has one last birthday present to spoil you with, and you certainly did not expect it.

w a r n i n g s : literally just fluff, so much fluff, soobin is best boyfriend, a little nerd information about animal disease but nothing too grim, a little kiss at the end ):

a u t h o r ‘ s  n o t e : hello hi this sounds all over the place but idc because it’s @soobmint birthday and this is tailored very much to her liking anyway happy birthday chae i love u so much <3

back to masterlist

“I’M NOT ACCEPTING ANOTHER PRESENT FROM YOU.”

The said boy furrowed his brows, bottom lip jutting out slightly at your words. Despite the image being extremely adorable, you refused to submit.

Choi Soobin had spoiled you enough.

“But, ____,” he began, getting up from the sofa the both of you were cozily settled upon. A few of the opened presents fell on the carpeted floor from his lap, and, letting out a noise, he instantly dropped to his knees, picking up the objects.

“No buts!” you exclaimed, crossing your arms. “You’ve gifted me half the shopping mall! You can’t expect me to accept more!”

The pout was more prominent with every word of refusal. “Honey,” he murmured, and the endearment had your heart skipping a beat. He propped the fallen presents atop the coffee table before you, standing up straighter once again. “I like buying you gifts. I mean, It’s your birthday after all.”

Indeed it was so. Of course you knew, but your boyfriend made sure that you never forgot — the excitement which radiated from him these past few weeks almost became unbearable, knowing he was planning all these lavish outings and presents, but you could not help but go along with his wishful preparation. His pure, unadulterated joy at wanting to make your birthday as special as possible truly touched your heart.

“And plus, after this one, there are no more.” 

When you answered him with a raised brow, quite unconvinced, he raised his fist into the air, a little finger erecting. “Pinky promise.”

“Pinky promise, huh?” You could not help a small smile escaping. “That serious?”

Nodding, he hovered the finger closer to you. “This present will be your absolute favourite.”

Looping your own pinky with his, he helped you off the sofa, making sure you didn’t drop any of the gifts around you. Then, wrapping the rest of his fingers around your hand, he led you out of his living room.

Taking a long journey into the hallways, you both turned to the kitchen, a vast marble sensation of countertops and island bars, courtesy of his parents’ wealth. Catching sight of the wall-length, transparent doors, Soobin held out his free hand, careful to be quiet as he opened the doors into the nature beyond.

The Choi’s garden was another world entirely — perhaps bigger than his house, a fine collection of all the fruit trees, bushes and flowers, scattered upon the lush grass, freshly trimmed this morning. You closed the door after you stepped into the cool evening air, the sun on its way to descent below the horizon.

“Where is this present, Soobin?” you asked him, curious as to why he steered you outside. He only answered with a knowing smile, converse quiet against the grass, hand on yours unwavering.

Your confusion only grew as, swiping past the trail of gran old oaks and birches, you ended up upon the small pond right at the end of your boyfriend’s garden. It shimmered with the golden light of the dying sun, a few crickets resonating around its edges. The little reservoir was your favourite place inside his domain, a lilting peace always exuding from the calm waters, lapping against the slight bank. 

However, as your eyes wandered, there was a new addition, settled beside the pond. “What is this?” you wondered out loud, gazing over the small, wooden structure, slightly bigger than a sandcastle. Its detail was incredibly intricate, a tall arc carved out in the front, a moving creature fidgeting at the edge. The roof was slanted, like that of a miniature cabin, and your previous interest had only heightened, tugging on the sleeve of Soobin’s white shirt.

“Stay here,” he said, letting go of your hand for a moment. Carefully stepping along the edges of the pond, he kneeled next to the wooden construction, leaning in as his hands slid inside the open doorway. You crept a step closer, craning your head forward to catch a glimpse, but when you saw your boyfriend murmuring sweet nothings to the unknown inside, you stopped.

That was when he brought his hands out, now very much occupied. 

A gasp escaped you at what was revealed.

Two small ducklings snuggled in the folds of Soobin’s hand, making soft quacking noises as his finger stroked each of their heads softly. Your face morphed into one of infinite tenderness as a smile curled instantly upon his lips at the reaction.

Slowly, as not to disturb the animals, he walked over to you, eyes never leaving their faded yellow coats. Only when he stepped before you he looked up, sharing some of his elation within your gaze.

“My last present,” he declared. Hovering his full hands closer to you, he added, “Here.”

You did not dare answer him, holding your hands out as, ever so gently, Soobin dipped the ducklings into your care. Their webbed feet clung onto your palms as they curled against you, welcoming your warmth. Your nerves had to be thanked for that, rising with each caress of their feathers against your skin. 

Your eyes lifted to the boy before you.

He was not wrong at all — this really was your favourite present. “How…” you got out, but of course he knew, of course he knew that you had wanted these creatures for so long. 

It wasn’t exactly a secret that you wanted ducks — it was certainly a bizarre first pet to have, but you always found these types of birds adorable. Whenever you and Soobin would walk through the parks in your city, you would rush to the waterworks within nature, and stare at the families of ducks for hours on end. Sometimes, the poor boy had to haul you out of the forests, but he always found his heart turning in on itself whenever he stole a glimpse of your excited smile.

So when he ended up in the animal shelter one day, weeks before tonight, in search of these animals, he saw these two baby ducklings, and instantly made sure to whisk them away within his pond, hiding them and their little cabin from your curious footsteps. 

Until this day. When now, they nearly slept with the gentle stillness you kept them in.

He could see it in your eyes. You were already in love with them.

“What…” you gulped, thumbs caressing their tiny heads. “What did you name them?”

Soobin’s hand crept up to his neck, scratching awkwardly. “You better not laugh.”

You narrowed your brows. “Why?”

He pointed at the left duckling. “So this one is Aristotle,” he began, awaiting your teasing, “And this one—” pointing to the right, “—is called Plato.”

There was a long silence before you burst into soft laughter. 

“Hey!” he exclaimed, locking his hands behind his back. “I told you not to laugh.”

“I’m sorry, baby!” you gasped out, grinning. “I didn’t realise one semester of Greek Philosophy could change you this way.”

“Stop!” he whined, stepping closer as he observed the slumbering ducklings. “I don’t know, I just really liked the ring of it, okay?”

“Awww, don’t worry, Soobs,” you reassured him, nudging his leg with your foot. “I like the names.”

It was his turn to give you the unconvinced raise of his brows. “I’d bring out my pinkie, but my hands are a bit occupied.”

Satisfied, he nodded, watching you tend to your living gift with your fingers. “There’s something a little wrong with them, ____.”

Smile fading, you glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”

He crossed his arms. “The lady at the shelter mentioned some time of...preen malfunction?” 

You knew exactly he was inferring to. “Malfunctioning preen glands?” Your fingers brushed against the base of the ducklings’ tails, feeling an odd texture around their feathers. “I researched this while I was looking for ducks as pets. It means that their feathers don’t dry properly, which can be really dangerous for them.”

“Oh my God,” he muttered. “I should have looked into it further!” He groaned, swiping away his hair from his line of sight. “How am I going to take care of them properly?”

Your stare upon him seemed to calm him down. “Soobin, it’s okay.” Gingerly, you patted their backs. “I know how to treat this.”

“I’m sorry for putting this responsibility on you, honey,” he mumbled, taking one final step to you before planting his hands on your shoulders. “I wanted you to have some ducklings, but seeing these sick ones just...it did something within me.

“I felt like I had to get them somewhere safe, ____. And the only safe haven I could think of was you.”

Your eyes widened, his touch all the more prevalent. Soobin noticed, cocking his head. “What are you looking at me like that for?” 

His hands crept up, sliding from your neck to hold your face in his slender fingers. “Do you not realise that I associate you with all the good things in the world?”

You swallowed a lump in your throat, refusing to let the sting of tears win over you. “There’s a reason I presented you with the ducklings, honey. If you’re so good to me, then little Plato and Aristotle will forever be loved.”

Oh, God. How could you fight the waterworks after that?

Raising upwards, you closed your eyes as you captured Soobin’s lips, insides singing at how he welcomed the touch. His fingertips stroked your cheeks as he leaned further into the kiss, moving against your mouth like a lovestruck fool, yearning for you and everything you represented. 

As the sun fully descended, you opened up slightly for him, the boy clinging onto your bottom lip till a soft moan escaped you, causing him to lose nearly all of his senses. He might have gone further, may have teased his tongue along the swell of your mouth, but he held back. 

If it weren’t for the creatures nestled in your hands, he would have dared, but he pulled back, breathing a little panted as his thumb caressed the apple of your cheeks. 

“Happy Birthday, ____,” he whispered, eyes swirling with lifelong affection.

“I love you, Soobin,” you replied, lips curving upwards.

Then you looked down at the slumbering ducklings, smile growing.

And I love you two, too.

[instasiswetrust]

Cherry Lane Challenge Day 3 - Crow

A flutter of black, out of the corner of his left eye is what first catches his attention. His hand raises, signaling his party to stop in their tracks. There's some shuffling and a few annoyed huffs which he ignores in favor of taking careful steps towards what caught his eye in the first place.

All is still for a second and then- There. The dry sound of feathers brushing together.

Silently, he steps closer to the source of the sound. When he sees what it is, he relaxes minutely allowing himself another breath. It is but a crow, its left wing dragging over the dewy grass of the clearing. He sees no blood so he assumes it must be broken.

Another careful step takes him even closer to the scared bird, his fingers nearly brushing its feathers, so close-

"Steve, what's the hol- Is that a bird?"

Tommy and the rest of the hunting party burst into the clearing with too loud steps and raised voices, startling the bird into a frantic state once again. It squawks in its fear, broken wing fluttering pitifully as it tries to escape what it assumes to be a predator.

"I almost had it, Tommy!" He turns to his companion, features set into an angry scowl. He may only be seventeen but he was the Crown Prince and they should've listened to his orders! "Why did you break position?"

Instead of answering his question, Tommy walks past him as crouches right by the bird, poking it with a stick and laughing at its resulting squawk. "Can't believe you stopped a hunting party just to save a bird, Stevie. What are you? Snow White?"

Heat rises to the prince's cheeks and he smacks the stick out of Tommy's hands. "Leave it. It's already hurt enough without you making it worse."

Tommy quirks an eyebrow, teeth bared into a nasty smirk. He gives a mock bow that makes Steve's eyes narrow.

"As you wish, milord."

And then, making sure he's got Steve full attention, he gives the injured bird a sharp kick sending it smacking against a tree with a feeble squawk.

The bird struggles to upright itself, collapses, and tries again, before eventually just laying there. Unmoving if not for the minuscule shifts of its diaphragm. All Steve can do is watch, knowing full well that if he so much dares make a move to help it again, Tommy might outright try to crush it under the sole of his boot.

Under the raucous laughter of the soldiers, he follows the hunting party back to the deer trail they were following, the back of his neck red with poorly contained rage. All thoughts of injured crows and helpless birds are stored at the back of his brain where he no longer has to think about them again.

---

So that night, when he walks into his chambers half-drunk on too much ale and a hearty roast, the last thing he expects is to find a girl sitting on his desk chair. Her vermillion hair is cropped short and would help her pass for a man were it not for her curvaceous figure, so distinctly female even under the black robes she wears. On her head, a crooked hat sits adorned with what he thinks are feathers.

As he steps inside, she stands up and he notices her eyes appear yellow behind her spectacles.

"Who are you?" He tries to sound authoritative, like the prince he's supposed to be, but he's too drunk to manage anything more than slurred inquisitiveness.

"Don't you recognize me?" Her lips barely move as she speaks and yet her voice comes out as a shrill squawk, not too different from the frantic sounds of the crow in the forest. It makes him flinch, taking a step back. "Maybe this will help jog your memory."

Under his watchful gaze, he sees her shift into the same crow he saw that morning. His eyes follow the bird as it flies around the room once, before landing on the chair. A blink later, and the girl from before is sitting in the same spot.

No. Not a girl.

A witch.

Because of fucking course the crow had to be a witch. That was just his life.

"Look, I'm sorry for what Tommy did to you earlier today and I truly wished to help you but if I did-"

"But if you did, your companions might've killed me while you watched." She hums, inspecting her sharp nails with clear disinterest. "Those are but excuses and we both know it."

"They are not-!"

The witch clicks her tongue disapprovingly and he finds the words he meant to say dying on his tongue. Fear rises in him, and only then does he consider that the reason she's here and not with Tommy is that he's the one she's planning to hurt.

"It is an excuse, darling." She fixes him with a sharp glare. "You're Steve Harrington, Crown Prince of the kingdom of Hawkmond. They should respect you and yet your own foot soldiers treat you like you're below the sole of their feet."

A feeble protest rises in his throat but she only has but to look, before silence descends upon him again. The worst part? She is absolutely right.

"You're weak-willed. Spineless. A disaster in the making." She huffs, taking the few steps that separate them until they are standing almost nose to nose. "I shall not allow a person like that to ruin what this kingdom could become."

In her yellow eyes, he sees rage flash however briefly, and he wonders what sort of circumstances led a witch to care this much for the outcome of a whole kingdom. It is but a split-second judgment, yet it's all he manages.

For the next thing he knows, pain radiates from every single nerve ending in his body. He falls upon his knees, writhing in agony, and through his anguished screams, he swears he can hear the witch croon in a sticky-sweet voice.

Scion of swords and kings

A curse of feather and blood

Placed upon thee

For thine will is brittle as bone

This shape thou shall keep

Til’ the day thy soul’s to pass

Unless thy lesson is learned

And thee flies with thine own wings

By the next morning, every single person in the Capitol knows Crown Prince Steve Harrington has gone missing. None a single clue left behind to find him.

---

He finds out pretty quickly that the best way to find food in the forest is to follow the wolves.

It's been two months since the night he was cursed, and Steve's come to the conclusion that while sometimes annoying, being a bird wasn't as awful as he first assumed it would be. Flying was nice once he managed to get the hang of it, and messing with the occasional villager while he indulged in the instinctual desire to steal shiny things was something he hadn't expected to enjoy so much.

But he really could do without the feeding.

The first few days he had outright refused to take part of any rotten bit of meal he found, no matter how appetizing it might've seemed to his new instincts.

By day four he had to give in and eat, or he risked worse injuries.

It had been a distasteful ordeal up until he had found the wolf pack during his first full moon as a crow. Night had fallen, and as he made his way through the thick trunks on unsteady talons, he had heard the first howl. For a second, he had almost considered leaving. Retaining this half-human form was still something he struggled with and he wished to enjoy the little time he had before he once again had to return to his feathery prison.

But the call of the wolves ensnared him, and he had to find them.

Except none of them were normal wolves, as he found out once morning came.

From what he has observed in the last month, most members of the pack preferred to stick to their wolf forms as much as they could. Occasionally, one or two of them would venture into the closest town for certain necessities but that was about it.

It was weird.

It was also fascinating.

They didn't seem to mind his prolonged stay, in fact, it almost looked like they welcomed him among their midst without so much as a second thought. He didn't question it, just enjoyed it for the time being although he always made sure he only shifted into his halfling form where the wolves wouldn't find him.

At least, that had been the plan.

But now, staring into the ice-blue eyes of the blonde wolf he had started thinking as his wolf, he realizes that he overlooked one tiny but very important detail.

Wolves tended to have a keen sense of smell.

Well, shit.

Silence pervades the small nook between the trees he had taken as his hiding spot away from the pack, as he simply stares back at the wolf. Waiting for something, maybe a shift, a lunge. Anything.

Except a whole minute passes with nothing happening, and Steve is starting to feel foolish.

"So is this the part where you try and eat me? Or warn me to stay away from the pack?" He chances, hoping for a reaction.

The wolf cocks its head to the side, blue eyes looking almost mocking before there's a ripple and a human is crouching in its place. A very blond, very handsome, human with ice blue eyes. Who's also kind of naked.

Huh.

"The fact that you think nobody knew what you were as soon as you hopped into the clearing that night is telling." At Steve's confused look, the wolf (the man?) chuckles. Guess he was right about the mocking part. "You reek of magic, little bird. Magic and human flesh."

"Well, how was I supposed to know?" He snaps, the small feathers that cover his neck fluffing up.

"Common sense?" There's a smirk this time, along with a flash of fangs. "Did your mother not teach you about magical signatures once you came out of the egg?"

"I- ah" He falters, unsure if he should explain that he wasn't born like this but rather turned into this. He runs a talon through the feathers that have replaced his hair before sighing. "I'm a human, actually. Just got cursed to look like this."

The man-wolf hums, giving him an appraising look. "That explains a few things."

Steve scoffs, ready to stand up and leave this guy alone to go bother somebody else when suddenly he feels a heavyweight drop onto his lap. When he looks down, he's met with a pair of ice-blue eyes looking back at him.

He wonders, not for the first time, why he picked this particular wolf to stick close to out of all the others.

