#dancing fir tree

[greenwitchcrafts]

May 2024 witch guide

Full moon: May 23rd

New moon: May 7th

Sabbats: Beltane-May1st

May Flower Moon

Known as: Bright Moon, Budding Moon, Dyad Moon, Egg Laying Moon, Frog Moon, Hare Moon, Leaf Budding Moon, Merry Moon, Moon of the Shedding Ponies, Planting Moon, Sproutkale, Thrimilcmonath & Winnemanoth

Element: Fire

Zodiac: Taurus & Gemini

Nature spirits: Elves & Faeries

Deities: Aphrodite, Artemis, Bast, Cernunnos, Diana, Frigga, Flora, Horned God, Kali, Maia, Pan, Priapus & Venus

Animals: Cat, leopard & lynx

Birds: Dove, Swallow & Swan

Trees: Hawthorne & rowan

Herbs: Cinnamon, dittany of Crete, Elder, mint, mugwort & thyme

Flowers: Foxglove, lily of the valley & rose

Scents: Rose & sandalwood

Stones: Amber, Apache tear, carnelian, emerald, garnet, malachite, rose quartz, ruby, tourmaline & tsavorite

Colors: Brown, green, orange, pink & yellow

Energy:  Abundance, creative energy, faerie & spirit contact, fertility, intuition, love, marriage, material gains, money, propagation, prosperity, real-estate dealings, relationships & tenacity

May’s Flower Moon name should be no surprise; flowers spring forth across North America in abundance this month!

• “Flower Moon” has been attributed to Algonquin peoples, as confirmed by Christina Ruddy of The Algonquin Way Cultural Centre in Pikwakanagan, Ontario.

May’s Moon was also referred to as the “Month of Flowers” by Jonathan Carver in his 1798 publication, Travels Through the Interior Parts of North America: 1766, 1767, 1768 (pp. 250-252), as a likely Dakota name. Carver stayed with the Naudowessie (Dakota) over a period of time; his expedition covered the Great Lakes region, including the Wisconsin and Minnesota areas.

Beltane

Known as: Beltaine, May day, Roodmas & Cethsamhain

Season: Spring

Symbols: Eggs, faeries, fire, flowers & maypoles

Colors: Blue, dark yellow, green, light pink, orange, red, white yellow & rainbow spectrum

Oils/Incense: Frankincense, lilac, passion flower, rose, tuberose & vanilla

Animals: Bee, cattle, goat & rabbit

Mythical: Faeries

Stones: Bloodstone, emerald, lapis lazuli, orange carnelian, rose quartz & sapphire

Food: Beltane cakes, cherries, dairy foods, farls, green herbal salads, honey, meade, nuts, oat cakes, oats, strawberries & sweets

Herbs/Plants: Almond, ash tree, birch, bramble, cinquefoil, damiana, frankincense, hawthorn, ivy, meadowsweet, mushroom, rosemary, saffron, satyrion root, St.John's wort & woodruff

Flowers: Angelica, bluebell, daisy, hibiscus, honeysuckle, lilac, marigold, primrose, rose, rose hips & yellow cowslips

Trees: Ash, cedar, elder, fir, hawthorn, juniper, linden, mesquite, oak, pine, poplar, rowan & willow

Goddesses: Aphrodite, Areil, Artemis, Cybele, Danu, Diana, Dôn, Eiru, Elen, Eostre, Fand, Flidais, Flora, Freya, Frigga, Maia, Niwalen, Rhea, Rhiannon, Var, Venus & Xochiquetzal

Gods: Baal, Bacchnalia, Balder, Belanos, Belenus, Beli, Beltene, Cernunnos, Cupid, Faunus, Freyr, Grannus, The Green Man, Lares, Lugh, Manawyddan, Odin, Pan, Puck & Taranis

Issues, Intentions & Powers: Agriculture, creativity, fertility, lust, marriage, the otherworld/Underworld, pleasure, psychic ability, purification, sensuality, sex/uality, visions, warmth & youth

Spellwork: Birth, Earth magick, healing, health & pregnancy

Activities:

• Create a daisy chain or floral decorations

• Decorate & dance around a Maypole

• Set up an outdoor altar & leave offerings to faeries

• Prepare a ritual bath with fresh flowers

• Light a bonfire or candles & dance around them

• Set aside time for self care

• Gather flowers & use them to decorate your home or altar

• Prepare a feast to celebrate with friends/family

• Make flower crowns

• Bake bannocks, oat cakes or cookies

• Hang wreaths decorated with ribbons & flowers

• Plant flowers in your garden

• Start a wish book/box/journal

• Go on a walk & gice thanks to nature⁸

• Cast fertility or a bunch spells

• Fill small baskets of flowers & small goodies, then leave them on your friends/neighbors doorstep as a gesture of goodwill & friendship

Beltane is mentioned in the earliest Irish literature and is associated with important events in Irish mythology. Also known as Cétshamhain ('first of summer'), it marked the beginning of summer & was when cattle were driven out to the summer pastures. Rituals were performed to protect cattle, people & crops, and to encourage growth. (Today, Witches who observe the Wheel of the Year celebrate Beltane as the height of Spring.)

Special bonfires were kindled, whose flames, smoke & ashes were deemed to have protective powers. The people and their cattle would walk around or between bonfires & sometimes leap over the flames or embers. All household fires would be doused & then re-lit from the Beltane bonfire.

These gatherings would be accompanied by a feast, and some of the food and drink would be offered to the aos sí. Doors, windows, byres and livestock would be decorated with yellow May flowers, perhaps because they evoked fire.

In parts of Ireland, people would make a May Bush: typically a thorn bush or branch decorated with flowers, ribbons, bright shells & rushlights. Holy wells were also visited, while Beltane dew was thought to bring beauty & maintain youthfulness.

• The aos sí (often referred to as spirits or fairies) were thought to be especially active at Beltane. Like Samhain, which lies directly opposite from Beltane on the Wheel of the Year, this was seen as a time when the veil between worlds was at its thinnest. At Samhain the veil between the worlds of the living & the dead is thin enough that we can connect & convene with our beloved dead, here at Beltane it’s the veil between the human world, and the world of faeries & nature spirits that has grown thin. Offerings would be left at the ancient faerie forts, the wells and in other sacred places in an effort to appease these nature spirits to ensure a successful growing season.

Some believe this is when The Goddess is now the Mother & the God is seen as the Green Man or the wild stag. It celebrates the symbolic union, mating or marriage of the Goddess & God & heralds in the coming summer months. It represents life rather than Samhain on the opposite side of the Wheel of the Year.

Other Celebrations:

• Rosealia- May 23rd

Rosalia or Rosaria was a festival of roses celebrated on various dates, primarily in May, but scattered through mid-July. The observance is sometimes called a rosatio ("rose-adornment") or the dies rosationis, "day of rose-adornment," & could be celebrated also with violets. As a commemoration of the dead, the rosatio developed from the custom of placing flowers at burial sites. It was among the extensive private religious practices by means of which the Romans cared for their dead, reflecting the value placed on tradition (mos maiorum, "the way of the ancestors"), family lineage & memorials ranging from simple inscriptions to grand public works. Several dates on the Roman calendar were set aside as public holidays or memorial days devoted to the dead.

Roses had funerary significance in Greece, but were particularly associated with death & entombment among the Romans. In Greece, roses appear on funerary steles  & in epitaphs most often of girls. Flowers were traditional symbols of rejuvenation, rebirth &memory, with the red & purple of roses & violets felt to evoke the color of blood as a form of propitiation

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

Wikipedia

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Encyclopedia britannica

Llewellyn 2024 magical almanac Practical magic for everyday living

[itsphoenix0724]

All Things Vile (Eris x Reader)

Summary: A recon mission to the Autumn Court gets more heated than you intended. They say Autumn males fuck like they have fire in their veins-you guess you're about to find out.

Warnings: ROUGH SMUT (this is pure filth and I'm not sorry), kind of dark, oral (m!receiving) choking, bondage

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote for him, been a while since I wrote in general since I'm adjusting back into my school life. Chapter 3 of MMOTI is drafted and will hopefully be released soon! But anyway here's a smutty Eris fic for all of you <3

The Autumn Court was ablaze in moonlit revelry. The scent of spiced cider and ale consumed the grove along with the smell of the blazing campfire. Fog weaved in and out of the shadow-drenched woods, urging the partygoers to follow its trail into the darkness. You could make out bodies against trees, males and females losing themselves in one another, as you jumped silently along the oak’s branches. It was a simple mission; Get in and get out, that’s what Rhys had said, and that’s what you fully intended on doing. Cloaked in darkness, mask pulled up to hide everything but your eyes, you found your target. 

A drunken blush stained his pale cheeks, and the blood-red silk shirt he wore was unbuttoned so obscenely low you could see the dappling of freckles along his chest in the firelight. His auburn hair was unruly; the waves held down only by the circlet of gold leaves that marked him as the firstborn son of Autumn. His lips were stained from the wine he was sipping and his eyes had taken on a seductive half-lid as he somehow fixed his burning gaze straight onto you. 

Fuck, Rhys was going to kill you. 

Eris stood from his chair in one smooth motion, prowling towards your spot hidden in the woods like a mountain cat, amber eyes burning. You jump down from your tree, weaving through the branches like smoke to try to lose the lordling who’s hot on your tail. Nothing but the sound of your labored breathing and the sounds of footfalls echo through the dark wood. You just need to get to the border, Eris won’t have the gall to cross after you. You can see the green grass of Spring, the pastel pink of the cherry blossoms grotesquely clashing with the russet hues of the forest that currently surrounds you.

You can almost smell the sickly sweet air when a hand encircles your wrist like a hot brand.

The world tips and falls, the grass slipping out from under your feet as you’re dropped into a room, landing on all fours against a hardwood floor. Bands of fire wrap around your wrists and ankles, pinning you to the ground, not burning but holding you there. The tell-tale wave of nausea that means you’ve been winnowed somewhere quickly overwhelms you as you try not to heave onto the plush burgundy rug infront of you.

Eris has taken you to his room at Fir Hall, his private estate away from his life wrapped in court politics, you’re familiar with the home after many spy missions here. Your eyes fix on the Autumn Prince with a burning ferocity, and he does nothing but glare back down at you from where he looms above you.

“Well, well what has fallen into my trap,” He fixes you with a wolfish smile as he pulls down your mask, and your lips peel back into a snarl. “Hello Sweetheart,” he purrs as he tucks a loose hair behind your ears. “I’ve missed you, it’s very nice to see you again.” He tries to run a thumb over your bottom lip, but you snap your teeth in his direction like a feral animal and he wisely pulls his hand away. 

“Bite me,” you growl out as Eris crouches down until he’s at eye level with you. A hound cornering a wild fox, it seemed the hunter had won tonight as he lets out a laugh that leaves a burning caress down your spine. 

“Oh, I intend to.” He promises, stroking his hand along the back of your hair, pulling out the hair tie, and letting it fall around your face. “Now will you mind your manners?” He raises a copper brow, eyes dancing with amusement. The bond buried deep in your chest tries to wiggle free of its restraints, begging you to let it play with the other half of your soul. 

“Never,” you vow to him even as the mischief in his eyes turns to longing. This is torture denying yourself of him. 

But how could you not? 

Beron is still High Lord, if you were to tie yourself to him you would have to abide by his rules. You would rather claw your own eyes out. And if your family ever found out, if Mor ever found out, the shame and guilt would burn more than the roaring fire in the hearth. 

So you have this, you take every mission you can to Autumn and collect all the broken pieces and scraps that you can get. This is what you will allow yourself.

“I thought that would be the case,” Eris gets up and languidly strolls away from you, plucking the bottle of bourbon from the cabinet and pouring himself a drink. You watch with adept interest as his ring-clad fingers tighten around the crystalline glass, he strolls over to his bookshelf and plucks a well-loved novel off the dark shelf. 

Then the bastard settles himself into one of the plush armchairs and starts to fucking read. He ignores you as though you’re nothing more than a potted plant in the corner, he doesn’t even so much as glance at you, fully enraptured in his novel. A few minutes pass when you clear your throat. Eris deigns to look bored as he lazily turns his head toward you. 

“Yes?” He asks, propping the book against one knee and taking another sip of his whiskey. Your eyes track the movement of his throat involuntarily. 

“Aren’t you going to do something?” You push, urging him with your eyes as you lift your head through the curtain of your hair. You hope your gaze communicates everything you cannot bring yourself to voice, fearing your body will refuse to allow you air if you try. 