"Does the little birdy have a name?" That smirk is back again and it almost makes him blush. Makes him glad that his whole skin is now covered in black fluffy feathers.

"If I tell you, will you stop calling me that?"

"Nope. But I might give you my name too."

It sounds like a fair deal at least. And that way he could stop calling him man-wolf in his head.

"Steve."

"Steve. Hm. Not quite what I expected." It's been so long since the last time someone said his name, it feels weird hearing it now from someone that is not himself. "Mine's Billy, by the way."

"And what did you expect, Billy?" The name feels foreign on his tongue but he figures time will make it easier. After all, it's not like he ever can return to Hawksmond unless whatever conditions the witch placed upon the curse are met.

Billy shrugs, stretching languidly across Steve's lap in all his naked glory. Something that Steve's doing his best to steadfastly ignore. "Some fancy bullshit like Stefano or Guillermino."

He snorts at that, covering his mouth with a clawed talon. "Why would you even think that?"

"You look the part, little birdy."

[onceupona-chaos]

The Moon Goddess

Azriel helps Elain to find her place in the Night Court. One-shot.

NOTE: I suck at doing summaries, but I have fun writing this one-shot here. I used a beautiful legend from my country to write this and I hope you enjoy!!! And as usual, forgive me for any mistakes, English is not my first language. Be kind! 💙

"How far is this place?"

They have been walking for what felt like hours now, the only light illuminating the tricky path that snaked between huge trees came from the full moon above them.

Even with her Fae vision, Elain couldn't see five feet ahead and there was absolutely no indication of where they were going. Azriel didn't offer details either.

Elain had tried her best that night to appear her usual self in the family monthly dinner at the lake house.

She'd tried to push those words aside, tried to forget them. That was all she could do: try, try, try.

But they kept coming back as if someone out there were whispering them in her ear, branding them into her brain.

She'd been working on Arya's garden, when the elderly fairy came to talk. Elain didn't mind the company at all, but she couldn't help the blow when Arya had said as a matter of fact that Elain wasn't the type who usually fitted in the Night Court.

Elain didn't know what exactly those words were supposed to mean or why she kept thinking about them, but it wasn't the first time someone told her that. Yes, she had family, friends and yet… would that be the reason she felt so empty sometimes? So lost in her own head?

She had been able to act normal at dinner despite those miserable thoughts swirling in her head as if they were mist. Or so she thought.

A glance at the other side of the table had revealed worried hazel eyes filled with sorrow glued on her. Elain had looked away quickly, feeling her cheeks heat.

After dinner, Elain was checking on dessert, when Azriel had entered the kitchen. It didn't take long for her to confess what was in her heart.

Things were still unsure and volatile between them, as if they were flame a second away to turn into a fire. Elain tried not to think about what would take to set them alight.

She knew why he kept his distance, why he was staying up at the House of Wind with Nesta and Cassian.

But she missed him. Their conversations until the latest hours in front of the fireplace, the sunny afternoons in comfortable silence, when she'd work on the garden whilst he sat close in one of the tables, going through some paperwork. Pure understanding would shone between them in those moments. Gods, she missed him. His calm, quiet presence always made her worries fade away as if they were nothing but a distant wind.

Azriel had listened to every word, his eyes opened, his expression soft. When she had finished, he merely said to meet him in the garden after the house went to sleep - and with that, he strode out back to the dinner room.

After all the lights has been out, Elain went to find him, subtle and unnoticed. Azriel was already wating for her in the garden.

He smiled at her before take her hand - and they were gone into shadow.

More than an hour after he had winnowed them in the middle of it seemed like a forest and began waking instead of flying, Elain was tempted to throw something at his head. Most likely her shoe.

It only got worse when he chuckled at her question. "Almost there."

"Where is there?"

At that, he turned to look at her, amusement sparkling in his eyes, shadows dancing over his shoulders. But he repeated, "Almost there."

Elain had a perfect plan in her head on how she would throw him in the Sidra when he stopped so abruptly that she almost bumped against his back. Azriel must have noticed if his smirk was any indication.

But he merely stepped aside, allowing her to see what she hadn't noticed before.

There, in the very heart of the forest, there was a serene lake, its water so clear and peaceful that Elain could see the bottom.

Floating on the water were hundreds of white flower buds. The full moon cascaded a silver glow, making them shine so bright as the stars.

A perfect mirror of the night sky above.

Azriel took a place by the shore and sat, his cobalt Shiphons gleaming on top of his hands.

For some reason, that place irradiated peace. Elain's heart was suddenly so light, her breathing so easy that she closed her eyes, letting that sereny in.

A moment later she sat beside him, his wings stretching behind her. He looked so… relax. Peaceful. Even his shadows were gone as if the calm magic of the lake had put them to sleep.

"Those are water flowers. There's a legend that explains their origin." It took a moment for Elain to process his words, too busy staring at him. She blushed a little, but couldn't take her eyes off of him. There, sitting at the shore of the lake by her side, with nothing but the moonlight allowing them to see each other, those hazel eyes shone, the hues of green as bright as the rarest emerald.

Elain only realized she didn't answer when he spoke again, his eyes never leaving hers. "There was this young female... Naia. She was known for her beauty and attracted the attention of males and females whatever she went, and after one look at her direction, some of them promised to make her the richest Fae alive. Others went to the deepest of Prythian to fight our most evil creatures and bring her their heads as proof of their worth.

"But she ignored them all.

"You see… Naia decided to devote all her love to the Moon. Back then, there were these legends - stories - where the Moon was the warrior-goddess Jaci, the Night Guardian."

As the words left his mouth, Elain felt a chill run down her spine as if somewhere Jaci's eyes were watching over them.

"Jaci had a… liking on young females and sometimes, when one of them captured her attention, she would turn them into a star. So they would dance for all eternity with the goddess in the skies.

"Naia had been in love with the Moon for all her life and dreamed of the day she would be chosen. Night after night, she waited for the Moon. When it appeared, she spent the whole night contemplating... and whispering her stories to the skies. She wanted the goddess to fall in love with who she was, and not for her beauty alone."

The way Azriel looked at her now, eyes soft… as if he could see her soul… Elain had to remind herself how to breathe.

He took a deep breath before went on, "But Naia was getting weaker. You see, she didn't want to eat or drink or sleep. All she wanted was to wait for Jaci's call.

"One night she was waiting for the Moon to emerge, sitting by a lake, when she noticed it appeared much closer. She thought it was finally her call, so Naia didn't think twice before throwing herself into Jaci's arms.

"But it wasn't Jaci. It was only the reflection of the Moon in the water. So Naia who was already weak due to her restless wait ended up drowning in the river."

He ran a hand through his hair. "It wasn't the goddess call... but Jaci had noticed the female. Naia didn't know, but Jaci could only turn a female into a star once every thirty-three years."

Elain didn't know why, but her eyes burned. Azriel only reached to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Jaci had heard every whisper, every word from Naia. She had fallen in love with her, but the goddess' hands were tied. And since Jaci hadn't called for Naia, she couldn't turn her into a star in the skies.

"Unable to let Naia die in vain, to never have a dance with the female she loved… Jaci turned Naia into the most beautiful flower and shaped it as a star - a water flower. That way during the night, Naia could finally dance with the Moon in the waters when it was reflected - even if it was only once a month."

He smiled faintly. "That's how the legends say the goddess of the Moon created the Water Stars, whose full splendor can only be seen… " He trailed off as his hand cupped Elain's face, a scarred thumb brushing away her tears. Then, his hand dropped to her chin and he gently turned her head to the lake.

"... at night."

Elain sucked in a breath in pure awe. It was like watching time pass in full speed, as if spring had come in a blink of an eye. When the reflection of the Moon was perfectly upon the lake's center, Time itself couldn't reach them anymore: the delicate white flower buds floating on the water were still at first. Suddenly they all began to tremble as if they had been awoken. And then, they bursted open, revealing glowing petals that seemed to be made of the purest diamond under the moonlight, hundreds of star-shaped flowers covering the lake as they bloomed.

And one by one, they bloomed. One by one, they glowed.

Azriel kept silent as Elain admire the scene before her eyes. She had never seen anything more beautiful, had never felt her heart so full of wonder.

Tears began to roll down her cheeks once again, each one of them a drop of pure extasy and peace. She didn't know for how long they watched the flowers, breathing their sweet scent, but Azriel spoke first, "I'm not familiar with the different types of flowers, but... these are the most beautiful in Prythian." Azriel's voice was a whisper in the night. "And yet, their lovely, true beauty is in the inside. And you can only see it at night. Here."

Elain looked away from the flowers - to find Azriel's eyes already on her, shining brighter than the moon above them now. Her heart jumped in her chest at the raw intensity there.

"Only you can choose where you belong, Elain. Only you."

Right there, she knew. It wasn't just a legend or a story. It was a gift - for her and only her. She blinked away the tears and whispered, "Thank you, Azriel".

The smile that bloomed on his face was even lovelier than the flowers' spectacle she'd just seen.

They sit there for a while, watching each other, with only a calm understanding between them. It was always like that with him.

After seconds or minutes or hours, Elain reached to untied the laces on her shoes.

"What -" Azriel cleared his throat, his brows furrowing. "What are you doing?"

Elain stood barefoot, the cold grass tickled against her skin. She smiled down at him, "Dancing with a goddess." She extended a hand. "Come with me?"

Azriel studied her for a heartbeat, gaping a little at her as if he didn't quite believe what she was asking. Then, he threw back his head and laughed. Not in a sarcastic, mocking way. But out of pure joy like a child seeing the first snowflakes falling from the sky.

Azriel stood, took off his boots and, a second later, his shirt, his tattooed golden-brown skin entirely visible under the moonlight. Elain's heart raced and her cheeks and chest burned a bit.

But even with the hard, sculpted muscles, the powerful wings peeking over his shoulders… It was because of his eyes Elain could hardly breathe. They blazed like stars, fiercely and lovely, as he took her still extending hand.

Azriel remained close to her, so close Elain didn't even acknowledge the cold water soaking her dress, making the fabric hanging tight to her body. Not with the heat of his body next to hers.

They swimmed and swimmed, Elain observing the the water flowers. And Azriel watching her. She could have swear his eyes were darker than before.

Until she couldn't take it anymore. His eyes on her, her skin cold from the water, but on fire from his gaze. She looked at him. "Come closer." Her voice was sure, steady.

Azriel went still, but a heartbeat later he was facing her, close enough to share breath, his skin gleaming with drops of water running down his broad chest.

Without knowing what to do, Elain began tracing his tattoos, feeling him shiver under her fingerprints.

One of his hands found her arm, the other went to stroke her neck, sending a lightning of heat through her body.

She didn't say a word. Neither did he. They were beyond any words of any language.

So they just touched each other, his hands on her, her hands on him, until their mouths collided and light exploded behind her eyelids.

That night, they danced between and under the stars, with only their moans and whispers as music.

[matter-of-a-pinion]

Prompt 4: Baleful

At 16 years old Livana Fallenruth had lived what she'd considered an impossibly boring life. She lived in the freezing wasteland of Western Coerthas on the outskirts of an incredibly small settlement where everybody knew each other's names and no one bothered to say them because it was too damn cold to hold a prolonged conversation. She didn't even live in Ishgard. At least if she lived there there would be things to do. At least there were people there… not that she had any idea how to interact with them.

"Hi. So. How do you feel about plants and animals? Because wow. I love them. And that's really all I know about!" just didn't strike her as the riveting pinnacle of conversational genius that she'd want it to be.

Not that that mattered much. The times she and her twin sister Nyra had gone to the city for supplies (always arriving and leaving later than they thought they would because time management was not their forte) she felt as though she wasn't even there anyway. No one noticed when she tried to talk to them because they were too busy trying to talk to her radiantly charismatic twin sister instead. Liv thought that should make her feel more comfortable, that not even being required to speak would make the excitement of being in the city less awkward for her. But it didn't. It annoyed her. Why did people gravitate towards Nyra like a moth to the flame and why did they treat Liv more like a fly buzzing around their ears?

"Stop giving me that look," her sister would say. "Or your face will freeze that way."

"What way?" Liv would ask.

Then Nyra would do an over-exaggerated mockery of Liv's sour, annoyed expression that always crossed her face when she'd try to ask a stranger for assistance and they'd address their response to her twin instead.

"I don't look like that!" Liv would huff, insulted.

"You look just like that!"

"You'll look worse when I punch you!"

"You'll look worse when I tell Mom and Dad you punched me!"

"Uuuuugh. I hate you!"

"Ha! No you don't! You love me!"

And of course Nyra was right. Even more infuriating than how everyone loved being around her twin was how they were right to feel that way. Liv felt that way too. She had as little choice in the matter as anyone else. Nyra was a flame after all. And it was so fucking cold in Coerthas…

At 16 it's easy to believe that life is destined to be exactly as it is at that moment for the rest of eternity. Relationships will be the same, feelings will be the same, the world will stay the same, and you'll remain the same too. But it doesn't work that way. Not for anyone. And not for the Fallenruth twins.

At 17 Liv started having the dreams. In them she'd wake up in her room but everything was frozen, everything encased in ice except for the big black raven perched on her bedroom dresser. Each time she had the dream it was there waiting for her with a sort of agitated demeanor, as though it had been waiting there for hours for her to arrive and was annoyed she hadn't bothered to apologize for wasting its precious time. 

It wasn't just that every item in the house was frozen, icicles hanging precariously from the ceiling and down from the lips of every bit of furniture, but the people were too. Never in exactly the same place in each dream, but always in the same condition: encased completely in unbreakable ice. And always with the same expression of their faces: somehow looking right at Liv, mouths twisted in scorn, and eyes burning with accusation despite the cold.

But Nyra? She was never frozen. Sometimes Liv would look for her in the dream and sometimes she wouldn't have to. The raven would alight to Liv's shoulder and flap its massive wings when her sister would arrive in the dream and Liv would turn to find her twin staring back at her, same accusatory expression written across her beautiful face. Then Nyra would raise her hand as though to cast a spell and…

Liv would wake up.

Her world only frozen in that every day felt exactly the same and every day was unfathomably cold in Coerthas. 

Liv decided at 18 she was done with the area. She was tired of being overlooked, she was tired of being "oh yeah, that's Nyra's sister", she was tired of the cold. She wanted to be somewhere teeming with sounds and life… but not people. She wanted deep dark forests alive with the sound of birds, insects, and frogs. She wanted babbling brooks and the creaking of ancient oak trees in the wind. She wanted to see animals she'd never seen before and plants she'd never cataloged. 

She moved to the Shroud and like a wilting plant left too long in the shade she bloomed once she found the sun. In the Shroud she disappeared into nature but found herself there too. She no longer felt lost. And without comparisons to her sister she no longer felt superfluous. 

She still missed Nyra. Of course she did. She was the one part of her old life she couldn't stop missing. But she had to get away. She had to put that distance there. She had to step out into her own life. Liv had to live.

At 21 she got the message from her father that they wanted her to come home. It was a messy letter, hastily written, one part full of confusing apologies, one part desperation. Her family rarely wrote to her and when they did it was certainly never like this. It was obvious something was going on. And she needed to go back. She needed help. And immediately. 

And in the biggest regret of her life…

She didn't. 

She waited.

Liv was never on time.

She had been working at Bentbranch Meadows on rehabilitating an injured raven and she was making great progress with it. It had been skittish and outright aggressive to the other workers and only seemed to calm down under Liv's care. Day by day its injured right wing got better and better. Soon it'd be able to fly again. She wanted to be there for that.

Three days after receiving the letter, she was there for that. That early morning was surprisingly cold. A thin fog had settled in the woods obscuring the details of the landscape so that Liv felt she'd stepped into the first layer of a painting or into a dream rather than reality. She moved into the room with Pebble the raven (so named for his obvious affection for his namesake) to see him looking agitated.

As though he'd been waiting for her for hours.

As though she'd wasted his precious time with her delay.

His wings fully healed he alighted to her shoulder and croaked loudly in her ear. And she could have sworn he said "Home."

That solidified it. She rushed back home, out of the comfort of her forests and back into the cold of Western Coerthas, past the settlement, to her family's modest home on the outskirts.

And she watched as her house began to turn to ice. She should have moved the moment she saw it but fear gripped her as steadily as the ice gripped the siding. And she'd always been bad on timing anyway. Five seconds earlier she might have been able to save her mother. Three and maybe her father. But by the time she broke into the downstairs window that had not yet covered in supernatural ice she only had to to save her twin sister.

And she swore the look Nyra gave her when she did that was one she'd never seen on her face save in dreams and when she was mocking Livana in Ishgard.

Anger.

And though afterwards she burst into tears and told Liv how happy she was she'd come and thanked her for getting her out of there… something felt off.

One home lost forever, the Shroud felt lost to her too. They might as well have both been frozen over by whatever that spell was. And as long as her parents were trapped inside, she was trapped by guilt and the paranoia that her twin sister, who everyone loved, herself most of all, hated her.

In Liv's mind, Nyra's face had frozen forever to what she'd seen inside the house: scornful lips and baleful gaze.

[mommy-medusa]

y'all thought you'd seen the last of me? NOPE! enjoy a scene between Medusa and Athena!

---

Medusa met her at the top of a cliff overlooking the sea around her island. There was a singular tree atop it, a giant, majestic olive, bearing juicy green fruits that Teddi would often snack on. Beneath its lush brambles, stood her visitor, glowing soft gold, staring out at the wine-dark ocean as the full moon reflected against the roiling surface and the shined armor she wore. When the owl arrived, it perched on her shoulder and tapped her on the cheek with its beak to get her attention.

Medusa still vividly remembered the first day they met. Teddi was only four at the time. They were coming back from a visit with Euryale, and the sky was dark and heavy with rain, but nothing could have prepared Medusa for what followed.

The storm hit them like a wall. Teddi dropped the rock she had been fiddling with and burst out crying. There were noises in the trees all around them. Visibility was zero.

For a moment, Medusa didn't know where they were.

Who she was.

Did she have a splitting headache on that day or was her mind just starting to make things up, back-projecting her memories like a faulty storyteller who kept forgetting details about the tale?

Whatever it may have been, it wasn’t even the worst part. There was something massive in the woods around them, something that circled like a frenzy of sharks who’d just smelled fresh blood. Medusa hadn’t been able to see who or what it was with the rain pelting into her eyes; the lack of sight was terrifying for her, as her main line of defense completely revolved around it.

Teddi was crying her little heart out, clinging to Medusa in terrified desperation. Medusa cupped the back of her head with her hand, pressing her face into her chest to muffle her strangled sobs, but it was not enough to make them hidden in the wake of what could only be described as a baby hurricane.

Something lunged out from the underbrush, and Medusa was prepared to defend her daughter, even if it meant dying.

But then there was a flash of white light, and a spear stabbed down into the beast’s skull, pinning it to the ground. Medusa looked up through the sheets of rain pouring down into her face, and a bolt of lightning lit up the figure of her celestial savior standing before her.

Now, however, there was no lightning to light the way. Instead, there was the full moon, and Selene’s glowing silver gaze backlit the goddess that had called upon Medusa to the meeting spot.

She was thin but muscular, donned in a pure white, full-length chiton that was padded with golden armor on her narrow shoulders and chest, its polished metal carved in the intricate design of an owl’s head coiled in olive vines. Shining gauntlets were clasped around her wrists, one hand holding a spear wound by a snake and the other bearing a shield of goatskin. A black cloak trimmed with emerald green serpents billowed in the slight breeze of night behind her, making her look like she had wings. On her head she wore a golden owl-shaped helmet, its gaze a glare of onyx. When she turned to Medusa, her eyes were as grey-blue as the ocean water and infused with light.

For a long moment, Gorgon and Goddess of Wisdom just looked at each other in silence.

“Athena,” the gorgon finally said.

“Medusa,” the goddess replied.

Medusa tipped her head at the serpent-trimmed cloak and snake-wound spear. “Did you bring those as a tribute to me?”

Athena’s face twitched slightly, like she was trying very hard to not react in a way that wasn’t mature. She was always like that, always keeping that dumb facade up because of the pressure put upon her by her father.

“I don’t tribute anyone,” Athena said curtly.

“I see,” Medusa said. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?” She slithered up the rest of the cliff’s incline delicately, her long tail leaving no trace in the damp grass. She closed the distance between her and her visitor, getting right in front of Athena, so close they were almost touching. “Or have you come to see me?”

Athena’s face did that thing again, this time with more of a noticeable struggle. Behind her luscious wisps of brown-black hair, Medusa almost thought she could see hints of red.

“No,” Athena said harshly. “I have not.”

“Oh?” Medusa placed a black-clawed hand on one of Athena’s shoulders, tracing the weaving designs inlaid across her armor pads. “Then for what did you summon your little messenger for?” She eyed the owl, which had shifted its position on an overhanging branch. It blinked back at her with those huge, goggle-like eyes of its.

Athena opened her mouth, then closed it a moment later, seemingly cornered. Medusa had her prey right where she wanted her. Her lips split open in a wicked smirk, venomous fangs flashing in the moonlight.

“Are you sure, dear Athena,” Medusa purred, leaning her face in close to Athena’s, her tail slowly wrapping around the goddess’ legs, “that you have not come to sate your desires with me?”

Athena pulled away suddenly, stabbing her spear into the ground like she was trying to command the earth to crack open and swallow Medusa up for her words. Her cheeks bore the flickers of an interesting shade of red, which Medusa would have additionally teased her on if she weren’t completely engulfed by laughter.

“Medusa,” Athena hissed.

“I apologize, I apologize--” Medusa sputtered out through her laughter. She had respectively pulled back as well, but couldn’t help the fit of giggles that rolled through her. “You just make it so easy!”

Athena’s nose wrinkled slightly. She seemed to have calmed herself, though she still had the faintest tint of a crimson blush on her cheeks.

“I apologize,” Medusa said again, straightening herself up. “I’m good now.”

“Are you really?” Athena asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Medusa answered, her voice evened out.

“Hm,” Athena’s gaze shifted back out to the water. She looked like she was watching for something. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Ever since that night eight years ago, Athena routinely made trips back to Sarpedon. At first, Medusa didn’t understand why; yes, she treated her to hospitality and dinner as thanks for the rescue, but why would the powerful goddess of wisdom and war herself want to stick around with a monster and her human child? Eventually, she found out: Athena was as lonely as she had been. Though, it came in a much different form compared to what Medusa used to feel.

Try as she might, Athena could not shield off all of her emotions. She had more walls than anyone Medusa had ever known before (which wasn’t a lot, but it was still something), but once she created cracks in the granite, she was able to read her as clearly as Nyx spelling out “I NEED FRIENDS” with the stars.

Medusa quickly picked up on all the little quirks she hadn’t noticed the first few times she and Athena met up--the face twitch thing, the way she would sometimes fall into an obedient silence, the constant tenseness in her muscles like she never relaxed--but then she started spotting even more mannerisms: the sheer will she had to use to keep her voice level, the mindset that she wasn’t allowed to show any emotions that weren’t deemed mature or leader-like, the way her voice raised a few octaves when she was flustered or taken off guard, the panic she felt when that pretense did start to slip.

Personally, Medusa preferred the goddess when she wasn’t wearing that stupid mask she created for herself. She liked the awkward, endearing Athena that could make Helios jealous when she smiled and was really bad at crab catching.

But at the same time, Medusa could understand why she had such a thing in place for herself. She didn’t walk about it often, Medusa believed she didn’t like to in the first place, but Athena shared what she wanted. And with every snippet she let slip out of her own personal struggles, Medusa understood a little bit more.

To be the favorite child of the King of Gods himself must be like constantly walking on eggshells. Medusa had thought her monstrous parents had been harsh and disciplinary, but after hearing stories about what it was like having Zeus as a father made her grateful to have Ceto and Phorcys instead of the bearer of lightning himself. She couldn’t truly understand such an experience, but she got a taste of it through Athena: through the constant tension in her body like she was a coiled jungle cat ready to spring, through the practiced reserved tone of voice, through the tired eyes from constant pressure from her father, through the guilty looks when she did show emotion and the guilty looks when she didn’t show emotion.

Athena came to Sarpedon time and time again to get away from all of that, to finally relax, and Medusa was determined to help her with that.

Still. It didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to tease the goddess.

“Are you waiting on a boat?” Medusa asked, following Athena’s gaze out to the water.

For a moment, Athena went rigid, but it went away as quickly as it came. She was usually very good about fixing the slips in her demeanor; another thing Zeus and his excellent parenting could be thanked for.

But this time-- this time something a little extra lingered behind before Athena was able to bury it away with every other emotion that she deemed negative. If Medusa hadn’t been so in tune with the way Athena acted, she probably would have missed it, but it was there, flickering in the reflection of the moon in her glimmering grey-blue eyes.

Fear.

“No,” Athena answered. “Just watching the water. It’s a beautiful view.”

Medusa let it slide for the moment. As concerned as she was, she knew better than anyone that Athena didn’t like to be pushed. She already dealt with it enough from her father, Medusa didn’t want her to have to deal with it from her safe person, too.

“It is,” Medusa agreed. Then, hoping to ease Athena’s obvious worry, she added breezily, “Not as beautiful as you, though.”

Athena went rigid again, but this time it was for an entirely different reason. The blush came back, deeper than before, and she tried to hide it by turning her head away, but Medusa had already caught on.

“Thank you,” Athena said in a clipped voice.

“You always act as though you’ve never been complimented,” Medusa said, sliding up next to her so they would both be standing at the edge of the cliff.

“On my strength,” Athena said. “I get complimented on my strength. And my fighting prowess and my ability to kill people.”

“Oh, so do I!” Medusa grinned at her.

“Not on-- on--”

“Your beauty?”

Athena looked away again, but the glow of the moon reflected against the red of her cheeks. “Mmm. Sure.”

“You know, one day I’m going to make you admit it,” Medusa said.

“Admit what?”

“That you’re pretty.”

“Mmm,” Athena made the noise again, something she would do when she was caught between a rock and a hard place and didn’t know what to say. “Over my dead body.”

It showed up again- the fear. It remained a little longer than the first time, and Medusa even heard Athena suck in a sharp breath before she was able to regain control of herself again.

The first time was worrying enough for Athena, but a second? Medusa was going to give the goddess one more chance to either open up herself or quiet her anxieties before she stepped in.

“Anyway, I’m immortal,” Athena went on hurriedly. “So it won’t ever happen.”

“Well, I’m immortal, too,” Medusa said. “So I’ll just wait it out with you.”

There it was again, and so close to the second time, too. Something really had Athena unsettled. But before Medusa could begin questioning her, Athena spoke up before she could, halting her words for the moment.

“You’re not immortal,” Athena almost growled. “You can die.”

Silence. The owl overhead shifted on its branch, as on edge as its goddess.

“Athena, what’s going on?” Medusa asked. “What’s wrong?”

Athena looked away quickly. “Nothing.”

“Athena--”

“Nothing is wrong,” Athena snarled, using the voice she often used for war in hopes that it would scare Medusa into leaving her alone. But the goddess of wisdom seemed to forget that Medusa had two monsters for parents, more specifically Ceto for a mother, and nothing was more frightening than the way they would roar when she or her sisters did something bad.

“Athena,” Medusa softened her own voice. She raised her tail and slipped it under Athena’s chin, making her look at her. “What’s wrong?”

Athena was quiet for a moment. Medusa thought she was going to give her the silent treatment before she finally relented, “A man approached me earlier today. Perseus. He asked for my help in slaying you.”

Medusa was silent.

“I didn’t agree,” Athena went on quickly, sounding slightly panicked. “I refused his request and sent him away. But still. I worried.”

Medusa couldn’t believe it: Athena, goddess of war, known for her incredible skill in battle, was freaked out for her sake. Out of all the things she had seen, the lifetime worth of carnage she had witnessed over the years, the tons of gore she was often drenched in during times of war, all the battles and the violence and the death, it was a man saying he wanted to kill Medusa that got her worked up.

Medusa began to laugh.

Athena was startled. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Medusa flicked her tail. “It’s just-- you have probably witnessed enough bloodshed and violence and other horrors to strike a mortal mind into complete insanity, and this is what frightens you?”

Anger flitted across Athena’s expression. It was more common than most of her other emotions, but still didn’t come out very often. When it did, Medusa thought she looked like a fiercer, adorable, more attractive version of Ares.

“Should I have agreed then?” Athena asked. “Maybe I should have given him a ride over on my giant owl?”

“You have a giant owl?”

“Not the point,” Athena snapped. “The point is that a man wanted to kill you and you are laughing.”

“Athena, darling, if you haven’t noticed, a lot of people want to kill me,” Medusa said. She could tell her lack of worry was getting on Athena’s nerves.

“No, you don’t understand!” Athena said, and she sounded completely panicked, now.

“Athena, breathe--”

“He was a demigod.”

That made Medusa pause. She blinked.

“Oh,” she finally said. “I see. How peculiar.”

Athena looked anguished. “Yes, and he’s dangerous. To you and to Teddi. And if anything happened to you, I--”

Medusa cupped Athena’s cheeks, silencing her. The goddess’s eyes were as big as the moon when she looked at her.

“Athena,” Medusa said, her tone both calm and commanding at the same time. “Breathe. It’s alright. Nothing is going to happen.”

“But--”

“Nothing,” Medusa cut her off, “is going to happen. Just breathe, darling. It’ll be alright.”

Medusa couldn’t believe it: the goddess of war and wisdom herself actually listened to her. Athena gave her a tiny nod and then shut her eyes, taking several deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth.

“Good,” Medusa purred, wrapping her tail around Athena. “I’ve handled myself well enough over the centuries, have I not?”

Another small nod.

“Now, tell me, dear Athena: who is this man?”

Athena finally opened her eyes, and Medusa could see that several of her walls had been let down. She could feel it, too; against the scales along her tail, Athena’s muscles were loosening their vice on her bones and her posture was slouching ever so slightly into Medusa’s grip.

“His name is Perseus,” Athena said. “He’s one of my many, many brothers, but this is the first time we’ve met.”

“Your father sure does know how to get around,” Medusa commented.

Athena snorted. Medusa loved it when she would laugh. “Tell me about it. But Perseus came to me asking for aid, something about your head being a gift for a king. I didn’t listen very much. I sent him away as quickly as possible.”

“And you were worried about me,” Medusa cooed, brushing back some of Athena’s hair. It was like silk against her fingertips.

“Yes, I was,” Athena said. “I do not want anything to happen to you.”

“You underestimate me, dear Athena,” Medusa said, leaning in. “I’m stronger than you think, and-- may I kiss you?”

With her jaw hanging open slightly, Athena nodded.

Medusa smiled, closed her mouth for her, and then pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. She craved the warmth Athena’s body held.

“As I was saying,” Medusa went on. “Nothing will happen. Everything is okay. You can relax now, my darling.”

Athena opened her mouth, most likely to object, but then closed it and nodded silently. Medusa kissed her again.

“I do, however, find your worry both adorable and incredibly attractive,” Medusa said, making Athena red. “Sit with me.”

They both sat on the edge of the cliff, looking out at the ocean. Medusa still had her tail loosely wound around Athena, but Athena didn’t seem to mind. She wasn’t making any effort to get her off.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Athena whispered at one point.

Medusa looked at her endearingly. “You won’t,” she said. “I promise.”

Athena nodded slightly.

“You were right,” Medusa said, gazing at the water. “The ocean is beautiful.”

“Almost as beautiful as you,” Athena mused.

Medusa laughed. “Bold, are we?” she grinned. “First my heart, now my words? What’s next, my dear Athena?”

Athena was smiling, now. “Your favorite citrus tree? I have yet to decide.”

Medusa laughed some more. It was moments like this that really made her think about what her life had become. So much had changed in a span of only twelve years, and though it moved fast, she enjoyed every minute of it. She held those memories like stars, and they seemed to be laid out before her in the glittering night sky as she sat there on that cliff, Athena by her side, thinking.

[min-sugar-7]

DAY 6: “Can I uncover my eyes now?” “No, stop being impatient.” + Humor

Read it Here on AO3:

 “Can I uncover my eyes now?” Merlin said, not two minutes after Arthur covered them. 

 Arthur rolled his eyes, but still got a jab in his stomach from Merlin. “I could hear that eye-roll,” Merlin grinned over his shoulder. 

 “Shut up. Stop being impatient, Merlin.” 

 They were outside, in the dead of the night, stumbling through the forest like lunatics. Arthur tried hard to make sure Merlin wouldn’t crash into trees, but branches are pesky little things. Merlin let out another hiss when a tree branch grazed his arm. 

 “You’re going to remove this blindfold, or I’ll burn it,” Merlin hissed, rubbing his arm. Arthur sighed, resigned. He was determined to keep the location a secret, to see Merlin’s reaction when he would realize where they were. 

 “Just a bit longer.” Arthur guided Merlin to a clearing, a familiar one. Not much had changed since the last time they were here. The river still flowed, the long grass still tickled their ankles, and the air still felt chilly and clear. Arthur had planned this right to the smallest details. He'd tried his best to recreate the night they kissed.

 Arthur untied the knot to Merlin’s blindfold, letting it drop. Arthur saw everything, every expression that crossed his face. First, it was confusion, then realization sparked his eyes like the stars in the night sky. A brilliant smile crossed his features, giving it a manic edge. Then his eyes turned soft, dark in the moonlight. 