I love you, please don’t ignore me, I need you, play with me

He chuckles a dark sound and picks up his book again, pointedly flicking a page as the rubies on his hands glint in the firelight. 

“I’m not in the business of playing with unwilling toys,” Eris supplies, purposely staring at the fire instead of you. “Perhaps I should call Rhysand to collect you and tell him I don’t appreciate being spied on. Perhaps, he will never send you back here.” His brows scrunch in frustration but you both know that the threat is empty. It seems he is tired of your games. 

“What do you want?” You barely grind out, still refusing to relent to the signing inside your soul. “Do you want me to beg? Is that it? Princely bastard.” You practically spit, and faster than the blink of an eye Eris is in front of you, fisting your hair in one hand and tilting your chin to meet his smoldering gaze. 

“Are you ashamed of me?” He questions, and you can see the vulnerability dancing in his eyes. You shake your head as the fire binding your wrists recedes and you move into a more comfortable kneeling position, hands now bound in front of you. He soothes his hand along your cheek again as your brows knit together. You thought that the two of you had a kind of understanding. You had no idea where this was coming from. “I tire of this ruse, my love.” If Eris notices the mournful look in your eyes he says nothing. He strokes a warm hand through your hair, admiring your eyes in the firelight. “Why don’t you show me how much you missed me huh?” The wolfish grin is back and you hum your agreement as he runs his thumb along your bottom lip again, pleased at your cooperation as he slides his finger into your mouth. He thrusts it into your mouth and as you teasingly run your tongue over the pad he lets out a moan that shoots straight to your core. 

He undoes the belt at his waist, pulling his cock out with his hand, and your mouth waters at the sheer size of him. 

“I’m going to fuck your mouth now,” he rumbles, pure authority and power radiating off of him. A glimpse at the future ruler he will become one day. You nod your enthusiastic consent as he grips the back of your head and thrusts into your mouth at a merciless pace. Your head empties as he hits the back of your throat, the hand cupping the back of your hair surprisingly gentle compared to the way he was brutalizing your mouth. “That’s a good girl, take me down your throat.” It spills out of his mouth like he can’t even control it as your eyes roll back in your head at his praise. Eris pushes your mouth all the way down to the base of his dick and holds you there for a few seconds as your nose connects with his pelvic bone. He’s relentless as he uses you for his pleasure and you think that he might bruise your vocal cords. 

He spills down your throat as your binds dissolve into nothing, leaving behind a warm tingling sensation where the fire licked at your limbs. 

You swallow what he gave you, opening your mouth in emphasis as whiskey eyes blow wide with lust. You’re drenched at the sight of his cock already stiffening again. He walks to the mountainous bed in front of you, making himself comfortable against the pillows. 

“Come here pet.” He growls fisting his cock in his hand and crooking his fingers with the other. You start to rise to your legs on sore knees, but you freeze when Eris tuts–holding his hand out to stop you. “No. I want you to crawl to me.” The order wraps around you like warm silk, voice sliding against your bones. You lower yourself back down to the floor, humiliation burning hot on your cheeks as you sway your hips in what you hope to be enticing. He stops you quickly and you look up at him from under fluttering lashes. “Strip. Slowly.” Your face burns even hotter and Eris can’t take his eyes off you as you rise, slowly undoing every single buckle on your leathers and letting them fall to the floor, leaving you entirely exposed to him before climbing onto the bed. His body is so warm against your skin as he draws your mouth to his, the burning taste of cinnamon whiskey floods your mouth. He dominates you even here, claiming you as his tongue wrestles with yours. The moan that slips out of you comes out scratchy from the abuse of your throat, and in a flash, you’re below him as he grinds his hips into yours. 

“Eris,” you whimper as his cock brushes against your folds. You need him to fill you to the brim, wanting him as close as possible. He shushes you gently as he bites at your pulse point, the only goal in his mind is to claim as he sucks dark marks into your neck. 

You’ll surely be wearing only turtle necks for a few weeks after this. 

His warm hands skate down your body, pulling and prodding at your sensitive nipples, letting out a dark chuckle as you whine at his ministrations. Eris mocks your moans as he rubs a finger at your center, rolling the sensitive bundle of nerves between his fingers. Finally, he slips a finger inside of you rubbing at the spot that makes you see stars. He knows exactly where to touch to get you to dissolve, his beautiful mate bending to him like water running through his fingertips. That ring-clad hand curls around your throat, cold metal contrasting with his warm hands, and you keen as the pleasant dizzy feeling takes over your whole body. 

That feeling combined with the addition of another finger in your core sends you hurtling through gold-flecked oblivion.

He pulls his fingers out of you, sucking them into his mouth and moaning as he relishes the taste of you on his tongue. Staring down at your shaking form with smugness in his eyes as he circles the skin of your inner thigh, enjoying the way the muscles quiver under his touch. Eris sinks himself into you, inch by tortuous inch until you can’t tell where your body ends and he begins. He strokes slowly and deliberately, bruising you with his intensity as your vision goes white with searing pleasure every time he moves his hips.

You want him to leave his imprint everywhere on your body, that unanswered bond begging you to never leave this bed again. Eris must feel it too, that golden thread wrapping around his heart begging him to keep you, to never let another male so much as look at you. That makes something ugly twist in his chest and he almost snarls at even the thought of another male near you as his instincts take over and he draws your legs over his shoulders to hit an even deeper part inside of you. Your walls are clenching and fluttering around him as his pace turns ravenous, all you can do is try to hold on as your nails scrape jagged lines down his back. Eris scrapes his teeth over your neck, then he moves down to your nipple biting down as you scream his name before giving the other one equal attention. 

“Who do you belong to pet?” He murmurs in your ear in time with a thrust that's so deep your eyes roll back in your head. “Who’s the only one that can make you feel like this?” You can barely give him anything but a whimper as he devastates your body, pinching your clit in a way that elicits a pleasure-soaked sob. “Scream it for me,” he punctuates it with a slap against the apex of your thighs. 

“Yours Eris, I’m all yours!” You scream as you orgasm, tears running down your flushed cheeks, Eris follows soon after you spilling himself deep inside of you.

He pulls out, disappears into the bathroom, and returns with a clean rag to wipe up the mess he made between your thighs. He collapses onto the mattress next to you and pulls you to his chest, warming his hands with his power as he rubs slow circles into the small of your back. You look up at him and he’s taken aback at the vulnerability in your eyes. “Eris I-” you choke, unable to force the words you so desperately want to say past your lips. He shushes you with a kiss against your forehead. 

“I know,” he mutters into your hairline “I know.” You hold him tighter, blinking back tears as you lock the bond back down in its obsidian shackles,“I’ll wait an eternity for you.” It’s the last thing you hear before closing your eyes as you let him soothe you to sleep.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I trust everything went well?” Rhys asks, raising a dark brow at your form where you stand across from his desk. You subconsciously pull the dark turtleneck further up, the deep purple marks burning like a brand. You scrubbed yourself raw as soon as you winnowed yourself to your apartment, and you’re praying to the Mother that Rhys doesn’t even catch a whiff of Eris or the frankly copious amounts of sex. The thought of Eris enjoying it this morning, pressing his nose against the crook of your neck to make sure it really stuck, before crawling his way down your body to settle in between your thighs makes you triple-check that the steel of your mental shields was still in place.

“Nothing to report,” You rasp, voice destroyed after last night's events. The attempts to clear your throat are doing nothing to help you

“Are you alright?” Rhys questions, wringing his hands together on his desk as he shoots a concerned look. 

“Must just be a chill I caught in Autumn, those woods get cold at night.” You supply and he hums his agreement. 

“Well go rest, you’ve earned it. Perhaps you should see Madja for something to soothe your throat.” Rhys says and you nod your agreement, taking the cue for your dismissal. You wait until his office door clicks shut behind you to let out your sigh of relief, thinking of nothing but soft sheets and warm hands. 

You can only hope you get another mission there soon.

[sleepisapriviligethatidonthave]

Fir the MegOp request: TFA Megatron reaction that TFA Optimus is a space bridge repair worker

Finally I found your ask! I spent a century combing through my notifications XD

Aaaaanyways, here it is! Hope you like it ^^

Megatron swung his swords at the Prime, missing by a wire’s breath when the Autobot ducked and returned the attack in kind. It was a familiar song and dance for the warlord by now, though usually their fights were not so… private.

As luck would have it, both of them had answered an energy anomaly in the forest near Detroit. It had been a rather pleasant surprise to find the young Prime all by his lonesome right after locating the Allspark fragment in the middle of a small clearing in said woods.

“Not too shabby, Autobot. A few more millennia and you might stand a chance at defeating me!” he mocked as he kicked his opponent to the ground. It was almost too easy sometimes, but the Prime always pulled through one way or another.

“I have a name!” snapped Optimus as he rolled just out of reach of Megatron’s pede which left a small crater right where he had been a moment ago, “I am Optimus Prime, and you ought to remember that!” he growled and slashed with his axe at the pede, only grazing the thick warframe armour. Megatron couldn’t help but laugh at the feeble attempt to injure him.

It was always fun to see his enemies infuriated at the fact that he didn’t know their names. He did, but one thing he had learned early on in his gladiatorial career was that an unconcentrated opponent was a weak one. That practice of his had helped him all throughout the war and even after that. It wasn’t often that he met an opponent that kept their cool so well in the face of such disrespect.

“Ah, yes, the rank of Prime. The standards for it have fall quite a bit, haven’t they?” he chuckled with a smirk and parried the angry swing aimed at his helm, throwing the Autobot into the air. Megatron watched with a hint of surprise as his foe flipped in the air and landed square on his pedes, ready to resume their fight. “Or maybe not.” he muttered to himself and went in for another attack.

Few survived an encounter with him and lived long enough to tell the tale. Even fewer willingly went against him again, which made fighting the young mech such a delight.

The little Prime never ceased to surprise. He was always so resourceful and selfless – two qualities he had long believed to be extinct when it came to Autobots. He fought rather rigidly, yes, but he knew when to change tactics in order to secure an advantage. That, he could respect, he could use. If only the Prime wasn’t so foolishly loyal to his rusted cause.

Optimus dodged blaster fire with ease as he shot a grappling hook at one of Megatron’s swords, attempting to seize it.

Megatron grabbed the chord and pulled, sending Prime once again flying through the open sky, but this time luck was not on his side. He smashed against a tree, with a loud crack before falling to the ground, heaving.

“You Autobots never learn, do you? You can not defeat me, even the best of you.” he knew that praising him was a contradictive move, but he had earned it.

It came as a surprise to hear the Prime snort and try to stifle a chuckle.

“What’s so funny, Autobot?” the reaction puzzled him. He was about to be offlined and yet here he was, laughing like Megatron had told him the funniest joke in the galaxy.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. It’s just that, if you really think that an academy washout, space bridge technician is ‘one of the best’, then it’s not the Autobots’ standard that has fallen.” snickered Optimus as he looked up at Megatron with a slag eating grin.

The warlord froze in place, his CPU attempting and failing to process the new information.

“What?”

Optimus laughed even harder, wincing when his vents, damaged by the hit he took, expelled a wheezing sound.

Megatron pressed the tip of one of his swords right against the Autobot’s main fuel line, effectively silencing him. “Explain yourself, now.” he growled menacingly.

“What exactly is there to explain? I already told you the truth. I’m not a fully fledged Prime. Officially I’m not even considered a warrior, no one on my team is. We’re space bridge technicians. Our job was to travel around the corners of the galaxy and repair the Autobot space bridge network.”

Megatron looked at the Prime in disbelief, every interaction they had ever had, replaying itself in the warlord’s mind as small, incongruous details about the team of Autobots slotted themselves into place to finally reveal the horrific truth.

They were no warriors, they were civilians who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. That was why the Elite Guard had done next to nothing to help them. To the great Autobot machine they were fodder, disposable.

Disgust and hatred flashed through Megatron’s field, making Optimus flinch minutely when his own tense one came into contact with his.

This changed everything and nothing at the same time which only infuriated Megatron even more. It was dishonourable to fight against someone who could not face you properly in battle, who was not a warrior. It was Descepticon code, something he himself had put into place to prevent unnecessary carnage in the name of keeping Cybertron populated. Overtime, even the worst of the Descepticons had accepted it as law, even he himself had begun to view it as something on which his honour depended.

And here he was tarnishing it in the worst way imaginable.