 Merlin met his eyes, face almost glowing in the starlight. “Prat,” Merlin muttered, drawing Arthur into a soft kiss. It’s been a month, but it still felt like the first time. Merlin’s kisses were eccentric- the softness of his lips contradicting the feel of his calloused hands framing Arthur’s face. His touch sent the same sparks, same feeling. He kissed like a man struggling for air, but sometimes they were soft and chaste and loving. 

 Arthur pulled back, resting his head against Merlin’s, relishing the warmth his body provided. “There’s more,” he muttered after a while of comfortable silence. 

 “Oh?” Merlin asked, fluttering his eyes open. Up this close, Arthur could see the faint blue of his eyes and the dim gold that freckled them. The darkness made it harder to make out anything else. 

 “Yeah,” Arthur said, “only if you have the patience to wait.”

 Merlin’s lips twitched upwards. “The one lacking patience would be you, your royal highness.” Arthur shook his head because only Merlin could make it sound like “chamber pot.”

 “None of that.” Arthur slipped his hand into Merlin’s, intertwining them. “I’ll have you know I’m plenty patient.”

 “Funny,” Merlin smirked. “If I can recall correctly, you’re the one who unceremoniously crashed his lips to mine, instead of waiting until the laws were repealed, like we agreed.” 

 Arthur shrugged his shoulders. “Would you rather I had not?”

 Merlin immediately shook his head, saying, “nuh-huh, kiss me again.” Arthur was more than happy to oblige. 

 Arthur dragged him to the picnic blankets he’d laid out this morning. Merlin raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Okay, which servant knows about us? ‘Cuz I definitely didn’t lay all this out,” Merlin said, sounding genuinely surprised. 

 “All me,” Arthur smirked, feeling proud. Merlin’s eyes widened, lips pressed in an impressed line. Arthur felt his pride soar. 

 “Impressive. Hard to believe, but impressive,” Merlin said and sat down. Arthur did the same. Arthur pulled out the fruits, bread, cheese, and tart cakes he packed from the basket. He laid it all out for Merlin to see. 

 “Are those apples and blueberry tarts? Who are you and what have you done to Arthur Pendragon?” Merlin narrowed his eyes in fake suspicion. 

 “The real Pendragon is rotting in my dungeons, Emrys. I’m here to kidnap you and make you my pet sorcerer,” Arthur lowered his voice for extra effect. Merlin gasped, his hands flying to cover his mouth.

 Merlin froze and then lowered his hands, face morphing into a thoughtful expression. “Will there be blueberry tarts?”

 “Plenty,” Arthur smirked.

 Merlin shrugged, reaching forward to grab some. “I see no problem with this, then.”

 They both stared at each other for a beat and then burst out laughing. Arthur loved moments like these. Moments where he could forget that he was King and Merlin was a powerful sorcerer, and enjoy the ridiculous company Merlin is. It was just them being completely, utterly, ridiculous. 

 “No, but seriously,” Merlin said, once they sobered up, “what do I owe this pleasure to?” 

 Arthur thought about it, “just for us. I wanted to show you something, but you have to wait.”

 Merlin smiled a soft one smile and shrugged. “As long as I’m waiting with you. What is it?”

 Arthur had to scold his heart for speeding up like that, especially when Merlin shifted over to cuddle with Arthur. His heart, obviously, did not listen. Merlin didn’t say anything about it. 

 “Well, you know that Astronomer that visited a few days ago?” Merlin nodded. He’d come with a visiting delegation from a kingdom of magic. Arthur had already made peace with the Druids. Now, he thought it was best to start with the neighboring kingdoms, too. Of course, the visiting delegation immediately recognized Merlin, and it was fun watching Merlin get all flustered and shy. 

 “He said a giant star would fall tonight, leaving a trail of ice. I wanted to watch, with you,” Arthur said and pulled Merlin closer. The night was getting colder. Merlin turned and gave a look so full of adoration, Arthur just had to kiss him again. “I don’t know how he knew, but…” Arthur trailed off, shrugging. 

 “He was a seer, remember? And he studies the sky for a living.”

 And so they waited. They teased, bantered, kissed, ate, and teased some more. They watched the sky, but Arthur spent most of it watching Merlin. Sometimes, if he turned a certain way, it looked like the stars were embedded in his eyes, twinkling and shining. Arthur loved him, so much, that it felt amazing. 

 “I’d seen this before, in Ealdor, I think.” Merlin burrowed his head on Arthur’s chest. Sometime during the night, they’d laid down on the blanket, too tired to sit up. Arthur tightened his grip around Merlin’s waist, pulling him closer. 

 “Hm?” Arthur hummed, telling Merlin to continue. Arthur buried his nose in Merlin’s messy hair, breathing in the comforting scent there. Merlin smelt like home- like the forests, crisp and fresh. Oh God, Arthur loved him.

 “I don’t remember much.” Merlin sighed. “But it was beautiful. I’m not sure if it’s the same thing.”

 “Can’t trust you to remember much, anyway. It’s a miracle you remember your own name.”

 For his efforts, Arthur got a mumbled, “shut up,” and a slap to the chest, followed by laughter. Worth it. 

 “As I was saying-” Merlin shifted, sliding his legs between Arthur’s, burrowing closer, “- it was a very big star, more like a chunk of rock or something. It left a trail of blue light behind, a long one. It was like a tail or something. It was beautiful.”

 “That sounds impossible. Rocks? In the sky?” They would fall down to the Earth. 

 “I know. But it wasn’t a star, I’m sure. It was too big.” Arthur stared dubiously because it sounded ridiculous. This led to a fairly stupid discussion (read: argument) on whether there could be rocks in the sky. Merlin thinks the Sun and Moon are rocks, while they’re obviously just big stars. Arthur said that this giant “rock” is just a hoax or something. 

 “I have faith. Maybe it’s true,” Merlin said, shivering. 

 “Cold?” Merlin nodded. Arthur went to the basket and brought out another blanket, earning a kiss from Merlin. They snuggled close, exchanging kisses and jabs.

 When the moon was halfway across the sky, Arthur gave up. It did put a damper on his mood, a big one, in fact. He wanted to show Merlin something pretty, something impossible. But it just didn’t happen.

 “Hey, stop pouting,” Merlin said, poking at Arthur’s lower lip. He wore a small smile and leaned forward to press another kiss. “It doesn’t matter-”

 “It does, though,” Arthur sighed. 

 Merlin’s eyes went all soft and adoring, his hands running through Arthur’s hair. “I’m happy, though. It’s been a while since I had this much fun,” Merlin confessed.

 Arthur had to agree. The past couple of months were hectic. He got crowned King, Merlin showed him a side of himself which Arthur never knew about, they fought, made up, almost kissed, decided they weren’t ready, and then kissed again because Arthur couldn’t wait. Then there were the countless meetings and delegations and feats. In the end, they were both worn out and tired. 

 But Arthur wanted to, perhaps, maybe, try doing something romantic. He failed, obviously, and it was disappointing. Arthur wanted to see Merlin’s brilliant smile, hear his melodious laugh, lose himself in his eyes. Arthur hated the fact that he’d gone all soft, but Merlin made it all worth it. 

 Merlin sighed, letting his head rest on Arthur’s chest. “Alright,” Merlin said, raising his head again. “I could show you what I saw in Ealdor as a kid.”

 Arthur considered it. If they wait for too long, they’d lose the night sky and won’t be able to see anything. 

 “How?” 

 Merlin smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. He raised an arm and wiggled it, “magic.”

 Arthur chuckled, impressed. “I thought you said magic was to be used judiciously, or something like that.”

 Merlin frowned, shrugging. “I think I can make an exception.” 

 Merlin rolled away from Arthur’s chest, resting beside Arthur. Arthur turned his head so that he could see Merlin. He inched his hand closer to Merlin’s because he missed the physical contact. Merlin wordlessly held Arthur’s hand and closed his eyes. 

 Merlin said something Arthur couldn’t quite understand, but when his eyes opened, they flashed a brilliant gold. It reminded Arthur of sunsets. Merlin's face twisted, eyes narrowing in concentration and effort. His grip on Arthur’s hand suddenly tightened, making Arthur jump.

 “Merlin-” Arthur began to protest because Merlin’s grip suddenly slacked. Arthur’s stomach dropped, because what if Merlin hurt himself? He always pushes himself to his extent, poking and prodding at his limits.

 Merlin turned his head to the side, his eyes tired. The corners of his lips twitched up, smiling lazily. 

 Arthur’s heart dropped. Arthur pulled him closer, cradling him in his arms. Oh God, what if Merlin really hurt himself? Arthur should have known that it was a bad idea. Dammit. 

 “Watch,” Merlin slurred. Arthur couldn’t take his eyes off Merlin. He could not; will not. It was his fault, and Merlin isn’t telling him what’s wrong- “If you miss it, I’ll never forgive you.” 

 Arthur reluctantly tore his eyes away from Merlin, clutching him closer. And, oh, oh. It was large, larger than a wishing star, but smaller than the moon. But it left a beautiful trial of white and blue, glittering like a million stars crowded in one area. It moved across the sky, and in about a couple blinks, it was gone, leaving behind a trail of white dust. 

 Not a few seconds later, a wishing star passed by. Arthur knew it was childish and stupid, but he closed his eyes and wished a wish. 

 Arthur turned his head to where Merlin was still watching the sky. Something heavy bloomed in his heart, something spectacular, magical. Arthur wondered what he had done to deserve Merlin- someone so beautiful, so magical, so, so- Merlin. 

 Arthur was shocked by the intense wave of emotions he felt. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, content to continue watching Merlin watch the night sky. Merlin turned, and soon they were staring at each other.

 Arthur is very well aware that he looks like a love-sick fool, and for once, he doesn’t care. He wants Merlin to know, to understand, just how much he cares for him, how much he loves him. 

 So he did. Under the night sky, under the stars, right after Merlin did something that seemed so impossible, Arthur pulled him closer, delighted to have him in his arms. “I love you,” he whispered, and meant it with every fiber of his being. He’s never felt so deeply for anyone. He never let himself. But Merlin, sweet, loyal, impossible, Merlin, broke through every one of his walls and carved a Merlin-shaped hole in his heart. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

 Merlin’s expression changed from droopy to delighted, smiling wide and lazy. Merlin leaned forward but couldn’t get far. But Arthur understood. He pressed his lips against Merlin’s, nipping at his bottom lip, sucking it. Merlin’s kisses got sloppier, and Arthur pulled back. 

 “I lov’ y’u to-'' Merlin began slurring, but Arthur understood. He placed a soft kiss on his forehead, heart about to burst. He tucked Merlin’s head under his chin, bringing the blanket up to Merlin’s chin. He tucked him in, weirdly comfortable sleeping on the ground, but it mostly had to do with Merlin being in his arms.

[dontshootmespence]

Through It All

Part 14

Summary: Now married, Spencer & Y/N navigate the D/s lifestyle. How will their relationship change?

Words: 1,966

Warnings: Lactation kink, fingering, nipping.

A/N: My next entry for @cm-kinkbingo​ run by my beautiful girlfriend @heycasbutt​. This fulfills my lactation kink square.

In the warm sunlight streaming through your window, you can feel Spencer’s arm fitting snugly around your waist, holding you close. As you begin to stir, you realize he’s already awake too. Since it’s a weekend day, you have no plans, aside from taking care of the adorable time-vampire that is Charlotte Magnolia Reid. “So what are we doing today, handsome?” You mumble, the words barely decipherable to your own ears.

Spencer kisses the back of your hair before nuzzling his nose into the side of your neck. It tickles and sends you into a fit of laughter that ends up with you laying on top of him. “We aren’t doing anything,” he says with a glint in his eyes. “But you are.”

“What?”

Is it mom brain fog? Have you forgotten something you had planned?

When Spencer clocks your quizzical look, he laughs. “I have a surprise for you. You have to be ready by 11 AM.”

Spencer playfully smacks your ass when you get up before following you to the bathroom, where you get in one of your rare shower quickies. And Charlotte hasn’t woken up yet! Rejoice! She’s not sleeping through the night just yet, but she’s down to only waking up once or occasionally twice.

While you dry your hair, Spencer gets Charlotte, who finally begins to stir. They pass the bathroom and you sneak a kiss to your baby’s cheek. “I’ll be right there for feeding!” You cry out from the tiled walls.

“There’s a bottle left in the refrigerator, I got it!”

Since you have no idea where you’ll be going, you put on minimal makeup and then walk outside to where Spencer’s feeding Charlotte on the couch, talking to her about the people passing by on the street below - making up stories about them. “Babe, I don’t know where I’m going so what do I wear?”

“Wear one of my graphic tees and your most comfortable pair of leggings.”

With your instructions, you slip into your bedroom and get dressed. Spencer’s shirt is a tad too tight considering the girls are still big, but it’s good enough and the next few hours pass without any major incidents aside from a bit of spit up on Spencer’s pajama shirt.

As you’re rocking Charlotte to a mid-morning nap, there’s a knock at the door. “I’ve got it,” Spencer replies when he sees you go to get up.

Emily, Tara, Penelope and JJ are plowing inside in a matter of seconds, cooing over ‘little baby genius Reid.’ “Good god,” Tara says softly. “She’s so beautiful. How do you two not stare at her every second of every day?”

Sometimes it’s difficult, with her soft brown hair like her father’s and big beautiful eyes the same color as yours. “Well, some days, we do exactly that, and other days she doesn’t want to sleep or she’s sick and driving me crazy, so then I normally see the inside of the pillow into which I’m screaming,” you say quickly, flashing them a cheesy grin.

JJ snorts. It’s been a while, but she remembers the feeling well. “Did Spence tell you what we’re doing today?”

Shaking your head, you glance toward where Spencer’s standing in the kitchen, gathering ingredients together that seem to be for tonight’s dinner. “Paint and wine class,” he says proudly. “After I saw you painting Charlotte’s nursery, I knew it had to be done eventually.”

“Aww, you’re so romantic, I love you.” You swoon and run to kiss him, blushing as the girls ooh and ahh over Spencer’s sweet gesture. He’s your everything in every way. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Spencer takes her from your arms and looks down to talk to her, shaking her little hand with his fingers. “We’ll be okay, right? You won’t kill me?”

Laughing, you grab your purse off the counter and give him another kiss before leaving with the girls. It’s been ages.

--

Thankfully, Dr. Obel cleared you a while ago for the occasional cup of coffee or glass of wine, despite still breastfeeding, so you nurse the hell out of a glass of red at the painting party. Besides you, Emily, Tara, JJ and Penelope, there are four other women there that know each other and are much less animated. In other circumstances, you might feel bad about being so loud and laughing like a maniac, but you haven’t had a girls’ day out in months, so fuck it.

At these classes, they always have someone teaching and a specific painting is chosen ahead of time. After a while of listening to the instructor, you paint what she’s painting, but at your speed and adding little flourishes here and there. While most of the ladies have basic paintings (because admittedly they’d rather be drinking than painting), you end up with something you’re really happy with.

Shadowed pine trees sit on a moonlit lake, stars, trees and the moon alike mirrored in the lake’s surface in a myriad of colors. Bob Ross is one of your biggest influences when it comes to painting, and by the end, it feels like you’ve done him proud. “Damn, Y/N!” Emily says, taking the last sip of her third (and last) glass of wine. “Spencer said you could paint, but that’s fucking spectacular!”

All the ladies, and even the instructor, praise your work. At first, you deny it and tell them it’s not all that, but eventually you allow yourself the praise. Something you’re working on. “Ladies, this was amazing. Can we make this like an every other month thing? Every third month?”

“Hell, yea,” Penelope says, quickly picking up one of the hors d'oeuvres and shoving it into her mouth. “Man, thith iz gud.”

“Sewiously, I ‘eed the recipe,” Tara replies with her mouth equally full.

The subway ride back to your apartment is filled with random girl talk and lots of baby talk. Everyone wants to know Charlotte’s milestones and to see every single picture you’ve ever taken, which is already a lot given she’s less than a year.

Upstairs, you all walk in just as Charlotte needs a diaper change. When Emily and Tara offer to take dirty diaper detail, you just smile and sink into the couch. You’re not about to argue with just a little extra time off mom duty.

“Well, this was amazing,” JJ says, running her finger down Charlotte’s cheek. “You guys need anything? All set on food and stuff?”

“Yea, JJ,” Spencer replies. “We’re all good. For now.”

Once the ladies leave, you gather Charlotte close to your chest and lift your shirt. The time away refueled your batteries and you sigh happily when she begins to eat.

“Have a good time?” Spencer asks. You point back to the painting which is propped against the wall near the door. “That’s beautiful!”

“Thanks, babe. And thanks for the surprise. It was really nice to have a girls’ day.”

Spencer’s hand sits around your shoulder, his fingers slipping delicately into your hair. “I’m glad you had a good time. I have my girls right here.”

“Did you two fare okay?”

He nods and you both sit in silence for a moment. You lean into him, content and relaxed. The peaceful atmosphere allows your mind to wander and when you mind wanders, it tends to walk into dirty territory; today is no different. “Hey, Spence, I have what might seem like a weird question.”

“Shoot.”

“Have you ever thought about you know, maybe doing that wonderful thing you do with your hands while getting a firsthand taste of breast milk?”

Immediately, his pants tighten. “I hate the fact that it has been a consistent thought since your  boobs grew, yea. Definitely thought about it. Like I don’t wanna sit here and have you feed me or anything, but like...a little taste? Yea.”

“Wanna maybe give it a go later?”

A smile is all the answer you need.

---

Later that night, once Charlotte is finally asleep, you and Spencer practically trip into your bedroom, peeling off clothing like you’re in a nudist colony.

Spencer groans appreciatively when you jump into his arms and peel off your shirt and bra. He carries you toward the bed and plops you down onto the mattress unceremoniously, laughing as he wriggles you out of your leggings.

When he descends upon you, eyes hungry and hands frenzied, your smile fades into a lust-filled gaze that has Spencer nipping at your neck and chin and lips. ��God, you’re gorgeous,” he mumbles against you, honeyed voice running deliciously up your spine. For a moment you get in your head; you don’t feel gorgeous as of late, still a ways away from your pre-baby body, but Spencer snuffs that thought out of your head. “Stop thinking and feel.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He slithers his way down your body and licks a stripe up your slit with a flattened tongue, moaning at your taste before slipping two fingers into your sodden pussy. “So wet for me already?”

“Always for you, Sir.”

Spreading your legs with his hands, he crawls back up, nipping and biting and sucking at any and every patch of skin that pleases him. And all you have to do is lay back and enjoy it and he calls you his good girl.

When he latches onto your nipple, the tug on your breast is similar but the feeling is altogether different. The way he rolls his tongue over your nipple causes you to arch into him, gathering his hair in your hand and pushing him closer. Every time he nips at your nipples, bringing them to taut peaks, it shoots straight to your core and you buck into his hand. “So wet, Sir.”

“Does this get you off, love?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Excuse you,” he says, immediately stilling his fingers.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels wrong. Taboo.”

“And that gets you off?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“My dirty girl.”

Switching from nipple to nipple, never leaving one untouched for too long, his fingers stroke at that sensitive spot inside you. You buck down into his hand and reach between you, slipping your hands into his pants to stroke softly at his hardening cock. “Come for me, Y/N,” he breathes, his palm sitting heavily on your clit. “I want you to come for me.”

His words ignite a fire inside you, white hot light bursting before your eyes as he latches onto your nipple one last time. “Fuck, Sir,” you laugh shakily, stroking his cock harder and faster. “Now, come for me. I need to see you.”

Spencer bites down on your lower lip and pulls away, hissing through clenched teeth as his orgasm starts to roll over him. “That’s it, baby. Harder. Keep going.”

All you can hear over the sound of your movements, wet and slick and rough, is the rolling growl that leaves Spencer’s mouth when he comes in your hand and over both your stomachs. “Shit.”

“Have fun?”

“Yes,” he laughs, exhaustedly collapsing at your side. “You feeling okay? You were getting in your head for a second. I could feel it.”

“Yea, still having body issues. But I’m working on it.”

“I have an exercise for you to do. Not physical,” he says quickly. “A self love one. Every morning when we get up, I want you to look in the mirror and say one thing you like about yourself. You can start with things that aren’t physical and then work up to physical.”

A sleepy, content smile spreads across your face. This is the dynamic you always wanted - someone you could rely on in every single way. Even at your lowest, your craziest, your most overwhelmed, Spencer is there for you, telling you how beautiful you are as you drift off in his arms.

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[little-peril-stories]

Up here, no one else can see me. Up here, no one can say a damn thing when I pull up my sleeves. There’s no one to gasp or gawk as I reveal the soft, scandalous flesh of my arms and trace my fingers along, throwing into sharp relief what must remain invisible at all other times: black-as-night ink painted on the canvas of my skin. It’s a shame the tattoo would send me to prison if the constables saw it, because it’s beautiful. Sometimes I just stare down at the details—the leaves bursting from a tree in full bloom, the ring around its swirling, entwined roots. Would anyone else, other than my fellow runners or the constabulary, know what it means if they caught a glimpse? I’m not so sure, but they’d certainly be confused if they saw it on my arm. Silas Cooper’s daughter, tattooed like a common criminal? A gentlewoman like her? How? Why? What happened? I scowl into the night. Breanna Cooper died with Silas, or at least I like to think she did. When I think back on the girl who stumbled, dry-eyed, away from her father’s deathbed and then ran from the man she was supposed to marry, out into a chilly autumn night much like the one I’m gazing into now, I don’t recognize her—don’t recognize myself. That girl ran into a life of nothing, yes. But isn’t that also what she ran away from? Hugging my knees to my chest, I close my eyes and tilt my head back to feel the breeze. If my father could see me now, wearing the sigil of the city’s most notorious gang of thieves on my body, he’d be spitting furious. Cherry-faced furious. Raise-his-arm-and-swing furious. If the man who would’ve been my husband could see me now…I think he’d be much the same. The roof and its bird’s-eye view of the city always make me pensive. Not sad, per se, but certainly reflective. I can’t help but wonder who I’d have been if little pieces of my life had been different. If Father hadn’t lost our fortune, if Mother hadn’t died, if Father hadn’t sold me off to the highest bidder and then kicked the bucket himself. If I’d sentenced myself to stay with a man who was exactly like my father. If I hadn’t run away.

The Prince of Thieves

[jibbdrabbs]

✎ [12:00 AM]ˎˊ-

The night was cool and the breeze was calm, with the moon high in the sky, like a hanging silver claw in the deep navy of night; but despite the calmness of it all, Baekhyun couldn’t sleep. He turned over in bed, ignoring the groaning protest from Kai who lay at his side as he gazed out into the night. The window was open, the breeze pushing past the curtains and into the room, and Baekhyun let out a sigh that carried with the wind, willing himself to sit up. He stood from the bed to leave the bedroom, padding on light feet down the stairs, and putting on a random pair of slippers, without checking whose they were, before opening the front door with a click and heading out of the house. 

His feet crunched on the gravel road as he walked down it, watching the sky intently as he studied the patterns of the stars. 

“You’re out late,” a voice said. Baekhyun jumped with a start at the sudden noise and turned to see Kyungsoo sitting on part of the old rotting fence that lined the edge of the road. He had his journal in his lap, his pen busily working in his hand to jot down something before he lifted his gaze to meet Baekhyun’s. 

“So are you.” Baekhyun replied easily, and Kyungsoo smiled with a small shrug. 

“I’m always out this late,” he answered simply, his gaze trailing back up to the sky. “I like tracking the stars and the moon. The moon likes secrets you know,” Kyungsoo said, more of a statement than a question. “She likes secret things.” Baekhyun looked up at the sky and hummed.

“I think you’ve been reading too many scriptures lately,” Baekhyun teased with a grin, earning a light punch in return. But despite this, Kyungsoo was still left smiling stupidly as he continued his stargazing. “Anything new from our beloved galaxies lately?” Baekhyun asked after a moment and Kyungsoo nodded. 

“There was an eclipse on Earth recently. And I can feel the earth rustling under my fingertips. Do you feel it too?” He asked, looking back at the older. Baekhyun did feel it- like a bright ball of energy ready to burst from his chest. It was welcoming and warm, but it left him on edge. 

“Yes, but something’s off,” Baekhyun said, his brows furrowed. “It’s like something’s ebbing away at my soul.” Trying to describe it was harder than he thought. It was a feeling of decay that ached through his body like nothing he had felt before, and it was leaving a terrifying sense of dread in its wake. 

“Yea, I feel it too,” Kyungsoo said softly, glancing towards the courtyard behind their home where the Tree of Life could be seen standing tall and proud, its limbs rustling in the breeze of the night. “Maybe she’s trying to warn us of something…” He mutters softly, drawing Baekhyun’s gaze to the tree as well. The younger shook his head after a moment as if to clear it of the thought. “Anyway, you should go back and get some sleep. It’s pretty late.” 

Baekhyun let out a huff of laughter before moving to sit beside Kyungsoo, kicking his feet once he sat steadily on the fence. 

“I’ll be alright. Let’s stay out a bit longer. Besides, I couldn’t sleep,” he replied with a drawl. Kyungsoo smiled and nodded, holding Baekhyun’s hand idly before picking up his pen and jotting something down in his journal that sat in his lap. Baekhyun just watched the sky, content with holding the younger boy’s hand as the serene calmness of the night hovered effortlessly around them. “Tell me about the stars,” He said suddenly. Kyungsoo hummed in thought for a moment, flipping back a couple pages. He skimmed the scribbles of writing on the old parchment for a moment before drawing his gaze up to the sky.

“Well, for starters actually, there’s a new star in the sky tonight that I’ve never seen before.” Kyungsoo said, tilting his head and letting go of Baekhyun’s hand before lifting up an arm to point at a certain gleaming dot above them. He leaned into Baekhyun a bit to be sure his pointing was showing the right one to the older before swaying back to sit how he had been before, looking down at his note once more. “It’s been moving in strange patterns too- normal stars don’t move ever, its normally our positioning that makes it seem so. And yet, the size of it doesn’t match with a meteor or comet.” 

Baekhyun watched the object with a tilted head. He couldn’t quite see it moving and he wondered how in the world Kyungsoo knew how to properly compare it to a meteor or a comet, but he supposed if you’d been staring at the same stretch of sky so intently each night for the last 8,000 or so years, you would get to know the details of it all pretty well.

“Maybe it’s a ship.” Baekhyun suggested after a moment. It wouldn’t be all that odd of an idea. They knew full well that there were others out there- other humans, other deities, other species. Kyungsoo let out a small sound of agreement at that and nodded. 

“Perhaps.” He reasoned, tilting his head and scrunching his nose a bit. “It’s awfully big and clunky for a well developed species though, so they must be less developed life forms,” He said, flipping a couple pages in his journal and jotting down the important details of their conversation for later. Kyungsoo shut his notebook with a heavy sigh, looking out across the vast expanse of land before them. Baekhyun followed his gaze.

Their planet was nothing exciting- it was a lot like earth in the way it was structured and filled, but from what the twelve of them knew they were the only creatures resembling something human on the entire planet. It wasn’t too horrible- they had each other, they had their garden, and if they wandered far enough they had the far lands that they used to practice using their powers on as children. Baekhyun could still fondly remember the first time Kyungsoo and Suho had worked together to create mockups of the pyramids that now inhabited earth. But, as Chanyeol had mentioned, it got boring sometimes. It was calm, it was peaceful, it was perfect, but it was just- boring. 

“Do you ever just wonder,” Baekhyun began, his voice hushed. “what it’s like on earth?” He said the sentence blissfully as he tried to envision it- the varying terrain from mountains to fields, the expanses of towering buildings that the human species had managed to somehow create without a single ounce of magic, -but no matter how hard he tried to envision it all, he knew he would never truly know what it was like unless he ever got to go himself.

“I suppose I do,” Kyungsoo began thoughtfully. He hopped off the fence after a moment and began to walk around it, making his way to the garden behind the house. Baekhyun watched him for a moment before scrambling off the fence to follow him, trailing not too far behind as they made their way towards the courtyard.

Baekhyun had been out here at night a couple of times before, but it still amazed him to see it dimly lit by nothing but the silver glow of the moon above them. The creek looked most beautiful in this gray light, but that wasn’t their intention for being back here and Baekhyun knew it.

They stood before the tree in silence, scanning the way it’s elegant form reached out for the stars, it’s trunk and leaves still as lively and beautiful as they had been when they first saw it. Kyungsoo smiled knowingly before giving a small nod.

“It’s late, let’s go to bed.”

─ 𝙅𝙞𝙗𝙗*:･ﾟ✧ (and so the EXO brainrot begins-)

[falcon-eye]

So I’ve been writing on my phone and this one almost made me lose my shit because when initially hitting “copy” I accidentally hit “paste” and deleted the entire fucking thing. Thank GOD gmail keeps a copy of your notes. Holy shit.

Again made for @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU

Veko and Eloise’s domestic adventures continue! I’m so happy people actually like them! I’ve grown so close to them both. This will be part of their bigger story, because since I’ve been writing on my phone they’ve been really small and when I expound on them I want to add more details before all this, like about Veko and Hamra and all that. So consider these teasers I guess? That’s why the endings feel so abrupt. Or that’s the excuse I keep telling myself. I don’t know. But when I finally post everything it will be on AO3, and I may put these little ficlets on AO3 as a fic as well.

Anyway hope you enjoy this one! Veko and Eloise return!

——————

The next time Veko saw Eloise was just as bizarre as the first. Except this time, she ended up helping him as opposed to him saving her father again. It was, somehow, even more awkward.

It was a few weeks of a full year later. What was supposed to just be one kikimora turned into a while nest, and despite this, the alderman barely wanted to pay him what he said he would for the one kill, let alone a whole cluster of them. He wouldn’t even let Veko inside. Luckily it had almost literally just stopped raining. But it was getting to the point where Veko was having to take a few calming breaths between the arguing; the alderman was a miserable prick, but Veko didn’t want to snap on the guy.

“You take what I give ye an’ be done with it!” the alderman shouted, reaching for the dagger at his belt. “Or you’ll get no coin and—“

“Husband!” a woman’s voice rang out. Veko and the alderman jumped; fucking rain and yelling, making Veko’s senses dull. A small force practically ran into him from the side and wrapped a hand around his elbow. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Uh—“

“Eloise!” the alderman exclaimed. Oh shit, that’s where Veko knew her from! “Nothing t’ worry about, this Witcher was jus’ leaving.”

Eloise turned to Veko, pressing closer. “You were?” she asked, faking concern to apparently Veko’s ears only. “But darling, you just got here!”

Veko’s mind went totally blank. “Hello?” he said dumbly.

The alderman’s eyes narrowed. “What?” he hissed. “Eloise, this man—“

“Is my beloved,” Eloise cut in. The alderman’s mouth shut with an audible click. “Last year, don’t you remember? The Witcher that saved my father from those drowners!”

Veko continued to stare at her.

“But—“ the alderman stammered.

“Now what’s with all this shouting over here?” Eloise barreled on.

“I sent this Witcher here to kill the kikimora roamin’ about,” the alderman said.

Eloise gave Veko’s arm a little shake to snap him back into the conversation. “I, uh,” he stammered. “It wasn’t just one. There was a whole nest.”

Eloise clapped a hand over her mouth and gasped dramatically. “A whole nest!” she exclaimed, drawing the attention of the townspeople nearby. “My goodness! I’m so glad it’s been taken care of! Oh, Lennart, I don’t know what we would have done had a whole nest of those beasts descended upon the town!”

People were starting to whisper. The alderman—Lennart’s heart rate sped up. “Oh, well yes, I, eh, was good indeed.” He looked like he was trying to both glare at Veko and keep the shock of Eloise’s outburst off his face at the same time—and failing.

Eloise finally let go of Veko and took the alderman’s hands. “Do you need help with the coin?” she asked innocently. “For the additional kikimora? I know things have been difficult since Nora left—“

“I can handle it!” Lennart exclaimed, eyes darting around at the growing mass of people who’d come to hear about the monsters. The alderman patted Eloise’s hands and laughed nervously. “I mean, that’s alright dear! I-I’ve plenty of coin for the Witcher here! Let me—I’ll go get it.”

Lennart raced back into his house and the crowd of people began to disperse, clearly boring of the now dwindling conversation. Veko was still not sure what the fuck just happened. But before he could ask, the alderman burst back outside and practically threw a pretty hefty sack of coin into Veko’s hands.

“Splendid!” Eloise exclaimed, and then turned to Veko one more. “Shall we go, darling?”

Veko nodded, letting himself be led away, once again, by this bizarre woman. But just before Lennart went back inside, Veko turned to him, held up the bag of coin, and winked. Lennart turned an ugly red and slammed the door behind him.

“Fucking weaselly prick,” Eloise hissed. Veko guffawed.

“Holy shit,” he said. “Where did you even come from? How did you find me? What—what the hell was that?!”

Eloise held up a hand and ticked answers off her fingers. “I was in town putting an order for paints in, saw your horse tied to a tree near the edge of town, and Lennart is a right prick but easy to exploit because of it. His wife Nora left a few weeks ago with some adventurer who came through town. She knew he’d been trying to bed any girl in sight and rightfully left.”

Veko pocketed the bag of coin. “Well I’m not going to complain,” he said.

Eloise tucked her hand into the crook of his arm again. “Are you planning on staying?” she asked. “Papa says it’s supposed to rain; he can feel it in his knees, he says.”