“You know, if you ask me, I would much rather fight Cons for the rest of my life than go back to the most boring job in the universe.”

Immediately, Megatron’s helm snapped to the location of the voice only to see the bright yellow Autobot speedster sitting on a tree stump, looking at the bots before him while twirling the forgotten Allspark fragment in his servos.

“Personally, I’d rather be a space bridge technician. Bossbot is right, we aren’t warriors, and I’ll be more than happy to go back to doing what I signed up for.” came the voice of the big green Autobot from the other side of the clearing.

“Quit yer whining, will ya? We still need to save Optimus from Buckethead!” barked the team’s medic as he primed his magnets.

“I do not believe Optimus needs our saving.” chimed in the ninja bot who appeared from behind a tree.

Megatron took in all of the newly gathered Autobots, ignoring the last comment. Before, all he saw was a bunch of low-class warriors with lacking training, but now, he saw them for what they really were. It was so obvious in hindsight, he wanted to kick himself for missing it.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Prowl, I really appreciate it.” Megatron snapped his attention back to his original foe, having thought him incapacitated. Clearly, he had miscalculated again, as a spray of foam hit his faceplates, completely blinding him. He tried moving back, only for his pedes to be restrained in Prime’s grappling hook.

Megatron fell backwards with a grunt. As he tried to regain his sight, he could hear the commotion around him.

“Let’s go before he gets back up and hunts us down!” yelled Optimus. His command was met with no complaints and soon enough Megatron found himself alone on the clearing.

He growled and muttered curses as he cut the chord around his pedes. The mission had been a disaster. Of course, he could give chase to the Autobots and try to retrieve the Allspark fragment, but ultimately decided against it.

Once he finally deemed himself presentable, he gave one last glance to the direction in which the Autobot team retreated, sighed, and began the journey back to the Descepticon hideout. He was in no mood to rush back just to deal with his subordinates, so he opted to walk. That way he had some time to mull over the new information he had obtained and formulate a plan…

And think of a way to break the news to his Descepticons without causing a riot.

[my-name-is-apollo]

Apollo Playing The Lute by Briton Riviere

And as Apollo played his enchanting music for Admetus’ flocks, the spotted lynxes came out of the Othrys valley to join them, and so did a pride of fiery-blond lions and the dappled fawn. Moved by the charming music of your lyre, Apollo, they had stepped out from behind the fir trees and with their airy feet, rejoiced in a dance.

- Euripides, Alcestis (trans. George Theodoridis)

[bunnyreaper]

johnny maintains his yearly christmas tradition with you, this time with a twist.

(18+/MNDI, f!reader, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, established relationship, brief mention of reader having a specific hair type. Originally written for @soapsgf as part of the secret santa I hosted, but adapted for tumblr!)

Johnny's enthusiasm for Christmas truly knows no bounds. Coming from a large family, he was surrounded by siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles who all loved the festive season, and it created an impression that lasted a lifetime. By the time he was old enough to get weary of the holiday, deployments reminded him of how special that time of year was.

When deployments became old hat, little nieces and nephews were there to remind him of what it was all about. But now there was an itch inside him.

Last Christmas saw Johnny proposing to you under the sparkling lights of your flat's dinky little Christmas tree—and this year he needed to match the excitement that last year had given both of you.

Luckily, up in a snow-topped cabin in the Highlands, with a real fir tree and private hot tub—John MacTavish has a plan.

The sound of the radio and your gentle humming carry through from the kitchenette, filling Johnny with a warmth inside that not even the roaring fireplace can provide.

Johnny rushes around the living room of the cabin, grabbing the supplies he'd snuck in earlier from his truck—extra candles, blankets, and the red ribbon he has tucked in the back of his jeans.

Even the mere thought of his impending gift has him half-hard as he kneels on the fluffy rug, ready to go as he unzips his jeans, pulls down his boxers, and gets to work tying the ribbon around his rapidly hardening cock.

Johnny calls out for you, hoping his voice carries enough to be heard over the noise. When he doesn't hear you coming, he calls out louder, his voice booming and cheery as it so often is. "Bonnie!"

Finally, he hears you pause the music and set down the dishes in the sink—moments later, you appear around the door, bright-eyed and content with a dish towel still drying off your hands.

"Yes?" You call out, before you finally take in all of Johnny and his state of undress.

Johnny's smile is infectious, just as it always is—but under the sparkling lights it shines extra bright with a swirl of mischief, Christmas spirit, and arousal. "One last gift."

"Johnny..." You laugh, blushing ever so slightly as your hungry stare settles on where Johnny starts to stroke his leaking cock.

"Yearly tradition, c'mon." He smirks, thrusting his hips into the air slightly as if to tempt his love.

"Fuck. Hard already, Johnny." You tease him with ease, having done this sweet song and dance with him before. After all, it was a yearly tradition Johnny all but insisted upon keeping, even the year you'd spent at his parents where he'd fucked you oh so quietly and oh so dirtily in his childhood bedroom.

"Extra excited to give you this gift, doll." He growls, eyes clouding over with lust. "Get over here."

You quickly find your way to your knees, your hand falling to Johnny's velvety, hard dick in an instant as you begins to stroke him lovingly.

Johnny's hand strokes across your curves, embracing your figure before his fingers find their way lower—across silky thighs, with teasing touches as he goes. Each inch he edges up the hem of your dress, the more shivers wrack your body, and arousal flows through your veins.

When Johnny's fingers dip below the waistband of your lacy panties, the thick pads are greeted with your dripping slick. "Wet already?" Johnny teases back.

"Fuck off." You whisper, just before your lips capture his.

Both of your eyes flutter shut as you fall into each other's embrace, hands caressing each other's most intimate parts as your lips intertwine sweetly.

The kiss between you two escalates, lips and teeth growing hungry as your hands move over each other with enthusiasm.

"Merry Christmas, Johnny," you mumble against your fiance's lips, the hand not on his dick coming up to stroke across his stubbled cheek.

Johnny returns the favour, rough palm settling on your soft skin and caressing. "Haven't even given ye the gift yet."

"The gift wasn't your dick?"

"Not quite, lass." He smirks, fingers curling expertly inside you, against your most sensitive spot inside. His lips fall to your neck as he continues to stroke, nibbling at the one point he knows drives you wildest. "Lay back and find out."

The two of you part slowly, exchanging a few more pecks before Johnny helps lay you down. Your locks cascade around your head like a halo as Johnny settles you into the shaggy rug. His hands take the time to rove over your figure, appreciating every inch of your body under the twinkle of the fairy lights and the flicker of the candlelight.

He pushes the skirt of your dress down your thighs delicately, kissing at the sensitive inner flesh before peeling off your panties. His eyes hold yours the entire time in an intense gaze, but especially so when he pauses with his mouth latched onto your skin, sucking a mark into your flesh. Blue eyes burn into yours, bearing his hunger to you.

"I don't think eating me out counts as a Christmas gift either when you do it every time we fuck." You sigh, overcome with the anticipation and pleasure of Johnny's mouth hovering just inches from your exposed folds.

"Tha's no' the gift, doll." He purrs, quickly dipping down to press a kiss to your swollen clit—he smirks when the action draws a wanton moan from you. "Just getting you ready for the real deal."

Johnny spurs into action, pulling away and scrambling to push off his jeans and boxers. He pulls the ribbon from where it's tied at the root of his dick and tosses it at you, delighting when he draws out your giggles. You brush the ribbon off your face, curling it in your fist as Johnny spreads open your legs, setting your feet on his shoulders.

He's quick to line himself up with your wet cunt, swiping the head of his dick through your folds with a hungry grin and delighting in the way your legs quiver.

As he's about to push himself into the tight heat of your pussy, a weakly protesting hand comes to press against his muscled chest—one that speaks to a rationality neither of you really wants to listen to.

"No condom, Johnny."

"Not this time, bonnie." Johnny circles his cock around your entrance, waiting for permission for you both to give in to your more carnal urges. "Tha's your gift, if you want it."

"Johnny... are you serious?" You gasp, a smile spreading across your face, completely unrestrained. You'd talked about it before, yet you were just waiting for Johnny to come around to the idea.

"Dead serious, gonna make ye a ma..." He growls, before sinking into you fully in one thrust, making sure his cock is snug inside and filling you so completely.

"Fuck, Johnny!" You gasp, struggling to catch your breath as Johnny's hips start moving at a brutal pace inside you. All you can do is lie back and take it, watching as the gorgeous wall of muscle that is your fiance hammers his dick deep inside you.

Still, you need to get out your next words.

"Have something... to tell you." Johnny's eyes flicker to yours, yet he remains quiet and focused. "I'm... already pregnant."

For a moment, Johnny stills, eyes going wide before they're overtaken with an even wilder hunger in his gaze. His hips snap harder and deeper than they did before, as he practically turns into a feral beast on top of his you.

"All the more reason to fuck ye full of my cum, eh?" He growls, his voice desperate and strained as he strokes across your stomach where his seed has already taken hold. "Gonna fill you again, make sure it really takes."

Your eyes roll back in your skull, overwhelmed at the idea of being bred all over again by Johnny, this time with purpose.

You two cling to each other desperately, animal instincts driving you together, as you both desperately seek to make sure you're knocked up good and proper.

It isn't long before your cunt is being flooded with rope after rope of Johnny's potent cum—the man himself not pulling out, instead peppering your face with kisses as he keeps your hole plugged up and his load deep inside.

"Merry Christmas, bonnie."

[gloomy0x0phantom]

Nightmare chapter one

ʚ synopsis ɞ You haven't been able to sleep for a while, and Bepo has the solution to your problem. As you develop a friendship with the polar bear, you fail to notice the jealousy of a certain captain.

pairings : Bepo & Fem!Reader / Trafalgar D. Water Law x Fem!Reader

words count : 5.2k

content : fluff, a very tired reader, mention of nightmares.

note : Here's the rewrite of the first chapter of Nigthmare! I hope you like it ♡ I decided to keep the old version up cuz I don't want to lose all the nice comments 😭 A huge thank you to WesNest for being my beta reader!! English is not my first language

Next chapter // Chapter index

In the middle of the ocean, on a small island lost in thick fog, lay the crews of the Straw Hat and Heart Pirates. Once again their paths crossed, much to Trafalgar Law's misfortune and Monkey D. Luffy's delight. Despite having seen each other a few weeks ago, Luffy insisted that this umpteenth encounter should be celebrated with a big feast, a bonfire, and music. The Hearts, equally fond of a good night's drinking, gladly accepted the offer without consulting their captain, who had expressed reservations about the idea. Although Law was hesitant, his crewmates knew he didn't harbor animosity towards the Straw Hats and that he would be unable to resist an evening with them. Why? Well, let's just say they were well aware of their captain's weak spot... a weak spot concealed within the opposing crew.

A cheerful melody of violin fills the night air. Between the beach and the tropical forest, a towering fire illuminates the faces gathered around it. Luffy, Penguin, Shachi, Usopp, Bepo, and Hakugan dance enthusiastically around the flames, waving their arms and reveling in the moment. Even after a hearty meal the guys find the energy to twirl and celebrate. Chopper, his belly full, peacefully dozes in Robin's embrace while she talks with Jean Bart and Jinbe. Brook plays the violin while Franky joins in with an old tune. Nami, Zoro, Uni and Clione are competing to see who can best hold their liquor, with the redhead taking the lead of course. After completing his cooking duties, Sanji approached Ikkaku, expressing that he doesn't have the opportunity to see her often and desires to cherish every moment in her delightful company throughout the evening. Although unimpressed by the blond's flattery, the young woman allowed him to continue to be around her. Leaning against a tree, Law observes the pirates with a bored expression, yet a faint smile betrays his true feelings.  And you? You sit slightly apart from the others, quietly observing the festivities.

The others made efforts to include you in their activities, and you almost succumbed to Usopp's invitation; however, you opted to take it easy instead. Despite your desire to join the dance, you feel too drained to participate. While you find the drinking competition entertaining to watch, your distaste for alcohol prevents you from taking part. Although you enjoy listening to Robin's stories, there's a risk of nodding off while she speaks. Right now, despite your body craving it, sleep is the last thing on your mind.

You're glad to see your friends unwinding and enjoying themselves; everyone needs it. It's a relief that the Sunny has stopped at a deserted island. Since leaving Wano, you've encountered one unpleasant situation after another with pirates who believed they can defeat Luffy. Additionally, you've had to hastily depart from the last three islands as the Navy was covertly lying in wait for you. It feels like the crew's every move is being meticulously tracked. Nami insisted on searching the Sunny in case a camera had been planted on board. Thankfully, nothing was found, but it's clear that every member of the crew is exhausted. Meeting the Hearts provides the much needed distraction to unwind.