Veko started itching at his burns. “I, uh—“

“Right, coming with me then.”

Veko laughed again and Eloise guide the way.

——————————————————

For having apparently acquired Eloise and her home, this was the first time Veko had actually been inside. It was cozy, the walls painted a pale pink and yellow. The kitchen was warm and smelled amazing, Eloise having apparently left something cooking while she’d been out.

Peering into the next room, the apparent main room of the house, Veko found bottles of paints and an assortment of brushes set up at an easel against the far window (splattered in paint); blank canvases were piled behind it. But actually giving the room a look-around, his attention was immediately drawn to the walls lined floor to ceiling with the most beautiful paintings Veko had ever seen.

Landscapes of what Veko recognized as the local stream and the goat paddock out back, faces he didn’t recognize but could have started up a conversation with him with how real they looked, random assortments of everyday items put together to make some interesting structure—there was art everywhere.

Veko didn’t realize he was gaping until he heard Eloise chuckle. “Like what you see?” she asked.

“They’re amazing,” Veko replied, reaching towards a painting of a young boy.

“Don’t touch!” Eloise snapped; Veko jumped. “Sorry, sorry, they’re just—when they dry the colors fade of you touch them.”

“Sorry,” Veko said, shoving his hand into his pocket.

Eloise shook her head. “It’s always been a dream of mine to be a famous painter. Sometimes I get commissions or sell some in Oxenfurt. There’s a man who comes by to take them to market every now and then. Anyway, apparently my father went to bed early,” she said. “Stew?” Eloise chuckled. “I can paint a delicious meal but actually cooking it, eh...”

Now it was Veko’s turn to laugh. “I’d love some, whatever it tastes like,” he said. “And—thank you, for that shit with the alderman.”

Eloise waved him off. “Honestly? Bringing you up has been doing wonders around here,” she said.

As Veko sat down at the table, he remembered: “Did you call me husband?”

“How long ago was that and you’re just realizing that now?”

“In my defense, you came out of nowhere!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be this great warrior with heightened senses?”

Instead of answering, Veko leaned forward and smirked. “You think I’m great?”

Eloise stared at him for a moment before scoffing and shoveling a spoonful of soup into her mouth. “A great pain in my arse,” she said, “and you’ve only been here five minutes.”

“Might I remind you that you’re the one who dragged me here.”

“Yeah, because you looked like a bloody kicked puppy when I asked!”

“Kitten.”

Eloise blinked. “What?”

Veko tapped his medallion. “I’m from the School of the Cat, so I’d be a kitten.”

There was a moment of silence before Eloise let out a ‘PFFFT!’ and burst out laughing. “Did you really just—“

“I can leave right now!” Veko exclaimed, but there was no heat behind it. Eloise’s laugh was loud and hoarse, hardly ladylike or cute, but for some reason Veko liked hearing it. He wanted to hear it again.

Eloise wiped tears from her eyes. “Just eat your stew, Witcher,” she said.

“Veko,” Veko said. “My name is Veko.”

“Veko,” Eloise repeated, like she was getting used to how it sounded. “Nice to officially meet you, husband.”

Veko started scratching his burns. “Oh gods.”

Eloise smacked his hand like she’d done last year. “Stop doing that,” she snapped. “You’re going to make it worse.”

“I’ve had it for fifteen years; I don’t think it’s going to get worse.”

Eloise was quiet. “How—? Never mind.”

“No, it’s ok,” Veko reassured her. “My brother and I got into a fight. Or something. I can’t remember. But it was an accident, either way.”

“Is your brother also a Witcher?”

Veko nodded, having just stuffed his face with stew again. “Yah,” he said, his mouth full. He swallowed. “Identical twins, actually. Though my hair’s longer and he’s a bit bulkier than I am. His name’s Hamra.”

“Veko and Hamra,” Eloise said, “twin Cat Witchers, huh?”

“Yes ma’am,” Veko replied. Over the course of the meal, Veko explained the basics about the Cats and their caravan, how they worked and why they occasionally split up. Eloise, for her part, only asking questions when he’d finished a story and let him talk most of the conversation. Normally, talking is what Veko was used to, but both times he’d been with this woman she’d shocked him into silence. It was nice to be comfortable again.

Night settled quickly and when they finished their respective meals, Eloise took both their bowls to wash. “I’m going to set a cot up for you,” she said over her shoulder.

“What, no bed?” Veko teased.

“Other than my father's bed, there’s only one other and it’s mine,” Eloise replied.

“Not enough room for husband and wife?”

Eloise suddenly turned serious. Without even turning to him she said, “I’ll not bed you, Witcher.”

Veko held his hands up in surrender, even though her back was still turned. “Ok,” he said softly. “Just messing around, sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you, truly.”

Eloise sighed deeply and finally turned to him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just. I don’t want that. From anyone, ever. It’s—it’s hard to explain. Just thinking about... that... makes me... extremely uncomfortable.”

Veko nodded. “I understand,” he said. “I mean, I don’t, but I respect that.”

Eloise smiled. “Thank you,” she said.

“Is that why me being your husband is useful?” Veko asked; Eloise’s heart rate sped up. “I don’t have a problem with that!” he quickly assured her. “It’s just, last year you said something to that effect.”

Eloise looked him in the eye for a moment, maybe trying to assess if he was telling the truth? And then nodded. “Yes.”

“Well, that’s no problem here,” Veko said. “Gods know I only really come through this area once a year. I could swing by to keep up appearances.”

“And I could help you bleed Lennart dry of all his coin.”

Veko smirked. “I like the way you think.”

Eloise smirked back. “I think this is going to be a very successful partnership.”

[brain-deadx0]

Frozen Heart ch4

Chapter one: Do You Wanna Build a Snowman

Chapter two: For The First Time in Forever

Chapter three: Love is...

Chapter four: ... an Open Door

Summary: Buckle up grandkids. This one has feels.

Warnings: arguments, almost injury of a main character, anything else?

Patton had been gone for quite a while now. After about a half hour Logan had started looking for him in the ballroom but he was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t intended to upset Patton. Especially when he seemed to be having so much fun before. The only thing stopping him from searching the rest of the castle was his duty as the new king to speak to the foreign dignitaries and the fact that sooner or later the party would end and he would have his chance to speak to Patton. For better or worse.

“Logan!”

‘Oh thank god.’ Logan thought when he heard Patton’s voice.

“Um, King Logan.” Patton corrected as he came up to Logan, pulling another man around his age by the arm.

“If you’ll please excuse me. I believe Prince Patton needs to speak with me.” Logan told the dignitary. He didn’t wait for a response before walking away and motioning for Patton to follow.

~

If he were being honest, Roman didn’t know much about King Logan. He had prodded Patton a couple of times in hopes of getting an idea, but it seemed to be a touchy subject for the prince.

Roman had only seen the king from a distance so far and it might’ve just been the kings nerves but he seemed a bit… boring? Dull? Overly serious? Roman wasn’t sure.

He had hoped that perhaps the king had just been nervous. After all, ones own coronation was probably pretty nerve wracking. But hours later, at a party no less, the king seemed just as serious as he had all day.

The king led them to a quieter corner or the room and looked between Patton and Roman expectantly.

“Ok so Logan,” Patton began, “this is Prince Roman of the Southern Isles.”

Roman gave a small bow, “Your Majesty.” and the king nodded in acknowledgment.

Patton bounced slightly in place before glancing at Roman and starting,

“So we-“

“-would like-“

“-your blessing-“

“-of-“

“- our marriage!” They said in unison.

Roman watched as the kings face seemed to sharpen.

“Marriage?” He deadpanned.

“Yes!” Patton confirmed.

“Patton, you are not getting married.”

“Well not today obviously. We haven’t worked out all the details and it would take a couple days to plan the ceremony. Obviously there’d be cake, ice cream, cookies and- wait would we live here?” Patton asked.

“Of course!” Roman agreed.

“Patton.”

“Oh we could invite all your brothers to stay with us!”

”Patton.”

“We have plenty of room of course and-“

”Patton!” The King nearly yelled.

That caused the prince to pause in his fantasizing.

“Patton,” the king took in a breath, “I need to speak with you.” He sent a less than friendly glance at Roman, ”Alone.”

Patton looked a bit nervous and Roman sent him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. His Majesty was probably just a bit thrown by the sudden engagement of his brother. That was fine. They could talk and… judging by the kings face, hopefully decide not to send Roman to the gallows.

“Anything you have to say you can say to both of us.” Patton told his brother as he grabbed Romans arm.

Was Patton really this nervous about being alone with his brother?

The king frowned for a moment before schooling his face, “Fine.” He told them, “Patton you can’t marry someone you just met.”

“You can if it’s true love.” Patton’s words made Romans heart flutter a bit. True love…

The king scoffed, “Don’t be foolish. What do you even know about love?”

Patton’s grip on his arm tightened, “More than you apparently. All you do is shut people out.”

“You asked for my blessing and my answer is no. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He told them before turning to leave.

“Your Majesty, if I may-“ Roman began.

”You, may leave.” The King told him.

Well there’s a familiar phrase.

“Logan.” Patton pleaded.

“Patton,” Roman intervened, “perhaps he just needs a moment?”

~

Logan needed a moment. Logan needed several moments if he were being honest. He had spent hours worrying about Patton, who had apparently been galavanting who knows where with this so called “Prince Roman” and thought it was a good idea to get married in that span of time.

Logan already didn’t like him. And while the foreign prince may not have done anything in their short interaction the fact remained that one of them proposed and one of them said yes. He wasn’t sure who did what yet but both sides were idiotic for doing so. And as much as he loved his brother, he could be a bit naive. Unfortunately it seemed he chose someone just as illogical. Or perhaps even someone who was taking advantage of his brother. The first he could forgive but the second would have consequences.

~

Roman did, admittedly, feel a bit bad for taking advantage of Patton.

But it was just so easy and Patton was so sweet and nice and fun. Sure wasn’t exactly a fairytale romance, but right now, Roman could easily picture having a happy life with the Arendellian prince. After all, sometimes true love was made right?

~

Patton watched as Logan walked away. It wasn’t fair. Patton had found someone who actually liked him and wanted to spend time with him. Someone he loved and Logan wouldn’t even listen. He never listened and Patton was tired of talking to doors. So he followed him.

“Logan!”

“Enough Patton. We will discuss this later when we are alone.” he told him without looking back.

“No we are not. I’m not letting you hide behind that stupid door again!” Patton grabbed at his hand but only succeeded in getting his glove. Thankfully it was enough to make Logan stop and turn around.

“Patton, return my glove.”

“Not until you listen to me!”

“Patton, perhaps we should move this conversation elsewhere?” Roman said softly.

“I can’t live like this anymore, Logan. I’m tired of being locked up in an empty castle. You finally have the power to open the gates again and you won’t! You might be happy all by yourself but I’m not!”

Logan just stared at him for a moment, “Then leave.”

Tears filled Patton’s eyes at that and he didn’t think he could take the heartbreak right now. So instead he focused on the anger he’d been repressing since they were children.

“What did I ever do to you?! Why do you hate me so much?!”

“Patton-“ Logan tried.

“No! You are going to listen to me! Why do you keep shutting me out? Shutting the world out?! What could you possibly be so afraid of?!”

“We are not-“

“Yes we are doing this now! Because I know the second you walk out of here you’ll never acknowledge me again!”

“That’s not-!“

“Yes it is! And if you want me out of your life so bad maybe I should leave!”

“ENOUGH!”

Patton barely had time to register what had happened as he was suddenly pulled backwards and away from the spikes of ice that spewed from Logan’s hand. If Roman hadn’t pulled him back when he did…

Logan had a look of horror on his face as he locked eyes with Patton.

“I’m sorry.” He breathed before running away.

“Logan wait!”

~

Logan didn’t think before turning to run. The screams that had occurred when he lost control were still echoing in his mind and Patton’s face was front and center. He almost hurt Patton again.

When he burst through the front doors he was met with cheers. The courtyard was still full of people from earlier in the day.

“There he is.” “Your Majesty.” “Long live King Logan!”

Logan clutched his ungloved hand close as he tried to weave through the crowd.

“Your Majesty?” A woman holding a small child asked, “Are you alright?”

“I-I’m-“ as he backed away he bumped into one of the fountains behind him and grabbed the edge to avoid falling in. But as soon as he touched it the water froze into a menacing ice sculpture and the crowd reacted just as the party goers had.

“There he is!”

Logan looked back towards the castle doors to see the Duchess of Weslton and her guards.

“Stop him!” She ordered.

“No! Please just stay away!” He cried. But as he put his hands up in an attempt to placate them, bursts of ice shot from his hand towards the duchess; causing her to fall. The crowd screamed in terror and Logan barely heard the duchess calling him a monster before turning and fleeing.

This time the crowd parted easily and he was able to make a direct shot to the open gates. Instead of going across the bridge and into town he ran down to the waters edge. When his foot touched the water it turned solid under his feet.

“Logan!” He heard Patton call.

He couldn’t be near Patton in this state. He could hurt him.

Mind made up, Logan ran. The water froze under him as he ran across the fjord. He had to protect Patton. Even if it meant he would never see him again…

~

Patton followed Logan out of the castle and Roman followed Patton.

When they got to the door the Duchess of Weslton was being helped up. The front steps were frozen under their feet and it was snowing… in July.

It wasn’t hard to realize Logan had run out the gates judging by the parted crowd. Patton ran in that direction, “Logan!”

He paused to look around when he got outside and noticed his brother standing by the bank of the fjord. But when Patton ran towards him Logan took off again. He was running across the water.

By the time Patton made it to where Logan had been he was already a good distance away. Patton tried to follow but only two steps in he slipped on the ice. The ice Logan had made. How was this even possible.

“Logan! Stop! Come back!” He called.

“Patton are you alright?” Roman asked as he knelt next to him.

“Logan…” Patton told him as he watched his brother disappear into the far of tree line.

“Look… the fjord.” Roman told him.

Hearing the disbelief in his voice, Patton looked around. The fjord was freezing solid and the snow was falling a bit heavier than before.

“Come on,” Roman told him as he helped him to his feet, “we need to get back to the castle.”

“But Logan…”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, but right now there are a lot of scared and confused people in the castle and none of us are dressed for this cold.” Roman told him.

Patton nodded reluctantly and let Roman lead him back to the castle.

“Did you know…?” Roman asked quietly as they walked back through the gates.

“No…” Patton said. Why didn’t Logan tell him?

~

Roman tentatively wrapped his arm around Patton’s shoulders. He did it lightly so that Patton could pull away, but instead Patton leaned in to him, and Roman tightened his grip.

Roman was honestly a bit overwhelmed and he knew Patton was probably even more so. If Roman hadn’t reacted when he did earlier Patton would’ve been killed by those ice spikes. And now there was a snow storm brewing in the middle of summer and the king had run off into the wilderness.

When they got to the doors the Duchess of Weslton was ranting about a curse.

“He must be stopped! You must go after him!” She ordered her guards.

“What? No!” Patton told her as he rushed over.

The duchess quickly hid behind her guards, “You!” She cried, “is there sorcery in you? Are you a monster as well?!”

“What? No, no. I’m completely ordinary.” He told her, “And my brother is not a monster.”

“He nearly killed me!” The duchess yelled.

“You slipped on ice.” Roman told her.

“His ice!” She glared.

And ok yes that was true.

“It was an accident.” Patton told her, “He was scared. He didn’t mean to do any of this.” He took a breath, “Tonight was my fault. I yelled at him and said some pretty mean things. So I’m gonna fix this. I’m going after him.”

“Yes do.” The duchess readily agreed.

“What?” Roman asked.

“Ready my horse!” Patton instructed to one of the nearby servants.

“Patton wait.” Roman told him, “Its too dangerous.”

“Logan isn’t dangerous.” Roman didn’t fully agree with that but didn’t interrupt, “I’ll bring him back and make this right.”

“Then I’m coming with you.” Roman told him.

“No. I need someone here to look after Arendelle until I return with Logan. Please?”

Roman stared into Patton’s eyes for a moment before sighing, “On my honor.”

He was rewarded with a small smile from Patton.

“Thank you.”

“But before you leave I must insist you at least prepare for the journey.” Roman told him.

Patton looked down at himself for a moment and gave a humorless laugh, “I suppose that would be a good idea.”

~

Patton went back to his room and quickly changed into his winter clothes. It took a bit of digging through his closet before he found his warm clothes and winter cloak. He dug through one of his drawers to find a pair of gloves and paused when he noticed the old black scarf at the bottom. He and Logan used to put it on their snow cat every year.

He had found it again a few years ago after it had apparently been chewed on by something. He had patched the holes with some purple fabric. He grabbed the scarf and wrapped it around his neck.

As he exited the castle Roman met him with his horse -Colton- and a bag.