You can sense that Law isn't pleased with this coincidence. At least he's smiling. You noticed it when your gaze landed on him. The fire casts such a beautiful glow on his skin. He's dressed in a white tank top that showcases his black tattoos. You're secretly admiring the artwork - well, you think you're being subtle, but you soon realize that Law is watching you. Caught red-handed, you quickly avert your gaze. Despite this, you can still sense his eyes on you, and it's embarrassing.

“Chronicler-san!”

You are surprised when you hear your nickname cheerfully shouted by the Heart navigator. The guys halt their dancing while Brook takes a break to stretch his bones. Bepo, exhausted and needing to catch his breath, settles down next to you. You greet him with a warm smile. The polar bear is someone you appreciate, even though you've never had time to chat for more than a few minutes. It's not as if you've had the opportunity in the past. You're constantly in dangerous situations or caught up in Law and Luffy's plans. Come to think of it, this is probably the first time you've all been together outside of a mission.

"It's a beautiful night!" he says, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He's breathing hard, which is not surprising given his size, but he still takes the trouble to ask if you're okay between breaths.

"I'm fine, and you? Life with your crew isn't too hard?" you reply in a playful tone.

"I could ask you the same question about yours," he replies, laughing. "I'm fine, a little out of breath."

"A little?" you say, raising your eyebrows and smiling, gently teasing him. You've just witnessed him dancing for a solid thirty minutes. It was quite entertaining. It's a good thing everyone was dressed casually; otherwise, you're sure Bepo would have fainted. He might have even ended up in the fire. There's always something wild happening at parties.

Bepo usually chooses to be by his captain's side, so you get the impression that he hasn't come to see you by chance. You're curious about why he's here, but based on what little you know of him, you can tell he's likely searching for the right words. You choose to keep the conversation going.

"How's your journey been since Wano? I hope you haven't run into too much trouble with the new bounties, unlike us."

"We came across a few annoying cases, but Captain is so strong, he wiped them out in a heartbeat!" Bepo gestures animatedly as he speaks with such admirationI. It's cute. "To avoid drawing any attention, we stayed underwater most of the time. Otherwise, the Marines would have chased us too."

"Oh Bepo!" you gasp, and it's his turn to jump. "Would you trade places with me? I'd do anything to live underwater for a while and vanish from the Marines' radar!"

"I don't think the captain would be happy about losing his navigator!" He chuckles, glancing at Law, who once again looks your way, though you remain unaware.

"Don't worry, I've got a plan," you wink at Bepo and motion for him to lean in. As his ear draws near, you whisper, "I'm going to dress up as a polar bear, and you're going to wear a wig. No one will suspect a thing!"

Bepo straightens up with a laugh. "Do you even have any navigation skills?"

"No, but that's a detail!"

You both laugh at this outlandish idea. Pulling off such a plan would be next to impossible, but the thought of wearing a polar bear suit and casually strolling around the Polar Tang brings a smile to your face. You can imagine the amused reactions of the Heart Pirates, except for Law. As for Luffy, you know he'd be thrilled to have Bepo join your crew simply because he's a mink.

"What brought you out of hiding?" You ask. 

“Hm?”

"Why did you surface and come to this island?"

"Oh! Um... Well... It's kind of my fault. I enjoy being on the Polar Tang, but after a while, I start craving some sun and fresh air. My body can't handle the heat of the submarine. Maybe I complained a bit too much to the captain, and he agreed to stop at the next island, which happened to be this one." The navigator scratches the back of his head, embarrassed.

"I'm sure the others wanted some fresh air too. Just look at them!"

The two of you take a moment to observe the Heart Pirates. All you see are smiling faces, including Hakugan's mask. To you, this scene appears ordinary, but for Bepo, it holds significant meaning. They spent months without their captain, wondering if he would come back alive. And when he did, they had to face two emperors, which could have ended badly. Bepo smiles proudly. Their captain is healthy, and everyone is safe. They emerged victorious.

"I was so relieved when I saw the Polar Tang in the distance." you murmur as you continue to look at the others.

"Really?" asks Bepo, curious to know the reason.

"Yeah... I'm tired of all the fighting. We haven't had a break in ages. When I saw the submarine, my body just relaxed. I know you won't harm us. I feel safe with you guys." You glance at Bepo with a wide smile and flushed cheeks. Suddenly, you realize the magnitude of your words. "B-But I know we're not... I mean, we're enemies."

“Right, enemies…”

As if you shared the same brain, your attention shift to Law and then Luffy. Finally, you meet each other's eyes and hold back a laugh. Yeah, enemies. Luffy can't consider Law a real enemy, not after all they've been through. And honestly, you'd like the alliance to be renewed, someday. It may never reach the same level as when Law lived aboard the Thousand Sunny, but having him as an ally is comforting.

"I'm glad you feel this way with us. I feel safe with you too!"

You're taken aback by his declaration, and even more so by the wide grin Bepo offers in return. You don't doubt his sincerity. Your heart races, and your cheeks ache from smiling so much. Then, you hear a small voice in the back of your head saying, "He shouldn't."

You look at the fire, and gradually your smile loses its brightness. Returning to the boat would be a wise choice. The conversation is enjoyable, but you shouldn't continue. You're enemies, despite everyone getting along well. It's only a matter of time before Law betrays Luffy again.

Bepo noticed the sudden shift. “Alright, now would be a good time to intervene,” he thought. But how? It's not for nothing that he decided to approach you. While he was dancing, he noticed that his captain was watching you intently. The subtle frown of his eyebrows meant he saw something wrong with you. And it must have been very important, given the tension in his shoulders and his clenched jaw. As his second mate, it was his duty to find out what was wrong with you, for the sake of his captain's sanity! 

Now that he's close to you, he sees what his captain noticed.

"Are you sure everything's alright? Your dark circles are starting to look like the Captain's, and that's never a good sign," Bepo jokes, trying to lighten the mood with his question.

"It's a bit unsettling, isn't it?" you ask, with a dry laugh. "I don't sleep very well."

"B-because of the attacks?"

You hesitate for a moment. "Partly."

Bepo senses there's something more, but he's uncertain how to encourage you to open up without crossing any lines. Yes, he's eager to assist his captain, but... Bepo genuinely wants to help you. He's always held a fondness for you. He recalls your initial interaction: you were kind and appreciative. His mink instincts don't fool him; he's adept at sensing energies that humans might overlook.

"Captain could prescribe you some sleeping pills," he suggested in a hushed tone.

"I don't want to sleep," you confessed darkly.

Instantly, Bepo understands.

"Nightmares."

You nod in agreement. Bepo has known Law since childhood, and living with someone who suffers from chronic nightmares alters one's perception of sleep. For Law, sleep isn't refreshing. Bepo has seen him push himself to stay awake to the brink, and it's not a pleasant sight. So when you mention that you're reluctant to sleep because of nightmares, the navigator believes he can understand the root of the issue. However, he doesn't plan to pry further with any probing questions.

"As a doctor's assistant, I feel obliged to list all the reasons why sleep is important, but I suppose you already know them all."

You tilt your head slightly and regard him with curiosity. "You help Law during surgery? I had no clue! How long have you been studying medicine?"

"Oh, well, everyone in the crew knows how to assist the captain during surgery! It's crucial knowledge that enables us to handle situations both on and off the submarine. I've been learning for - You've changed the subject."

You look down, embarrassed.

“I did. Sorry…”

"N-no! I'm the one who's sorry!" Bepo attempts to reassure you, his tone gentle. He doesn't want you to think he's mad at you.

"Please, don't be. I'm the one who tried to fool you."

Bepo sighs, concern etched across his features as he observes you. He notices your trembling hands, the dark circles under your eyes... You don't resemble the vibrant young woman he met at Sabaody. Reflecting on it, even during your time in Wano, you seemed burdened by stress, much like everyone else.

"How many hours have you been awake...?"

"About... 60 hours, I think. Actually no, that's not true. I sleep 5 to 15 minutes every few hours, it's never a deep sleep. I wake up as soon as I hear a noise. The adrenaline rush from the fights keeps me going, pushing myself beyond my limits. But I feel strange. My heart feels like it's pounding everywhere, I can't focus on writing, food's lost its appeal, Sanji has saved my ass a few times during fights because I'm not paying full attention, sometimes my vision gets blurry and I see things in the corner of my vision. But otherwise I feel fine."

In one breath, you spill out your words, leaving Bepo staring at you with wide eyes, clearly shocked by your extreme lifestyle. He shouldn't be so surprised; enduring 60 hours without sleep is far from healthy, but for you, it seems, this is just another day in the life.

"Have you discussed it with the others...?"

"They're aware of my nightmares; that's nothing new. But I haven't brought up my current issue. It'd be foolish for Monkey D. Luffy to have a crewmate who can't sleep due to stupid nightmares... I don't want to embarrass him."

"Nightmares are not something to be taken lightly, especially the ones that are-" Bepo stops abruptly, his expression twisting into a grimace. "Uh.. Don't feel ashamed. Capt-," he halts once more, grunting in frustration. His lips clamp shut as he bites down on them, then he resumes, "I know someone incredibly strong and respected who dealt with nightmares. They'll never be seen as weak or a disgrace in my eyes. They're truly remarkable, destined to become the king of—" Bepo abruptly cuts himself off, covering his mouth with his hand. He's let slip more than intended.

The navigator's reaction is cute. It's clear he's referring to Law. You appreciate what he's trying to say. You understand why the Heart Pirates hold the polar bear in such high regard; he truly has a talent for making people feel at ease with his attentive listening and open-mindedness. You can't help but wonder if he also serves as a psychologist on board the submarine; it wouldn't be surprising.

Slowly, you lower your head, resting your elbows on your knees and concealing your face behind your hands, assuming a vulnerable posture. With your back bent and your shoulders trembling, it's a sight that catches Bepo off guard. Panic grips him, and he quickly scans the surroundings, ensuring that no Straw Hat crew member is watching. You're... You're crying. And he's the one to blame! He feels a pang of guilt wash over him. He's replaying what he said to you, he doesn't know what could have provoked such a reaction! He wouldn't dare hurt you on purpose!

Bepo's hands fidget nervously as he mutters a string of "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" His entire focus is on you, but he can sense his captain's frustration looming in the background, only adding to his anxiety. If you were part of his crew, he'd instinctively reach out to hug you, offering comfort and reassurance. But you're not part of his team, and he hesitates, unsure if such a gesture would be appropriate. After all, he doesn't know you well enough to gauge your comfort level with physical contact.

“Can I... hold her? Give her a hug?” Bepo's thoughts race frantically as he considers the consequences. “I've seen her snap a man's neck with one kick—I don't want to die!” But the fear of the Straw Hat discovering her tears fills him with dread. “If they see her crying, they'll know I'm the cause... they'll kill me!” He shudders at the thought of facing the wrath of the redhead. “I don't want to provoke her wrath, she's terrifying!” Panic grips him as he wrestles with his dilemma. “Oh no, what am I doing? WHAT AM I DOING??? I'M SO SORRY!”

Behind your hands, a sound that doesn't resemble crying catches Bepo's attention, halting his panic. He tilts his head, intrigued, and whispers your name. Swiftly, you unveil your face to reveal a broad smile, tears glistening in the corners of your eyes. You don't look sad, on the contrary, you're laughing! Relief floods through the navigator as he releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. For a moment, Bepo had feared the worst—walking the plank and sparking a conflict between Law and Luffy. But now, seeing your smile, he knows everything's alright.

You wipe away your tears of laughter and jest, "What kind of spell have you cast on me, Bepo? I never allow myself to broach this subject with my friends, yet here I am, spilling my heart out to you without a second thought!"

From the look on his face, you realize you've startled him. You let out a soft giggle and gently pat his back. Predictably, Bepo hangs his head and apologizes. Wanting to reassure him, you decide to do what comes naturally to you: offer a hug. You're not sure if he enjoys being cuddled, but he seems like the type who appreciates a good hug. After all, you've witnessed him embrace several members of his crew before.

Since the navigator towers over you by several heads, you have to stand up to reach his neck. Bepo quickly catches on to what you're trying to do and bends over slightly to make it easier for you, allowing you to control the strength of the embrace. As your arms encircle his neck and your face brushes against his fur, you freeze.