“I asked the staff to pack you some supplies. There should be enough food in here to last several days. And I made sure they packed matches and firestarters as well.”

Patton smiled, “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” He asked again.

“I’m sure. Arendelle needs a leader right now and I trust you.”

Roman seemed to hesitate for a moment but nodded, “I’ll do my best.”

Patton took his hand, “I know you will.” He told him.

After a moment he mounted his horse, “I leave Prince Roman in charge!” He announced.

“Are you sure you can trust him? I don’t want you getting hurt.” Roman told him worriedly.

Patton sent him a reassuring smile, “He’s my brother. He would never hurt me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

~

Roman watched as Patton rode away. He really hoped Patton knew what he was doing. He wasn’t sure if he could live with himself if the prince got hurt because he didn’t do enough to protect him.

[thefanficdude]

The Winter Months: NOVEMBER, Part 1

TRIGGER WARNING: Depression, suicidal implications and possible eating disorder

There were many differences between Wilbur and Dream.

For one, Wilbur’s village only had one leader that looked over every little detail, but Dream’s city had a leader for various things such as military, rations, and others. So because everyone had the title of leader, Dream himself had the title of… Dream.

In the city, whoever was Dream (the name of the leader position) left behind their name from birth and would further be referred to as Dream, either until death or the possible event that the title is evoked. The reason for this was because the god they worshipped had a similar name and it was an act of praise, sort of to say that no matter who was giving the orders, the ultimate ruler was their god.

Meanwhile, the village didn’t believe in any kind of god or deity figure. They solely depended on themselves to survive, and that was something Dream’s people would never understand.

Except for one.

Ranboo teleported back to the city he called home after the conversation he had with someone from the village. Toby, if Ranboo remembered correctly. He hoped he did. Ranboo had a reputation to forget things very easily, and that was one of the reasons Dream never made him in charge of anything. Ranboo was fine with that, he understood Dream’s reasoning.

Yet even in no position of power, Ranboo needed to talk to Dream like he was. He made his way to Dream’s house that was also used as a gathering place of sorts. It was the tallest building in the city, so it was easy to set apart from the rest. Ranboo stepped through the thin layer of snow on the ground until he got to the door. He knocked.

“Dream?” Ranboo said through the door. “It’s Ranboo.” Nobody answered. He knocked again. “Sir, I met someone while I was in the forest.” About 5 seconds passed.

“Come in,” A smooth voice came from the other side of the door and Ranboo walked in, silently closing the door behind him.

Dream stood where he normally did; at the head of the long table inside. Maps of the area, specifically the village, were scattered about, each one with different coloured marks of ink. Beside Dream on the side of the table was the newcomer. Ranboo couldn’t remember his name, but it started with G. Ever since he came, Dream and him had been inseparable. It was weird, but Ranboo didn’t think about it much more than that.

“Who did you see?” Dream asked.

“Someone from the village,” Ranboo replied. “He had brown hair, probably the same age as me, and-”

“No,” Dream cut him off. “What was his name?”

“Oh,” Ranboo became embarrassed. It was obvious that’s what he should’ve said first instead of a full description. “Toby.” The man beside Dream looked up.

“Toby?” He asked. Ranboo nodded. Dream looked at him.

“Do you know who that is, George?” Right, his name is George. Ranboo thought. George nodded.

“Yes, but everyone calls him Tubbo. Only people he feels especially close with call him Toby. I don’t even think his best friend calls him that.” George looked at Ranboo. “He told you to call him Toby?”

“Yeah,” Ranboo confirmed. “But he didn’t really-”

“What did you say to him?” Dream now stared directly at Ranboo.

“Uh,” Ranboo was in slight paralysis by Dream’s gaze. “Nothing much, I just told him I was from here and-”

“Ranboo,” Dream walked towards Ranboo. The few seconds of silence as he made his way felt like years. “Did you tell him our plan?” It was a question, but his voice was monotone the whole way through.

“No, of course not,” He lied. “But I got some info that might be useful to you.”

“Really?” Dream looked over his shoulder to George then back at Ranboo. “What info?”

“Phil is no longer their leader,” Ranboo said. “Wilbur, his son, is. The plan was to kill their leader, but you have the wrong target.” Dream smiled with amusement.

“Wow,” Dream said. “I had no idea.” He went back to the table. “I had no idea… that you could underestimate me so much.”

“What…?”

“Ranboo, there is literally a member of the village standing right beside me,” Dream gestured to George. “You thought I didn’t ask who their leader is?”

“But the letter said you were going to kill their leader.” Ranboo pointed out.

“Did you really think I was going to send them a letter telling them what my plan is?” Dream was still smiling. This was entertaining for him. “No, Ranboo. The target was Phil all along.”

“But what’s the point?” Ranboo asked. “It would be so much easier to fight them if Wilbur died instead of Phil.” Ranboo hated every word he was saying, but it was true, and he needed to know.

“Because if I killed Wilbur,” Dream said. “It would be too easy. After all, games are much more fun on hard mode.”

“So…” Ranboo thought for a moment. “So you’re going to kill Phil… for fun?”

“Yeah,” Dream said. “Is that a problem?” Ranboo took a breath.

“No, sir.” Ranboo turned to make his way out, but Dream stopped him.

“And one more thing,” Dream said. “I’m not ‘going to’ kill Phil. I already have.” Ranboo’s stomach sank.

“You what?”

~~~

Wilbur sat in the forest, leaning against the tree his father was buried under. A sign hung from the trunk. It read Here lies the Winged Legend. Rest in Peace Philza. The day it happened was still so clear to him.

The letter threatened him, Wilbur the leader, so he hid in his house with the letter from Dream in hand. There wasn’t much else to do except read it over and over again. Every once in a while, Wilbur would open the curtains on his window just a little bit to see what was happening with everyone else outside.

Then one time, he opened the curtains and looked into the forest, just in time to see an arrow point upwards. It was aimed at Phil. Before Wilbur could even process what was happening, the arrow flew and landed at it’s target. Phil’s wings stopped moving and he fell from the heavens to the ground. Without even thinking, Wilbur burst out of his house and ran towards the greenhouse, where Phil had fallen.

Wilbur saw Phil and got on his knees as soon as he got there. Wilbur picked him up and cradled him, looking into his open, soulless eyes. Wilbur shook him, yelled, even screamed his name, but he didn’t wake up. Wilbur checked to see if he was breathing. Nothing. Wilbur checked for a pulse. Nothing.

Wilbur screamed into the world and cried into his father’s chest for the last time.

Five days later, here he was, sitting at Phil’s grave while playing guitar, desperately looking for a familiar tune. He wouldn’t find one for a long time.

“Wilbur?” Tommy emerged from the brush, but Wilbur didn’t look up from his guitar. Tommy sighed. “Goddammit man, I’ve been looking for you for 20 minutes! I thought you died!”

“That wouldn’t be so bad.” Wilbur said.

“What the fuck,” Tommy sat down beside Wilbur. “Dude, don’t say shit like that.” Wilbur stopped playing and looked at Tommy.

“Why? It’s not like he bothered to stick around either.” Wilbur gestured to Phil’s grave. “Now leave me alone.” He continued to play, plucking randomly at the strings, making a melody that didn’t make sense.

Tommy was fed up with this. He stood up and took Wilbur’s guitar right out of his hands. Wilbur tried to grab it back, but Tommy started running back to the village.

“Hey! What the fuck are you doing!?” Wilbur stood and chased him.

“You need to stop feeling bad for yourself!” Tommy yelled back, still running.

“And you can’t just fucking take my shit and leave!” Wilbur yelled.

“Yes I can!” Tommy said. “Cause I’m doing it right now, bitch!”

Tommy and Wilbur made it to the clearing where the village was and Tommy ran into the Community House before Wilbur could catch up. Wilbur ran into the doorway, but stopped when he saw that everyone was there. They were all looking at him, sorrow and worry in their eyes. They were all sitting where they normally did. Niki and Eret beside each other, and Tommy and Tubbo on the opposite of them (though Tommy was standing, still holding his guitar). Phil always sat beside Tubbo, but that side of the bench was empty now. It would never be the same.

“What’s this?” Wilbur asked.

“We’re worried about you, Will.” Niki said. “Ever since Phil passed away, you’ve been at his grave for hours at a time. You even refuse to eat sometimes. It’s not healthy.”

“And we need you,” Tommy said, handing Wilbur his guitar back. He took it with force. Wilbur was annoyed by this, but he knew they were right. He didn’t want to admit that, but then he remembered that’s the reason he never got to apologize to Phil. That guilt would stay with him forever, simply because he didn’t want to be humble. “Wilbur,” Tommy continued. “As much as we need a leader, I need you as a brother more, so don’t fucking sit on your ass all day because of something you never could’ve prevented”

“But that’s the problem,” Wilbur said. “I never saw it coming until I saw the arrow fly out of the forest, and even then I couldn’t stop it.”

“But how would you have stopped it even then?” Eret asked. “Tommy’s right, there’s nothing you or any of us could’ve done.” Wilbur looked at the ground and closed his eyes.

“I can’t tell if it’s easier to process knowing I could’ve stopped it or not…” Wilbur said, silent tears building in his eyes. “I just feel so many emotions and pain, and all I want is for it to go away.” Niki stood up and put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s going to be hard regardless of the situation,” She said. “Every heartbreak, dissapointment, and loss leaves a wound. Of course it hurts now, but eventually, either in a month or years, that wound will heal. It won’t be gone forever though. That wound is going to leave a scar, and everytime you think of him, it’ll hurt a little bit. But that’s your mind’s way of reminding you to not forget about him. If we truly moved on for good, nobody would remember you father and the many wise words he left behind.” Niki put a hand on Wilbur’s cheek to wipe away a tear with her thumb and Wilbur leaned into it. He’d forgotten how nice it was to be assured by physical touch. “The pain you’re feeling, no matter how unbearable, is not bad. It means you’re human, just like the rest of us.”

Wilbur felt something wrap around his torso. He looked down to see Tommy hugging him.

“We all need you, Wilbur.” Tommy said. “Now more than ever. If you give up, then we’re fucked… but there’s still hope. We just need you to stick around for a little longer. Can you do that?” Tommy looked up at Wilbur, and he could never say no to Tommy, especially now. As much as he hated it, everyone was depending on him. Wilbur took a breath and looked at everyone.

“We continue this fight in the name of Phil,” Wilbur said with passion, rage, and determination surging through his veins. “Say ‘Ai’ if you are with me!”

“Ai!” Everyone chorused in joy, and Wilbur smiled for the first time in a while.

“And, I’d like to make an announcement.” Wilbur looked at Tommy. “Tommy,” his gaze shifted to Niki. “And Niki. You are both hereby given the title of my right-hand man and woman!” Everyone cheered, celebrating the return of their leader, their newfound hope, and the promotion of two village members. For the first time since the death of Phil, there was happiness.

“So what’s first, Wilbur?” Tommy asked. Wilbur smiled.

“Well,” Wilbur said. “We need to get as much information about the enemy as we can so that we can make the best attack plan possible.”

“Oh, we got that covered!” Tommy said. Wilbur looked at Tommy confused.

“You do?”

Tommy looked at Tubbo. Tubbo stood.

“Wilbur,” Tubbo said. “We have a spy.”

[midnightprelude]

Take My Hand

Dorian and Rilienus for @14daysdalovers by @oftachancer​ and I (drawing by meeee)! Read here or on AO3.

The fireworks started before the sun had gone down, bursting over the city in rampant showers of color and booming far and wide across the country. They clattered ram shod over the bells that sang from the High Chantry at sunset. 

Listen to the fireworks, Rilienus had said. Listen. He’d never thought to. In fact, he’d gone so far as to invest in exceptional noise cancelling headphones specifically to not listen to them at various points during the year. One watched fireworks. Admired the flashing lights and patterns. Tutted over the smoke that billowed across the sky as a result of the crackling and fizzling chemical reactions. 

Not for the first time in their acquaintance, Dorian caught himself gazing at Rilienus’ profile, realizing he’d forgotten to breathe at some point. What a marvel he was. What a spectacular, intricate mind hiding inside such a wonderfully sensual form. His whole body was built to be kissed and touched, responsive to the smallest stimuli of breezes or touches, but his sensitivity didn’t end there. Light and sound and the texture of food and the scent of varying trees and even the different kinds of cement that were used in different parts of the city. Dorian had never noticed those details; he’d wandered blithely ignorant through a world that was utterly beset with the fantastical elements that fed Rilienus’ psyche day in and out. 

“You’re staring again.”

“Sorry about that,” Dorian laughed, because what else could he do? How could he explain that Rilienus’ existence sometimes brought him to tears? It was such a strange feeling, being so grateful that this one person existed in the world. Never mind that he existed in close proximity, that he liked Dorian and shared all those wonderful parts of himself with him. Just that he was. 

“You can stare at me whenever you like,” Rilienus chuckled, giving him a sly smirk, crossing his ankles below the park bench and uncrossing them again. “How often do they bathe Val Royeaux in booming sound and sparkling color, the sun catching on the waves in the harbor and turning everything caramel?”

“Like this? Let’s see- there’s Empire day. There’s Satinalia. And the night before First Day.” He quirked a brow. “You’ve been to Empire day in Val Royeaux before, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but they’re always a little different,” Rilienus nudged him with his shoulder. “Last year everything was more silver and the year before that wasn’t nearly percussive enough.” He stretched his arms over his head, sighing. “This one is nice. The colors over the water match the sounds and the weather. A more thorough harmony.”

Gods, what must it be like to look out on the world with those eyes and hear it with his gentle, edible ears? “Yes. This one is nice.” Dorian leaned back, peering up at the sky. “The caramel is nice.”

“It matches you, too,” Rilienus added, almost too quietly for him to hear. “Gilded light at dawn and before dusk.”

Like breathing champagne. Like licking the bowl clean after Rilienus had made his spiced pudding. Dorian flexed his hands together, his heart pounding in time to the bursting displays above them. Percussive. He took a breath. “Should we open the wine? Do you think anything can really compare to those jewels we had at the cookout?”

“Kaffas, I hope so,” Rilienus laughed, reaching into his bag to pull out the bottle and a corkscrew. “It’s not at the right temperature, but at least we have proper glasses.” He passed Dorian a glass and peeled off the top of the label from the bottle. “It’s though they were trying to mock us. Do they think the faculty wouldn’t notice?”

“Well,” Dorian considered. “There are those who come prepared. Hennessy in World Religions always comes to these things with a snifter in a velvet bag. But he also wears housecoats in the daylight, so…” He shrugged. “I understand it. It’s less work for the organizers. And they only just finally agreed to get recyclable cups.” He chuckled. “It does make you feel rather like a drunk, though, drinking cheap facsimiles of wine out of cups meant for playing beer pong-” He jolted as a particularly massive explosion of yellow boomed over their heads. “Is this one percussive enough?”

“Absolutely,” Rilienus grinned sharply, dragging the cork from the bottle with a soft pop. “A nice range. Set your teeth on edge. A visceral experience.” He poured a sip of wine in Dorian’s glass. “Is the vintage to your liking, my dear sir?”

Dorian tilted the glass, lifting it to watch the fireworks sizzle through the liquid. He sniffed. He sipped. He couldn’t have said, if pressed, what the scent was, nor the particular notes, nor whether it was objectively a particularly eventful wine. He could have described in detail the way Rilienus’ eyes crinkled in amusement and the way his lips curved just so - from smile to smirk to sideways sweetness like the setting sun. “Delectable,” he murmured, meaning it, and held his glass out for more. “Perfectly uncarbonated. Thank you. I hope you’ll find it pleasing as well.”

“What a relief,” Rilienus hummed, splashing more wine into Dorian’s glass before filling his own, sipping and sighing. “Ah, yes. All is once again as it should be.”

“It is.” Dorian tapped his glass to Rilienus’ lightly. “Good wine and good company.” He took a deep breath, letting his second sip linger on his tongue. “‘Drink to me only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with mine; or leave a kiss but in the cup, and I’ll not look for wine.’”

Rilienus exhaled softly beside him, low and shaky. “I haven’t heard that one before. It’s-“ His eyes glittered with the reflection of exploding, sparkling stars. “Apt. I like it. It’s-“ He hummed a little tune, joyful, but with a hint of longing. “It’s right, too.”

“Is it?” Dorian ducked his head, grinning foolishly. “I was afraid it might be too on the nose.”

“Sometimes on the nose suits quite well,” Rilienus chuckled, sipping from his glass. His fingers tapped out a rhythm on the seat of the bench between them. “I can say it now: I’m officially glad I joined you this afternoon. I’m not certain how you managed to make such an event palatable, let alone somewhat enjoyable.”

“Ah.” Dorian could feel his joy in his toes. “Hypnotism and drugs, mostly.”

“Is that it?” Rilienus lifted a brow. “You’ve drugged me? Hypnotized me to feel delight at the sound of your voice?”

At the sound of his voice- The warmth rushed up from his toes to vibrate through his chest at the next collection of fireworks. “Reciprocal hypnotism. Very tricky.”

“Reciprocal?” Rilienus tutted. “No, no. I worked very hard to make you delight in me. Have you already forgotten this morning?” He turned, smirking. “Will you need a reminder when we return to walls and ceilings?”

“This morning,” he hummed, hiding his grin behind his glass. “This morning. Nnn…. no. Not ringing any bells. All I remember is a kaleidoscope of light and sound and percussion… Perhaps the fireworks began early.”

“That they did,” Rilienus snorted. There were people about, but it was too dark to make out their features, save for the quick flashes of light that illuminated them all briefly before fading again. A little hilltop in the park full of benches, families and couples, but they were easy to forget with Rilienus beside him. “Alright, then, it seems we need a repeat in order to leave a more lasting impression.”

“It seems we do.” Dorian shut his eyes, listening to the sounds of the booms in the distance, the cracks and fizzles, the oohs and aahs from others, all eyes on a sky full of wonders. He dropped his fingers towards the tapping on the bench, letting his hand rest in the path of the percussion as he listened to the Orlesian anthem bellow from a barge on the sea. “I’ve never really listened to them before,” he sighed. “Without the lights, they almost sound sad.”

Rilienus’ fingers stopped moving as soon as they contacted Dorian’s. There was a moment of hesitation that dragged on for an eternity, before finally Rilienus exhaled and set his hand on top of Dorian’s, stroking the side of Dorian’s hand with his thumb. “It does sound a bit melancholy, doesn’t it?” His voice was nearly drowned out by the crashing explosions. “The way the echoes fade away… There are some old symphonies that have cannons written into their scores. This is one such, actually, though the fireworks aren’t keeping a very good tempo.”

Dorian blinked rapidly, staring down to where Rilienus touched his fingers. Tempo? Tempo? His heart was racing like a track full of horses. A glancing touch, he’d thought. Something to stem the tide, to fill the space between them. His eyes burned with unshed tears. He looked up, finding eyes that were the color of wondrous poppies in a field of verdant growth. “Ril,” he whispered, helpless. “I love you.”

Rilienus closed his eyes, pressing his lips together, silent among the applause and clatter as the finale began. Exhaled slow, deep, painstaking breaths, but he kept holding Dorian’s hand, feather light touches keeping time to the crash of symbols over the loudspeaker. 

He didn’t open them again until the fireworks stilled, smoke filling the night air, crowds of people shifting, beginning to mill about the gardens of the park, on their way back to their merry little lives. 

Rilienus still held his hand, only the pulse over his fingers, the twitch of his thumb, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest signaling that he was more than a statue carved to sit upon the bench ad infinitum. 

And when the echoes of voices drifted into the evening, dissipated like the lights and smoke, did Rilienus meet his gaze and with the barest of breaths whisper, “I love you, too.”

Dorian smiled, catching a fallen tear from his lips with his tongue, his baited breath returning in a rush that left him light-headed. “They were good this year, I think,” he murmured, hearing his pulse in his voice. “Better than I’ve seen. Definitely better than I’ve heard.”

“The best I’ve had the privilege to enjoy,” Rilienus whispered, squeezing his fingers. “Dorian?”

“Hm?”

Rilienus smiled slightly, his eyes fractal emeralds. “You’ve something on your cheek.”

Dorian barked a laugh. “You’re a menace; do you know that?”

“I do,” Rilienus glanced down at their hands. “And yet you’re still here. Wonder of wonders.”

“We were having a nice confounding, miraculous moment, you realize.”

“Can’t possibly have one of those with your lines marred,” Rilienus hummed. He reached up to brush away the drops that caught in Dorian’s skin, smiling as he poured them each another glass of wine and taking his hand again, the only sounds those of lapping water, distant traffic, and evening songbirds. “I do so appreciate your symmetry. Almost as much as I enjoy being the one to set it askew.”

Dorian sniffed back a renewed set of happy tears, memorizing every angle of his face and the way his eyes caught the smoked starlight. “Am I suitably symmetrical to your tastes?” he asked, sipping from his glass to clear the clog from his throat. 

“I’m not sure there is a single part of you that isn’t to my taste, Dorian,” Rilienus admitted quietly, cradling his wine. “It’s rather mortifying, that realization.”

“Mortifying?” he repeated softly. “I find the experience rather vivifying.”

“Mortifying thing, living,” Rilienus raised his brows. “Being seen. It takes a bit of adjustment.”

Adjustment. Dorian studied him curiously, thinking of the panic attacks that had plagued him well after he’d made his way to Val Royeaux and the stuttering nerves blended with revelation he felt each time he touched Rilienus in even the most innocuous ways in the daylight. And now it was dark and there was the scent of burned revelry in the air and the lap of the sea against the harbor… and Rilienus was holding his hand. Not in sunlight, but moon and starlight, without walls and ceiling to protect them. High diving. Free falling. Dorian carefully turned his hand, tangling their fingers together; palm to palm. “It is,” he agreed quietly. “I’m very glad to be seen by you.”

He felt a subtle shiver go up Rilienus’ arm as he squeezed his hand lightly. “Likewise,” Rilienus breathed, closing his eyes again. “If I’m to be seen by anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”

“Thank you,” Dorian murmured, watching his exhales puff against his scruff. “For allowing me to. For today. For taking my hand.”

“Thank you,” Rilienus stared out over the harbor, the smallest hint of a smile curling his lips, “for helping me realize I could.”

[rune-writes]

I'll Come Visit

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

@zerith-week » Day 2: Promise

Word Count: 2344

Rating: G

Summary: All Zack ever gave Aerith were promises: promises of a date, to see the sky, and to come visit after he returns from Nibelheim.

Chapter 2 of Of Wishes and Promises: Zerith Week 2021

Read on AO3.

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All Zack ever gave Aerith were promises. The first was the promise of a date, the first time he met her when he dropped out of the sky and onto her flowerbed. The second was to show her the sky, because it wasn’t as scary as she thought, and he wanted her to see it. Then he bought her a ribbon and said they should make fun, little promises for when they next met.

“For example, when we meet, you always have to dress in pink.”

Aerith giggled and said that was silly, and it was, but it’d be fun. So she nodded and said okay and wondered what kind of pink dress she had that she could wear.

Then just before he left for Nibelheim, they went to the Sector 6 playground to sell flowers. Operation: Midgar Full of Flowers, Wallet Full of Money seemed to have a good start. The blooms were a big hit. One woman wished she could see them grow all around the slums.

“Yeah, that’s me and Aerith’s dream,” Zack said. “Not just the slums, either. We want to fill the whole of Midgar with flowers!”

Only a dream then, one he hoped would come true once he returned to Midgar, when he could finally take her to the city above and sell flowers under the sky together.

***

Zack sighed at the heavens above as he lay on his back. Thin wisps of cotton-soft clouds drifted past; though, did anyone really know whether clouds were cotton-soft? An age-old imagery that originated from how it looked from the ground, made by people who had too much time on their hands with too little thoughts in their minds.

Zack had too much time on his hands now. With Sephiroth having locked himself in the mansion’s library and still no lead on their investigation, there had been nothing to do but check on the reactor every day. Everything stayed the same. The monsters still slept in their pods, no more reactor malfunctioning, no more signs of Genesis—or any other intruders for that matter.

Cloud would grab any chance he could get to accompany Zack. Probably to escape the town and its people. Probably to be near their ebony-haired guide. He couldn’t blame the guy, and he had no intention to interfere, but sometimes, Zack would look at his stubborn younger friend and wish Cloud would let loose and show them who he really was. Not a SOLDIER, but still a proud member of Shinra’s infantrymen. They’d understand.

When the time came to return to town, he let the two kids go on ahead, saying he wanted to explore more of the mountain. Tifa offered to come with him, but Zack refused. It was still light out. If he’d gotten lost, his SOLDIER pride would be at stake.

Zack had expected a chuckle at the very least, but his guide only stared at him and said, “Okay.” Then she looked at the grunt and nodded her head down the mountain path. “Shall we, then?”

Grunt Cloud jerked, and for a fraction of a second, his wild, panicked eyes met Zack’s through his helmet visor. Zack waited until Tifa had turned and walked away before he slapped Cloud on the back and whispered, “You got this.”

“I got this.” A self-reassuring nod; Cloud gripped his rifle tighter before following Tifa down the mountain. They walked with a little distance between them, but never too far apart. Zack watched, a little grin playing across his lips.

He’d set off in another direction then: a greener, more life-abundant direction; a contrast to the barren, jagged mountain he’d left behind. He’d found the clearing shortly after, with trees on one side and a sheer drop on the other. It overlooked the Nibel plains and the small town below with the clear blue sky stretching far into the horizon.

Fragments of a cloud broke away into little dots, collecting in places that, somehow, reminded him of the yellow blossoms he’d find growing under the shades of a dilapidated church. Thoughts of the blossoms led to thoughts of the flower girl, and Zack couldn’t help but draw another long breath.

It’d been a week since he arrived in Nibelheim, longer still since he last saw Aerith. The closest interaction he'd gotten was the phone call mere days after reaching the mountain village. His PHS had rung when he’d been about to go to the mansion, and it had taken him by surprise when her voice came out of the receiver. But he’d been too busy then, so he’d told her that he’d call later.

“No, no, you don’t have to.” There had been a slight drop to her tone.

He'd pressed his lips together. “Okay, then I’ll come visit.”

“I’ll be here.”

Zack hadn't missed the momentary pause or the wistful sigh, hadn't forgotten her downcast eyes when he told her he would leave Midgar for a job. There had been nothing else he could say but: “I’ll see you, I promise.” He could almost see her smile as he hung up, hoping it had been enough until he returned to her side.

The drifting clouds offered a brief respite from the sun's harsh glare. Summer had long since gone and autumn was well on its way, but Zack still felt hot. Hot and restless and sweaty and wishing he was back under the cover of the church, where a ray of pleasant sunlight slanted in through the broken rooftop right onto her flowerbed. He’d doze on her lap, and Aerith would weave a flower crown to put around his head, and when he opened his eyes, he would see the brightest smile he had ever seen.

Zack reached for his PHS in his pocket. He had half a mind to go to his mails before he realized Aerith didn’t have a PHS. She’d borrowed Tseng’s when she called him before. Zack didn't want to call Tseng. The last time he did, the Turk had chuckled and said that he was at work, that he had one of his men watching her and that she was safe. He would, however, send her Zack’s regards the next time he saw her. Zack's mouth twitched at the memory.

What if he called her house? Elmyra probably wouldn't mind. The last time he met her, she had acted like he was already part of the family. It made him smile and miss her homemade stew, miss the warmth of the kitchen and the vibrant colors in her garden, miss that motherly touch.

But as good as the idea sounded, it was still daylight and Aerith was probably not home. He stared at the open mail draft on his PHS screen, then typed in Kunsel's name.

‘What are you doing?’

The reply came shortly after: ‘If you resorted to mail me in the middle of a mission, I can only imagine how bored you must be feeling right now. So let me tell you some good news, friend. I visited that church your Aerith frequented and I gotta say, she is such a lively fella. You have no idea all the little details she’d asked me of you.’

Zack jumped, glaring into his PHS screen as those last few words hammered their way into his head. He dialed Kunsel’s number. Kunsel immediately picked up.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?”

On the other side of the line, Kunsel cackled—a shoulder-shaking, back-bending, stomach-hurting cackle. “Gods, I can’t believe you fell for that one.”

Zack blinked, too mortified to catch up with the joke.

“I’m on a mission, if you remember—or maybe you don’t. Different from the one when you left for Nibelheim. With our Firsts out on a mission on the other side of the Planet, it seems the top brass has decided to have the rest of us—meaning us, Second-Class—take the lead on the remaining jobs. So I’ve been away, again. Far away from your lovely girl. So you have nothing to worry about.”

Another blink. Right.

“How’s the job anyway?”

A short pause, and maybe it was the easy-going tone of his voice that made Zack's tongue loosen up and tell Kunsel about the current state of his investigation, the current state of Sephiroth, the current state of his restlessness. Then at the end of it, Kunsel chuckled.

“Even in the middle of a mission, you still got time to worry about your girl.” Zack heard a scoff, soft and amused. “She’s fine. Aren’t the Turks watching her?”

“They are…” But even knowing that, there was a disquiet in his heart that he couldn’t quite figure where it was coming from.

“Well, if it’s any help at all, I promised to check up on her, didn’t I? Once I get back from my assignment, I’ll see how she is. Does that ease you?”

It did, even if only a little.

“So just focus on your assignment right now and make sure you get your ass back in Midgar. Quick.” Then he added, “You know I have a whole folder of you sneezing out snot, right?”

“Kuns—!”

The line was cut. The last thing Zack heard was his friend's laughter. It still echoed even when Zack had put his PHS down and stared at the screen, when he laid back on the sunny grass and covered his eyes with an arm. Maybe it was a bad idea to have Kunsel check on Aerith. Who knew what the guy would show her? All the embarrassing details of Zack's life! But Kunsel was the only person Zack could trust in SOLDIER right now…

Zack let out another quiet exhale. He lifted his arm. The clouds drifting past looked uncannily like the girl with the brightest smile.

***

He called a little after dusk. Zack was alone in his room; Sephiroth was still not back; Cloud and the other grunt stood watch somewhere. A few moments passed with only the dial tone filling his ears. And then:

“Hello?”

The smile came unbidden. Like a dam about to burst, his lips wavered at the intensity of the emotions overcoming him—overwhelming him.

“Aerith?”

“Zack?” Her surprise was almost palpable. He could imagine her wide-eyed stare as she stood beneath the warm lights of her home. “This is a surprise. You're not busy?”

“Aw, don’t you miss me?”

She giggled, and it was the most beautiful sound in the entire world. “Silly.”

They talked about everything and anything: what she was doing, how her days had been. "Same old, same old," she said. Tending to her flowers, running errands around the slum, then just as she’d headed for the church, the Leaf House kids had crowded around her and asked where Zack was.

Zack chuckled. “And what’d you tell them?”

“That Zack is on a very important job right now, but he’ll be back very soon and give everyone presents.” Her laugh made him smile, and he imagined her sitting next to the pots and vases, swaying her feet and twirling her hair. He closed his eyes, committing it to memory.

“Hey, Aerith.”

“Yeah?”

When he made that promise to visit, Zack had thought they would finish their mission soon and he'd be back by Aerith's side before she knew it. But it had been a week since then, and he was still stuck in a small mountain town with nothing to do but look for missing persons who refused to be found and wait on a stubborn comrade who refused to leave.

“Think I’d have to take a rain check on that promise. I don’t think I can come back soon.”

“Oh.” She paused. “Okay.” Then, because maybe she’d noticed the hesitancy in his voice: “Is there something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing wrong.” He was quick to answer, quick to ease her worry, even as his mind went to the mansion sitting on the town's outskirts, where Sephiroth was still perusing the many thick volumes stored in the basement. The last time Zack had checked on him, he'd been unaware of Zack’s presence. It’d been like talking to a statue, if statues could walk and talk. Ceaseless mutterings; unending strides; then at times, Sephiroth would stop and look up, and Zack would sigh and thought, finally! Because the meal the townspeople had prepared still lay untouched on the table, and all of Zack’s attempts to tell him to rest had flown over his head. But like a man possessed, Sephiroth had only walked past without truly seeing him, then discarded the book in favor of another.

“Zack?”

Zack blinked, then said again, “Nothing’s wrong.” It was less convincing. “Anyway,” he went on, brightening his voice. “Did you really tell the kids I’d bring them presents?”

“Of course,” she said, her voice too chirpy, as though she’d noticed his unease and opted to play along with his act. “Well, you have to give them something , after all their efforts to learn your combat moves. They’re really taking this Protection Squad business seriously, you know.” She giggled, and he chuckled too.

The kids had been hounding him every time he took the trip beneath the plate. What was supposed to be a quality time with Aerith always ended up as sword-fighting lessons with a bunch of children. Not that he minded them. The more time Zack spent with them, the more endearing they all seemed to him.

“Then I’d better get them something really good.” He wondered if the store next door sold souvenirs. He could ask Cloud for advice. Or Tifa. “But don’t tell them yet. It’ll be a surprise.”

He could feel her smile as she said, “Sure thing.” In the distance, he heard Elmyra’s call. Aerith had to hang up. “Do you think we can talk again tomorrow?”

“Of course. I’ll call you. Or you can call me too, if you want.”

“Really? Then maybe I’ll do that.”

Zack’s lips parted into the slightest grin. “I’ll be here.” Another promise. Her goodbye was the last thing he heard before Aerith ended the call.

~ END ~