"B-Bepo..." you whisper.

The mink senses the tension in your body and quickly pulls away, fearing he's made you uncomfortable. But as he looks at you, he sees anything but discomfort in your expression. You stare at him as if he were your soulmate, as if he were an oasis in the desert, as if he were the most delicious treat in the world!

"Bepo!" you shout, disregarding the volume of your voice entirely. "You're... you're... so..."

"Y-yes?"

"You're so... FLUFFY!!!"

Once again, Bepo relaxes. "Thank you! We polar bear minks are known for having very soft fur," he responds, his tone tinged with pride as he puffs out his chest.

His pride comes to an abrupt halt when he hears you say, "Give me your fur!"

"Huh?! No way!"

You burst out laughing at his reaction.

"You can touch me, if you like. But you can't have my fur!"

"Really?" you say, hopeful.

Bepo nods eagerly, a wide smile spreading across his face, showcasing his beautiful, sharp teeth. Seeing his joy, you can't help but smile too. Driven by a sudden warmth in your chest, you decide to climb onto the polar bear and settle in his lap. It's impossible to wrap your legs around his waist, his stature is impressive, but that doesn't stop you from trying. You can't stop giggling like a child. Your fingers trace down Bepo's arms to his shoulders, and you even muster the courage to touch his round cheeks. It strikes you as surprising that this is the first time you've thought of cuddling him, and you find yourself wishing you'd done it sooner!

Struggling to remain composed, you fight the urge to cling to the navigator and squeeze him like a cuddly stuffed toy. It's not the first time you've had such an impulse. In the past, you nearly suffocated Chopper in your embrace when he donned a cow costume; and poor Karoo fell victim to your accidental feather-plucking. You've always been wary of approaching small animals (and even larger ones) for fear of inadvertently harming them with your overwhelming cute aggression.

You don't want to hurt Bepo, but you want him to know how much his fluffiness messes with your brain. 

"You're so cute and soft! I want to bite you!"

Bepo flinches and lets out a little cry of fear. "Please don't!"

You squeeze him with all your strength and rub your face on his furry chest, releasing a high-pitched squeal of delight. Your statement catches him off guard; while he's accustomed to receiving compliments on his fur, being told that someone wants to bite him for it is a first. Unsure of how to respond verbally, Bepo reacts instinctively, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing his head against yours. The two of you share smiles and giggles, caught up in the moment. He couldn't be more adorable!

You let out another cry of joy, causing heads to turn in your direction. The music abruptly stops, and you feel a pang of regret for disturbing everyone. You hadn't realized you were being so noisy.

Suddenly, rubbery arms wrap around you and Bepo, pulling you both into an even tighter embrace. Luffy's body collides with yours, almost knocking the breath out of you. Like a true monkey, the young man clings to you, laughing gleefully in your ear.

"Oi bear, you are fluffy shishishi!"

As you catch your breath, Penguin, Shachi, Hakugan, Franky, and Brook all join the hug. You're completely crushed under the weight of all the men—and the skeleton—but you don't mind. It's a shower of love that you happily accept!

"Yohoho, your fur is so soft! Oh, but I can't feel it, I have no skin yohohoho!" exclaims Brook. 

You roll your eyes, a gesture Brook can't mimic, at his classic skeleton joke. 

"Bepo is the fluffiest!" declares Penguin.

"Yeah, he's the best mink!" adds Shachi.

The boys return to dancing and singing, leaving you alone with Bepo. His face is flushed with embarrassment, but there's also a hint of happiness in his expression knowing he caused this adorable moment. You're the last one to remain in his arms, cherishing the warmth of the embrace.

You release a long, contented sigh and allow your eyes to drift shut. Gradually, your body begins to relax. You immerse yourself in the sounds around you—the crackling of the fire, Bepo's steady heartbeat, Brook's music, the chatter of voices—and find the atmosphere to be perfect. Feeling a protective hand resting on your back, you take it as confirmation that Bepo doesn't mind your presence on his lap. Whatever worries you had earlier, they slip away from your mind. Normally, you'd muster the strength to snap yourself out of such a relaxed state, perhaps with a sharp slap to the cheeks, but right now, you find yourself unable to resist the pull of fatigue.

Before long, you fall asleep. It feels like being cradled by a giant teddy bear, shielded from the demons of the night. Bepo becomes your protector, kicking away any bad memories and nightmares, ensuring you're safe and sound in his arms. Almost unable to believe it, Bepo watches you sleep, feeling a sense of happiness wash over him. 60 hours awake... If you had continued, you could have slipped into psychosis.

A little further away from the duo, Law sits with his arms crossed and jaw clenched. He attempts to focus on the fire, seeking distraction, but his gaze inevitably returns to you. Your face is nestled against Bepo's chest, mouth slightly parted, hands grasping the bear's fur. A stray lock of your hair appears to tickle your nose; he has the urge to step forward and gently tuck it behind your ear, but refrains. Instead, the captain remains seated against a tree, determined not to retreat back to the submarine.

Of course, Bepo would notice your fatigue; it was obvious. It was the first thing Law noticed when you walked onto the beach.

You stepped off the Thousand Sunny with a radiant smile. You were looking at your feet, a habit he noticed, to avoid falling or running into someone else. Ikkaku took you in her arms, the lucky girl. That's when he saw it. Right there. Your hands, resting on the young woman's back, trembled ever so slightly. Were you that eager to see his crew? No, it couldn't be; when you're excited you tend to hop to your feet, and would have thrown yourself at Ikkaku to cuddle her. His suspicions were confirmed as you stepped back to chat with the brunette—your eyes were heavily bagged. So you were tired. When you're working on the logbook or writing a story, sometimes you get so immersed in your work, you end up pulling an all-nighter. Maybe you've been working a lot the last few days? While plausible, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it.

Law recalls something peculiar about your behavior earlier in the day. You frequently glanced behind you in a manner that appeared paranoid. Moreover, you seemed more on edge, visibly flinching when Clione tapped you on the shoulder and even when Sanji placed a glass down in front of you at dinner. Nami's earlier conversation with Shachi may shed some light on this.

"People are insane for wanting to test Luffy's power! Ever since his new, stupid poster came out, wannabe pirates have been constantly coming at us! One group even had the audacity to attack us during the night! Zoro was pissed. We thought we could rest on the next island, but nope! The Marine was waiting for us. Sanji didn't even have time to buy food; the boys had to fish every day! I'm sick of eating fish! The Marines pulled the same stunt two other times, but at least on the last island we had enough time to roam around for a few hours and stock up. I decided to change course completely, and that's how we ended up here. So if you attack us, I swear, I'll electrocute you all."

Your nervousness could be attributed to the constant presence of enemies. Yeah, that's likely it. Tonight no one's going to attack you—Law's going to ensure that.

In the ongoing competition, Nami and Zoro are the final contenders. The swordsman eyes the opportunity to pocket some money, and he's adamant about seizing it. Though he's never emerged victorious before, tonight might just be his chance. Meanwhile, Nami has no plans of letting him walk away with the prize without a challenge, but she enjoys seeing him give it his all until he eventually succumbs to sleep.

But, Nami suddenly stops drinking, leaving a glass half-full.

"What? Now you're going to give up? I knew you were going to lose," says Clione, clearly intoxicated.

The redhead doesn't seem to hear; she's bewildered by what she sees across the fire. Has she indulged in too much alcohol, leading to hallucinations, or is it actually you sleeping? Doubtful of her own condition to discern reality, she slaps Zoro's shoulder and gestures towards you. Gradually, the swordsman follows her gesture and frowns in confusion.

"Am I crazy or...?"

"You are crazy, but it's real," replies Zoro. He waves his arm to get his captain's attention. "Oi, Luffy."

The young man tilts his head to the side and stops playing with the guys. He follows the navigator's finger and a huge grin spreads across his face when he sees you sleeping in Bepo's arms. Finally!

"The party's over."

Brook and Franky immediately stop playing music, leaving only the sounds of the fire and nature. The Hearts are visibly intrigued by this drastic change of mood. When Luffy says the party's over, something's wrong.

"What's going on?" Ikkaku asks, a worried look on her face.

Robin stands up while keeping the little reindeer in her arms, gently stroking his head.

"The recent events have affected the sleep of the whole crew, but (y/n) is the one suffering the most. We've tried to help her by giving her chamomile tea and exhausting her with training, but it's not working. Bepo, would you be willing to spend the night with her?"

All eyes are on Bepo, who must deliver an answer quickly. He's feeling the pressure of the Straw Hats. Disappointing them is the least of his concerns; the navigator considers that he owes them nothing. The alliance has dissolved in Wano, and there's nothing compelling him to comply with Nico Robin's request, but... The thing, or rather the person, that makes him hesitate is just a few meters away. Bepo doesn't dare turn to his captain, as it might raise doubts, but he can sense a negative energy emanating from his direction.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? Uh... S-she might wake up if I move."

"No problem; you just have to stay in this exact spot and not move a muscle," Nami replies, her arms crossed and a tone of finality in her voice, indicating she's not open to negotiation.

"Okay... B-but she might get sick if we stay outside!"

"Don't worry bro, I'll go get some blankets, no one will get sick." adds Franky with a thumbs-up.

Bepo lowers his gaze to your sleeping face. You look really comfortable... And with everything you've told him, it would be a shame to wake you up.

"Bepo, you have the right to refuse," Robin finally says, sounding sincere.

Did he truly have a choice? Because right now, he feels like murder will be committed if he refuses. Bepo doesn't mind sharing a sleeping space with you; you're not heavy, you smell good and he trusts you. Law is the problem. Bepo isn't the only one harboring this thought; Penguin and Shachi are visibly nervous as well.

"Bepo will stay with her," Law declares before anyone else can continue the conversation, thus putting an end to the negotiation.

"C-captain?" asks Bepo, uncertain and surprised.

"But only for tonight. My navigator is not at your beck and call," Law adds firmly.

"Of course, Torao." agrees Robin with a mysterious smile. "Franky."

"Yes! I'll be right back with the blankets, I'll be suuuuuuuuper quick!"

"SHH! You'll wake her up if you scream!" Sanji warns.

"Sorry! I'll be suuuuper fast!" murmurs Franky without losing his excitement.

"You're the one who's loud, shitty cook."

"What did you say mosshead!?"

"SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!"

"Sorry Nami-san!"

The pirates walk away, their voices ranging from hushed murmurs to boisterous chatter. The Straw Hats aren't good at going unnoticed - they never have been. In contrast, the Heart Pirates are accustomed to lurking in the shadows, making silence second nature to them. Most of them bid Bepo a good night, but Shachi and Penguin restrain themselves from voicing the myriad thoughts swirling in their minds. They know that uttering those thoughts could provoke their captain's wrath. They certainly don't want to risk being swapped for the night or, worse, dismembered. So, they remain silent, merely waving their hands in farewell.

And Law? He uses his power to return to the Polar Tang, without uttering a word.

tag list : smokeprincess24, phsycochan, miloonepiece, stuckinthewrongworld, metonimia-de-bellota, tolkienlovee, norasincubi, theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction, awkwardspontaneity, sleepykittycx, perilous-pasta, shadowserpent4444, songinabottle, fireinyoureye, someobsessionrequired, dummyegg, undermoonlightwalk, latanyalove, rebeccawinters, stormruff, shuujin, elen-alambil, amortentiaz, nemisimp, saybeyonce, corazon-lover, shamrockfish, dark-swedish-suitcase-blog, dionysiachan, stachelrose, btsvtxtenha, thestrawartsofreading, beebeesthings, pottedloam, bluebunny002, ravendgie, nonominchan, bluebreadenthusiast, justone-piece, emmaiscool22

[danikamariewrites]

Can I request a rhysand and Azriel poly relationship with reader rhysriel

Christmas fic pls

A Ring For Solstice

Rhysriel x reader

Warnings: none

You couldn’t sleep. The excitement of Solstice had you wired. Slipping out of bed you lightly kiss both your mates on their foreheads. Putting on your robe you quietly sneak downstairs.

Smiling at the warm light the living room is flooded in as you pace around, taking in all the sparkling decorations. Stopping at the fir tree in the corner you adjust a few ornaments. The tree was a gift from Viv and Kal. It’s a Solstice tradition in the Winter Court to decorate a tree and put the gifts under it.

A shadows dances between branches before snaking up your arm. A soft giggle leaves your lips as your eyes follow the shadow. Turning you see your mates smiling at you. Sleep still evident in their faces. Their soft black hair sticking up in places.

The pair come over to you, guiding you over to the couch. “What are you doing up, little love?” Az asks. You lean into his side as he wraps an around you. “I’m just so excited for tomorrow.” Rhys lets out a breathy laugh, pulling your hand into his lap.

“Would one present now help you sleep?” Your face lit up at the thought of starting the holiday now. You nod enthusiastically. “Ok,” Rhys says softly, kissing your forehead. He gets up, padding across the living room to the tree. With a small wave of his hand a small section of presents becomes visible.

You make an offended sound. “You hid our gifts in plain sight?” “Yes, and I will be changing the spot like I do every year.” He said eyeing you and Azriel like the snoops you are. Rhys’ eyes slightly glaze over, telling you he and Az are talking to each other. You looked at them curiously as small smiles started to pull at the corner of their lips. “What?” You ask, your own smile plastered on your lips.

Azriel slips off the couch to kneel in front of you with Rhys. The High Lord holds the small black velvet box. It had a small red bow on top. You sit up a bit straighter. The anticipation making your heart pound against your ribs. Rhys and Azriel look at each other before he opens the box.

You gasp, covering your mouth with shaking hands. Happy tears line your eyes as you look from the ring to them. “We thought it was time to get rings to symbolize the bond. Az and I have matching silver bands with your name engraved on the inside in your handwriting.”

You let your tears fall at Rhys’ sweet words. Your ring is the perfect combination of them. An oval amethyst for Rhys and a pear shaped sapphire set snug on the silver band. “It’s beautiful,” you whisper. Azriel takes your left hand sliding the ring on your finger. “Happy solstice princess.” He says, kissing your knuckles.

[kwamihitman]

Ever after high thronecoming is such good fiction. Because the weeks leading up to Thronecoming, all the kids are conducting business as usual. going to class, lunch with friends, homework, with the occasional festive excitement of going in for a dress fitting or rehearsing your ballroom dance. And I’m sure there are moments where, as an EAH student, you’re just barely able to distract yourself from how dreadful the reality of the situation is about to be.

But then you hear the word “book” or “choice” out of context and this pit forms in your stomach, and you’re suddenly reminded that in 8 days or whatever, your entire graduating class is going to parade down a field in the middle of the night like some kind of medieval catholic ritual, and crack open a dusty magic book, pick up a quill, and sign away the rest of their lives to be poisoned, hunted, betrayed, or murdered by their classmates, their roommates, their lab partners.

And then suddenly you’re thinking about Rachel from your history class, who is supposed to push a fucking boulder up a hill for the rest of time, or accidentally insult a member of the fae and spend her life as a fir tree. And you’re like. Hold on. Rachel wears lululemon. She drinks ice coffee and has brown hair like a chestnut and has never said a single bad word about anyone ever. She borrowed a blue pen from you a week ago in the middle of class. She’s just Rachel, and she’s supposed to be subject to her mother’s destiny regardless of her own will or wants or dreams or goals? She’s supposed to be complacent?

And you’re thinking about how one day you’ll be old and weathered, rocking back and forth on a porch somewhere watching your grandchildren play, and she’ll still be on some hill pushing a fucking boulder to the top? You’ll be rotting in some grave under a nice kind tombstone and she’ll still be pushing up that goddam boulder! Ever After High dystopian reboot when?

[k-tarotz]

Pick a Pile | Where will your F/s take you on a winter date?

Since it's already December we thought of making our first winter/Christmas pac! You can of course participate in this even if you dont celebrate Christmas, if you want to if course. Choose one or multiple piles that you are drawn to and read about it! Please like, reblog and comment as its highly appreciated, thank you! <3 disclaimer; this is a general reading! these messages may not fit everyone. please take what resonates and leave the rest. Dividers & pictures aren't from us, credits to the right owners!

Kpop readings | updated personal readings | masterlist

Pile 1:

This one is giving the most "home" vibes and

therefore; your date would invite you to their house. They would decorate their house all festively with the most beautiful Christmas decorations they can find, even put up the Christmas tree. Then they would dim the lights, only let the Christmas leds of the Christmas tree on along with other decorations that have the ability to give light. They would make their bed super comfy with blankets, pillows, cute plushies and prepare hot chocolate and cookies. They would snuggle with you on said bed while laying/sitting comfortably with you there. Their arm nicely around you and what else would you be doing than..... watching Christmas movies together?! Watching all of your favorite Christmas movies and maybe even the classic ones like Kevin home alone / alone in New York, elf, the grinch and so on! It would be an incredible cozy and romantic date which would make your connection to each other stronger.

Pile 2:

Your future spouse would take you on a date to a café! But not just some kinda boring or classic one - no, it would be one that has many Christmas decorations, even small Christmas trees on every table. There would play background music, not too loud not too quite, of course it would be mostly Christmas songs. The desserts, cookies,pastries and even the hot chocolate would have Christmas motives on it. It would all look super cute and taste amazing. They would love to spoil you, asking you to ignore the prices of it as it is the season of giving. They would possibly spend hours with you there getting lost in the conversation with you and of course walking you home after it, while snow crunches under your feet. Holding your hand to feel your warmth and also just in case so they can catch you in case you slip slightly. You would have an amazing date that you wouldn't forget. Neither of you would!

Pile 3:

As for this one I feel like your future spouse would invite you over to their house to bake cookies together, if possible multiple different ones. They would enjoy baking together with you, perhaps take a tiny bit of the flour and put it on your cheek - then let out the most sweetest laugh ever. It might turn into a small but nome serious playful fight, which would end up in them pulling you suddenly closer and kissing you. While still baking with you, most likely While the cookies are in the oven, they would suddenly turn on the song "all I want fir Christmas is you" and start dancing to it, actually trying to dance together with you to it. The whole atmosphere would be so warm and lovely, both of you focused on only each other. Of course they would eat the cookies together with you after they are done, feeding you sometimes. They would praise you on it, enjoying their time with you more than anything else in the world.

That's it! Our first Christmas/winter pac ever! Feel free to leave feedback if you want to! Stay safe and take care of yourselves lovelies <3

- Candy

[syoddeye]

the christmas party

ceo!price x reader / smut free / ~2.8k words

A very belated Christmas drabble thing. Definitely not inspired by real life events. 👀 Featuring a fem!Reader x Price, background Ghost x Soap, and Gaz, the incredi-boss. Might fuck around make this a series, we'll see! Maybe I'll clean it up and throw it on AO3, too.

CW: alcohol, substance abuse (mentioned) inappropriate comments from coworkers

You came to expect drama at the company Christmas party. It was as traditional as the optional White Elephant gift exchange, the hired group of carolers, and the ugly sweater competition.

Last year, a 'mystery' baggie of powder and a credit card belonging to the former Head of Sales was found in a bathroom stall. Two years ago, it was the unexpectedly raunchy dancing between an engineer and a project manager you swore hated each other. Three years ago, a division head went home with someone who was definitely not her spouse.

You'd seen a lot in your tenure. The good, the bad, the ugly, the hilariously mortifying.

Coming up on your fifth year with The 141 Group, you were a rarity. Most folks job-hopped. More power to them, no shame in gaining good experience after a year or two to leave for greener pastures. The fact you stuck around labeled you a 'veteran', a cheeky if not sensational label, though there were times you certainly felt like you'd seen war. Acquisitions. Rebrands. Reorgs. Yeesh.

But life at 141 suits you. You are an executive assistant, a good one. It helps that your direct supervisor and the VP of Finance, Kyle Garrick, a fellow 'vet', was an incredible boss. He lets you work from when you need to, doesn't micromanage, and treats you like a person, unlike other execs. He had faith in your ability to manage his calendar, prep materials, book travel - in short, you organized his work life. In return, whenever some new hire got too fresh with you, all it took was one teensy mention in a morning meeting, and by lunch, the offending party had only apologies for you. Most importantly, though, the job nets enough money to make rent and let you pursue your hobbies.

With years of Christmas parties under your belt, you were looking forward to tonight's low-grade yet cataclysmic event. Pre-gaming and primping at a fellow assistant's house, Jordan, you clasp the silver holly leaf pendant around your neck where it lies just above your modest cleavage. The dress code was simply 'Christmas Color', another tradition. Formal attire was expected, if not an unsaid requirement, which meant slipping into a gorgeous dark green dress you spied weeks ago in a boutique window. You thank yourself for earning that last pay bump to afford it because you look fantastic, in your humble opinion.

Lacing her leather Oxfords, Jordan gives a low whistle when you turn away from the mirror. "Like a big, sexy pine tree."

You smirk. "Thanks. Remind me why we both couldn't wear red tonight?"

"Because of the two of us, red is my color. Do I not look like some kind of holiday vampire?" She asks, standing with a sweeping gesture down at her deep, red velvet suit.  

"More bellboy, but-"

"Rude!"

The two of you lovingly bicker all the way out to the awaiting car. The 141 Group, ever mindful of its image, always reimbursed rideshares for its company parties. Given the amount of liquor that flowed at these events, it wasn't only generous but smart. Like the higher-ups needed a scandal. The car ferries you across town to the ritzy event space at a local art museum. Leaving your coats at the complimentary bag check, you enter the well-underway party.

The events team needs a raise, like yesterday. The sprawling space was completely done up. Several open bars, a champagne wall, a photo op with a to-scale Santa's Sleigh, and dining tables with place settings that probably rival a monarch. Silvery white birch trees enveloped in lights line the walls, with clusters of small fir trees fully decorated dotting the space. The dancefloor was already busy with a DJ fully dressed as Santa.

Four going on five years, and it was still quite the sight.

You gently elbow Jordan. "So. Cheesy themed cocktails first or canapes?" 

"Obviously drinks. I just saw one with an ornament in it!"

~~

Three hours in, it was a dead heat for Most Dramatic Event. Two separate calamities slowly built throughout the night.

At the nexus of the first, Chad from marketing was almost blacked out. After winning the ugly sweater with a true abomination of a sweater (working lights, a mini speaker, and an ungodly amount of sequins), he celebrated. A little hard. He bopped from open bar to open bar as the bartenders cut him off one by one. He was trying to convince a coworker to grab him another Mistletoe Martini, and it was progressively getting louder.

The second was from the rumor mill more than anything. Apparently, a developer named Scott brought the wrong gift for the exchange. As the story went, his wife used the same paper for an identically sized gift, one of a titillating nature, and now he was visibly paranoid that he nabbed the wrong one on the way out the door. The man stalked the pile of gifts as folks drew numbers.

Jordan bet on the first, and you bet on the second. From the corner, you watch, giggling behind a cup of Prancer's Punch.

The sound of your name drew your attention. Kyle, in a charcoal gray suit with a sleek snowflake tie bar and green tie, approaches with a Tiny Tim Collins in hand. Though you waved hello earlier in the night, he spent most of the evening in the company of who you deemed his 'buddies' - Johnny MacTavish, VP of Technology and Jordan's boss, and Simon Riley, the Chief Security Officer. You learned in your first month to leave the trio to it. 

"Having fun, are we?" Kyle grins and turns to observe the twin events. 

"I love this party. Every year, delivers just like Santa," Jordan gleefully said.

"Someone should stop them," You add, knowing nobody would. At least not Kyle.

And as if on cue, the man chuckles. "Not my circus, not my clowns."

The three of you chat, swapping bits of office gossip collected through the night. Not the most appropriate, but not the worst social crime, surely. You're the right amount of tipsy: warm and relaxed but solid.

The wager came up naturally.

"What do you want if you win, my pine tree?"

"Hmm. It's gotta be something outrageous but not a fireable offense. Hmm. Maybe I'll have you sing on a video call, pretend you thought you were on mute or something."

"...That's boring."   

"Do I want to know?" Kyle asks, sipping his drink. 

"We have a bet on who's gonna be this year's drama - Chad or Scott." You explain.

"Maybe I ought to get back…" Your boss said with a laugh. "Better not witness to whatever you two plan." 

"Might be for the best. Night, Kyle," You accept the brief hug from the man, then poke a finger against his chest. "Listen, if I get one DM about work during the holiday, I'm switching your coffee to decaf."

Kyle claps a hand over his heart as if he's been shot. "Monstrous. Fine, have it your way, no work during Christmas…Now, behave yourself, both of you." 

Watching him retreat back to MacTavish and Riley (who look quite cozy - perhaps another piece of gossip?), Jordan nudges you. "If I was into guys, that's who I'd be into."

"You and like fifty other people here," As Kyle's assistant, you're more than his Girl Friday; you're also a professional gatekeeper. You could wallpaper your apartment with the amount of cringy notes you've stopped from reaching his desk. 

"Not your type, then?" 

You whip your head back to Jordan, utterly horrified. "No way. Not that Kyle isn't an absolute dreamboat; he's just not my dreamboat. Plus, at this point, it would be so, so weird."

Jordan laughs. "Y'know, even though we've been work besties for a year, I don't think we've ever discussed this. What is your type? As dudes are not my specialty, I have no clue."

Your type, huh? As if you don't know. Your type's been the same for as long as you can remember. Big and brawny, the kind of guy who could haul you around. Dark hair. Well-groomed, well-dressed, well-endow–You could still make it onto the naughty list. 

Using better and cleaner terms, you relay this information to Jordan. 

"Huh. A man's man. Whodathunk–oh! Oh shit, look who it is!" The other woman pats your arm and gestures with a nod.

Joining Kyle and his buddies, is none other than John Price - CEO of The 141 Group. Fashionably late (very fashionably late), yet another tradition. Adorned in a Santa red suit jacket and a matching red tie, he somehow makes the boring dress code dashing. Flanking him is a pair of bodyguards. He's just in time for the wager to come to a head. 

God, he looks good. 

As Kyle's assistant, you see John fairly regularly. Not that he sees you. No one above a certain pay grade sees assistants. You kind of just blend right on in. Not even Mr. Riley, whom you've been introduced to a dozen times by Kyle himself, recalls your name. When you tag along to meetings to take notes for the boss man, you assume you're on the same level as a lamp or plant. That doesn't mean you haven't ogled John Price before. Kind of hard to not to, what with his commanding presence. You're kind of ogling him right now.

"Wow, you really do have a type," Jordan hums with a shit-eating grin.

"Shut up," You hiss into your drink and look away, just in time to see Chad from marketing lift a gift box-shaped ice sculpture and smash it onto the ground next to one of the open bars with a frustrated yell. The poor bartender and caterers jump back, and the music scratches to a halt. A thick silence fell over the party, impressive for a crowd of over a hundred, and your eyes flick to Mr. Price.

He glares daggers in Chad's direction, then nods at the taller of his bodyguards. Without hesitation, the man crosses the event space toward a petrified, drunk-crying Chad. As the guard hauls him away, your coworker, or former coworker, you assume, bursts into ugly tears and then disappears from sight. But your eyes are still on John, whose gaze turns to the DJ. The music starts again, as does the chatter. 

"Fuck yes," Jordan giddily whispers. 

"Well, shit."

"You know what this means, don't you?"

"...Unfortunately, yes. Yes, I do," You sigh and down the rest of your drink. "Before you swing the axe, let me grab another punch."

"Hurry back, I've got my thinking cap on," Jordan impishly smirks. 

With a groan, you make your way to the nearest open bar. One far from Chad's little tantrum. Most folks are on the dance floor at this hour, leaving this particular bar quiet. Waiting in line behind other tipsy coworkers, a clearing throat behind you grabs your attention. 

"D'you have a recommendation?" A low, gravelly voice from all your best dreams asks. 

You turn, and the sweet Hallmark-worthy image that blossomed in your mind in the last two seconds promptly morphs into a nightmare. Not a running-for-your-life nightmare, but a you're-the-only-naked-person-in-class nightmare. Laughable, considering the topic of conversation not three minutes ago.

John Price stands tall behind you, arms crossed, testing the fabric of his red suit jacket. He smells like tobacco and something spicy, and his eyes are a shade of blue you hadn't noticed before. You never got this close. They narrow slightly, and you realize you haven't answered him.

"Prancer's Punch." The name sounds cornier aloud.

"Hmm. Brandy or rum?" He sounds unimpressed. Was he unimpressed?

You're quicker to answer this time. Except, you babble. "It's, uh, made with dark rum. It's delicious. I've had a few. The cranberry juice isn't too tart, compliments the sparkling wine and–It's good."

Santa, run me over with your reindeer.

Kyle would be humiliated to have heard all of that. You are humiliated for having said all of that.

To your surprise though, the corner of John's mouth hooks in a smirk, then he chuckles. "How many qualifies as 'a few'?" 

You, apparently committed to acting moronically, answer honestly. "Five." 

It gets you an actual laugh this time. His hand raises up to scritch at his cheek, flashing the band of a watch you're certain is worth more than your life, then juts his chin forward slightly. "You're up, miss."

"Oh, no, Mr. Price, I insist, please-" You start to sidestep to let him up in line, but his hand lowers immediately and stretches out to stop you. He doesn't touch you, but the hair of your arm stands up at the proximity. 

John smiles again, and his head tips toward you. "I insist. Join me, Miss…?"

"Mr. Price?" A voice suddenly interrupts. The taller bodyguard that removed Chad steps up and steals away Mr. Price's attention. "The problem's been dealt with. Regarding…"

You don't hear the rest of the conversation because you hurriedly ask for a punch and bolt back to Jordan. 

And Jordan saw everything. Your heart is racing, and you miss half of her teasing. 

"You made him laugh. Twice. I don't think I've ever seen him smile, let alone laugh." 

"Because I basically admitted to being drunk!"

"Calm down, you're not, you're solid," She reassures. "Besides. You saw that death glare at Chad. If he was upset, I reckon you'd be on the receiving end of one of those."

You groan and take a swig of punch. You hope you've had enough of the good stuff to burn away the memory of your embarrassing rambling. You look back to Jordan to say something and find your friend once again grinning devilishly at you.

"I just thought of what I want for my victory."

Any time, Santa. Put me out of my misery.

"What?"

"So…You know #AskPrice?" 

You know where this is going, and your eyeballs nearly bulge out of their sockets. "Jordan. Please. No. Do not make me post something stupid there." 

#AskPrice was the name of the open channel at work. Anyone across the company could post questions for Mr. Price to answer. More often than not, it was a venue for bootlickers and kiss-asses to rain praises and share bad proposals. Rarely was there a legitimate question or a good idea.

"Darling, of course not. I have something far funnier in mind," She started, and you swore you saw the flames of hell itself in her eyes. "You're going to direct message Mr. Price and ask what he wants for Christmas." 

Jaw, meet floor. "Absolutely not!"

Jordan laughs and hooks an arm around your neck, pulling you in. "Come on. It's harmless. Believe me, I considered making you send a selfie or asking if you're on the naughty or nice list."

"He could fire me!"

"For what? It's just a question! He always says we're welcome to DM him."

To be fair, Mr. Price did say that at the end of every company-wide call or in email announcements. He always harps on 'transparency' and 'open channels of communication', hence #AskPrice. To your knowledge, however, no one ever takes him up on that, at least at your level.

"Jordan…Mercy. Please."

"My sweet pine tree, you lost fair and square," She releases you and pats your shoulder. "If it makes you feel better, I bet he gets a thousand messages a day. The notification will get lost in the noise."

It doesn't take much more prodding and encouragement from Jordan. Your phone ends up in your hand, and you tap into the chat app. Your hand shakes a little when you pull up John's username and open the message dialogue. 

johnprice - invisible Hi, Mr. Price. I was wondering what you want for Christmas?

Short and to the point. Jordan calls it 'boring', but you're already putting your neck on the line for a stupid wager. You're not risking anymore by dressing it up. Bet fulfilled, you press send, quickly turn notifications off, and shove your phone back into your little purse. Jordan rewards you with a squeeze to the shoulder.

"That was terrifying." You whine.

"That was a rush. Come on. Let's dance." 

~~

The next morning, when you're all but molded to your couch and housing takeaway, there's a little ping from your phone. It's the chime of the chat app.

"Kyle, for the love of everything, it's Sunday–"

You nearly drop your phone.

johnprice - invisible Hi, Mr. Price. I was wondering what you want for Christmas? > World peace. > I'd settle for a drink, though.

[bangaveragewhitewine]

maybe it ain't so bad

Bouncer!Eddie Munson x Bartender!Reader (established relationship) - Part of Happy Hours

Your boyfriend doesn’t like Christmas much. Inside his huge soft heart, he carries the memories of Christmases good and bad. After this year, the first Christmas you will actually get to spend together, he might feel a little warmer towards the Holidays…

Word Count 4.4k

Contents / Warnings | 18+ | Eddie & Reader are in their mid/late twenties | Loss of a parent, mention of child neglect and abuse | No explicit sex, nonetheless this is an 18+ fic - making out on the sofa, brief choking mention, Eddie’s love of hickies, being horny and in love, mentions of sex and post-sex softness, ‘slut’ as a term of endearment | No physical descriptions of reader; the image used in the header is not indicative of Bartender Reader in this series

Note I missed our metalhead bouncer boyfriend. I tried and tried not to make this sad or angsty. A quick moment to say thank you for all the love over the last sixish months while I have been writing and sharing my work. It’s a joy, truly! Have a cosy holiday season, sweet angels!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Christmas, 1992 

Eddie Munson didn’t care for Christmas.

A long time had passed since the last Christmas with his Mom, but each year the scabbed-over wound inside him tore and stung and bled just a little more around the Holidays. 

It might be more accurate to say then that Eddie Munson did not let himself care for Christmas. It hurt him to care about it, to remember the good ones and the bad ones with his mother, so he tried to just not care. 

When he closed his eyes, he could still see the coloured string lights wound around the shitty plastic tree, glinting against baubles that had seen better days. He could feel her hands holding his much smaller ones as they danced together to Christmas records, the way she held him safe and steady to place the star on top of the tree. The shininess of it all had pulled his attention from her pilled and threadbare sweaters and the bruise-like bags beneath her eyes. The festive earworms drowned out her tearful phone calls to her parents for some extra cash to make sure Eddie would have a present from Santa beneath the tree this year, and her promises that her no-good-husband would see a penny of it.

As he watches you hanging shiny-and-new decorations on the branches of the small fir in the corner of your shared living room, humming to music only you could hear, he could not help but think of her. It hurt, but the smile that spread across your face when you caught him watching soothed his soul just a little bit.

“Hi, handsome.” 

Your voice and that cosy greeting, the eye-sparkling smile you wear when he comes home to you, feels like stepping into a warm bath every single time. It’s a hug before you even open your arms to him.

You watch him unwind his scarf and shake out his frosted curls once his jacket has been hung on its peg. His boots are slipped off and left to pick up later. 

“How’d it go?”

Eddie stares at the shiny ornament hanging between your fingers on gold thread, lost somewhere in his head or hypnotised by the way it caught the light until you call his name again. 

“Sorry, yeah. Went good. You’ve been busy…”

While Eddie was teaching his last guitar lesson before the Holidays, you had draped the tree with shiny bright lights and made a start on the baubles, hanging them extra-slowly in the hope that your boyfriend might want to help when he got home. Neither of you had work tonight, scheduled off synchronously as a little reward for working Christmas Eve.

“You wanna help?” you ask, a glimmer of hope in your eyes, even as you readied yourself for rejection.

You knew his feelings about Christmas - not just his capitalist hellscape rant that came out whenever someone asked if he was looking forward to the holidays, but you knew the deep emotional pain he carried as another year passed without her. Every year the taste of her cinnamon-spiced sugar cookies and the scent of her perfume, that special Mom Smell, faded more in his memories.

For the first Christmas you would actually spend together as a couple, you wanted it to be special and cosy. You wanted Eddie to feel comfortable and safe, not like a prisoner bound in tinsel as you forced him to watch Miracle on 34th Street or How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (though he did have a soft spot for the green guy). A lazy few days cocooned in your apartment, a nice no-fuss dinner and quality time together. It helped too that you could pick up the Christmas Eve shift in the bar instead of travelling out of the state to sit at home with your families and miss each other, count the days until you hopped back on the plane to O’Hare, and pray that Eddie would drive safe on the icy roads around Hawkins. 

The decorations had been a compromise; Eddie never usually bothered and you liked to spend at least half a day making your home look like a festive explosion. A deal had been made on a small tree with a few lights.

You looked at that tree now, its small and slightly wonky stature had charmed you. Eddie’s staring at it too and you can see a glimpse of the broken boy Eddie once was; it makes your heart hurt. 

“Is it too much? I can stop…” Your voice is quiet.

Eddie shakes his head and plasters on a smile for you that makes your chest ache, before rounding the sofa on socked feet to press a kiss to your head and squeeze you around the middle.

His nose is cold from being outside. That fresh scent of bright winter air clings to him and slowly melts away inside the warm flat you share. 

“Looks great.” Eddie picks up a random red bauble. “Where does this one go?”

“Wherever you want it to go. Just look for the bare spots.” 

You tamp down any fizzing excitement that he’s taking an interest, then feel guilty that you are thinking of him like he’s a wild animal who is easily spooked. 

Eddie brings you back to reality, just like always.

“You gonna move it later when I’m not looking?” he asks, brows raising beneath his bangs as you loop your ornament on a branch. 

That ‘I know you too well for your cute lies, babe’ look he gave you made your cheeks feel warm. It was close to his ‘you’re pushin’ it and you’re being a brat on purpose’ look. That one was fun.

“Only if it’s too close to another red.”

He had seen you and Michelle in full-festive-flight when you decorated the bar every year; every year he braved the cold of the beer cellar or the back alley to stay well out of your way lest he be roped into a squabble on the placement of some stupid garland. 

Not fully convinced, Eddie zeroes in a bare spot (not too near to another red ball) and slips it over the branch with less practiced precision. It’s perfect.

You lean over to smack a kiss on your boyfriend’s cheek. “You’re a natural, Teddy.” 

His arm slips and winds around your waist, squeezing the squish of your hips before he presses his lips to your head. “Do I get a reward?” 

Eddie’s touch and the low timbre of his voice stoke the cosy glow in your body into something more fiery and exciting. His fingers skate along the waistband of your sweatpants, tracing up beneath your (his) hoodie. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

Two can play that game.

“For one little bauble? I’m not that easy, Munson.” 

It pains you to pull yourself away but the warmth and hunger in his gaze feeds your ego and the flame in your gut. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing, I need you to show me.” His fingers reach out to grab the empty space between you. 

Your eyes roll as you crouch to pick up two more baubles.

“Gimme a kiss for every decoration I put on then?” Eddie suggested, “I’ll keep tally.”

A slow smile makes its way onto your face and you nod. “That could be arranged. Don’t half-ass it though, they’ll fall off if they’re not on properly.” Your eyes narrow in warning, “I’ll bite you instead of kiss you if you half-ass it.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, honey,” Eddie smirks and takes both baubles from you - one gold, one pink - and hangs them on his fingers, strategically dangling them right over his nipples. He gets the exact reaction he was hoping for - an eye-roll and that smile you do when you try not to laugh at his silliness. That smile that had made him fall for you.

“And you know my motto - full ass or no ass at all. No half-assin’ around here.” 

Before you can make a smart comment about his flat ass, Eddie takes his time to thoughtfully hang the ornaments in two bare spots and surveys his work with a quietly-pleased hum. You could imagine what he was like as a kid, bargaining for an extra cookie once the tree was decorated, or an extra bedtime story. You didn’t hang any more decorations in favour of watching him work for a few moments, the colourful glow of the lights on his pale skin. 

He catches you staring and softens, winks at you as he picks two more baubles up. One for you, one for him. 

After passing the gold string between your fingers, you press a bonus-kiss to Eddie’s lips before finishing off your first tree together. Neither of you acknowledges with words how special it is, but it’s there. You squabble playfully when you get in each other’s way or when Eddie slaps your ass while he’s reaching for the snowman ornament you have had since you were a kid. 

You had accumulated a little collection of retro Christmas decorations in thrift shops over the years - pretty vintage baubles and kitschy ornaments, a few random or weird tchotchkes. A purchase from last year - a glittery skull wearing a Santa hat - earned instant approval from Eddie and pride of place on the tree. That one had caught your eye a few months after you two had started dating.

When the box of ornaments runs out, you take a step back and pull Eddie’s arm to join you. 

“You like it?” Your voice is quiet and careful as your cheek rests against the softness his sweater.

“Pretty,” Eddie says, just as quiet. His arms wind around you and hold you against his chest, starting a slow rock from foot to foot.

“Can I give you something?” you ask, voice muffled against his chest.

Eddie’s brows shoot up, a flirty look in his eyes. “Oh? You can give me whatever you want, babydoll.”

That wolfish grin of his still made you feel tingly all over, even as you rolled your eyes at him.

“It’s for the tree. Cool it, Romeo.” 

You pay this kiss-tax to be freed from the cosiness of his arms and slip into the bedroom for just a second. It is enough time for Eddie to edit a few baubles like it’s second nature to him, swapping out colours that are too close to each other and filling gaps until you arrive with a box. He has forgotten that he used to watch his mother do the same thing while he was content with his oven-warm cookies and cold milk on the couch.

You pass the box to Eddie. “It’s not really a gift. It’s for both of us.”

“Is it lingerie?” His brows raise, hopefully suggestive, as he smooths a finger over the lovingly slapped-on bow. Lingerie has certainly proven itself to be quite the mutual gift over the last year. His mind wanders to that last deep purple set you bought, and he can feel himself starting to drool.

“Eddie, just open it. You’re going to be so disappointed, it’s lame…”

At the talk of lingerie, you are acutely aware that you are currently dressed in sweats and one of his hoodies. In a funny sort of way, you know that the cosy combo does it for Eddie as much as lace and satin. The every-horny-for-your-boyfriend part of your brain considers wrapping yourself up in a big red bow for him. He would like that far too much.

He feigns coolness as he pulls the lid off and you push your unhinged thoughts away.

Inside, wrapped in crinkly red tissue paper, are two things - a matte black bauble with your initials curling together in shiny red calligraphy. Beside it, a small silver frame ornament with a candid snap of Eddie and you from Thanksgiving just passed, the one you spent in Hawkins with Wayne and his girlfriend. You’re perched on his lap, arms looped around his neck, smiling and very clearly obsessed with each other.

“I just thought we could... We could start our own traditions. Little things.” You speak into the quietness of the room as Eddie stares into the box. You murmur to yourself when he doesn’t answer, “You didn’t even want a tree, it’s so stupid.”

“Stop that.” Eddie’s frown is serious. “My girlfriend isn’t stupid. How dare you.” 

“But you don’t even like Christmas… It’s kinda stu-”

“Don’t. It’s fuckin’ thoughtful as fuck.” Eddie smiles softly at the ornaments, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. “You’re too cute, baby.” 

Pressing a smiling kiss to your lips, Eddie could feel himself beginning to soften. Maybe this Christmas thing would not be so bad this year…

Christmas with Wayne was always low-key - some years his Uncle took a shift at the plant and they exchanged thoughtfully practical presents like new guitar strings or picks, a book or an album, novelty mugs and new baseball caps or shirts. 

Wayne was not so fond of Christmas either. It reminded him of his heavy-handed drunk of a father, and the anxiety-inducing unanswered phone calls to his idiot brother’s house after Elizabeth died. It reminded him of finding his nephew alone in a cold house on Christmas Day, without a tree or dinner when Al forgot to come home. The kid didn’t have a single present to open from Santa. 

When Eddie moved to the trailer with him, too wise to the big bad world to be so easily distracted by shiny things, Wayne made sure there was a present for Eddie every single year, a meal and some company - even if the kid didn’t want it, even if Eddie screamed and threw a fit until he sobbed himself silent because he was just a little boy who missed his Mama…

Now, in the cocoon of your home together, Eddie's smile brims with child-like innocence, touched by the weight of wanting to start your own traditions together. You knew you were it for each other, but the little reminder of how much you meant it makes him glow.

He puts the box down and cups your face, pressing kisses everywhere he can reach. “God, I’m so in love with you,” he growls like a happy demon, making you laugh. 

Contently trapped against his body, soft and lean in all the right places, you release the breath you had been holding as Eddie studies the contents of the gift box again. 

“Look at these! I need this picture for my wallet. I need like, six copies,” he murmurs, “Have you ever seen a hotter couple?” Eddie brushes his thumb over the velvety loop of ribbon to hang it on the tree. “We need this for our grandkids, baby.” 

“Laurel took it. I’ll get you another copy.” Your face hurts from smiling as he kisses your cheek again. Wayne’s girlfriend was fond of you both, particularly Eddie.

“And this? Fuckin’ gothic as hell, I love it.” He strokes the intertwined initials before putting the box down to hug you just a shade off too tight. Nuzzling your noses together, he asks, “Where are we going to hang ‘em?”

“Front and centre?” you suggested, shrugging a little. “We could move that one…”

“Creepy Santa?”

“Banish him to the back of the tree. Begone, creep.”

Eddie chokes a laugh and muttered, “I love when you say nerdy shit, baby,” before unwinding his arms from around you to banish Creepy Santa.

“My boyfriend is a huge nerd, I can’t help it,” you tease.

After some careful re-arranging, the two new additions take pride of place on your tree. Eddie’s tongue had stuck out in concentration as he balanced them both so carefully; you wished you had your camera to capture the moment, not that you would ever forget it. 

You are wrapped up in his arms again once you agree on the placement, nose to nose as Eddie tells you how much he loves you again. The little noise he makes when you slip your hands into his back pockets hits low in your gut.

“You saving those kisses you earned or cashing them in, hot stuff?” you ask, tracing his jaw with the tip of your nose.

Eddie’s teeth flash in the low light; the room is shadowy and warm in the glow of string lights and a dim lamp in the corner. 

“Oh, I’m saving them up, princess. Might claim one or two right now, but the rest are staying with me. Got a pocketful of IOUs for kisses.”

You press your face against his shoulder, smiling. “That’s so ominous, Teddy.” 

“Next time you’re mad at me? Kiss token. When you’re too busy with stupid chores to take my human right to be kissed seriously? Pucker the fuck up, pretty girl.” 

You love him all ways, but especially like this; playful and fun, flirting hard with you. Eddie’s using his voice in a way you know comes from years of playing DnD, and a stint in the drama club at school. He’s in-your-face-flirty, never subtle. This is the man who punched someone for you before you were even dating; there’s nothing subtle about Eddie Munson. 

No, there’s absolutely nothing subtle about Eddie as his hips press forward against yours and he directs your mouth to his, cashing in the first of those kisses. He smiles when you chase him for more. You pull him closer, your hands on that flat ass of his, and sigh when his tongue licks across your bottom lip. 

“That’s one,” he whispers. 

He cups your warm cheek, his pinky stroking your pulse point. He can feel your blood pump quicker when his breath breezes over your mouth, like the hard beating of butterfly wings that he feels too. Eddie likes how they have not gone away yet for either of you; over a year together and no sign of migration. He hopes they never leave.

“M’not counting. Just kiss me,” you whisper, a little whiney and needier than you had realised now that you are pressed up against him with nowhere else to be. 

Never one to leave you hanging (unless that was part of the game you were playing), Eddie kisses you like a man starved. He craves that gasping whimper only he can pull from your throat, the flutter of your lashes when your tongues slide together. 

You shiver when his chilly fingers slip up beneath your sweatshirt, palm flat to the small of your back - the part he likes to see arched when he takes you from behind. 

Your lips buzz where they press against Eddie’s; the electricity passing between you makes you glow like Christmas lights. 

Eddie can tell your brain is still working too hard and brings his hand to your throat; not squeezing but his touch just enough to bring you back to him. It makes you keen for him. A reminder of something you both want to try, but not before you work up to it and do a little more research.

“Okay?” he checks, kissing the corner of your mouth. He watches your eyes go dark, swallowed up by your pupils in the dim light. 

“Mhm,” you murmur, tilting your chin just enough to graze your lips against Eddie’s.

He blesses you with an all-too-brief kiss, knowing you need and want more. He backs up a few steps, taking you with him to sit on the couch. Sitting there, thighs spread and waiting, the way he looks up at you makes you clench. You take your place in his lap and spend a moment slowing it all down again, forehead to forehead with Eddie’s hands stroking your hips. 

“I love you,” he whispers, the words tickling your lips. 

“I know. Love you,” you murmur back, pulling back enough to look into his eyes. You thumb the tired crescent beneath it, skating along his smiling cheek. 

When he looks at you, it makes your heart beat double time; it’s not just the lust darkening his eyes, but pure adoration. 

You cross your arms to wriggle out of the hoodie, stripped down to a cotton cami and a bra that had been relegated to comfy-wear-only. Eddie thinks you are a goddess, and he is completely and utterly down-bad for you. The glow of the Christmas tree behind you makes you look like some sort of angel.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs. His hands run up your sides and down again, pulling you in closer onto his lap. You can feel him beneath the layers of sweatpants and denim. 

You lean into him again for another kiss, melting against Eddie’s warm chest when his hands begin to wander. He kisses you, his tongue twisted with yours as he takes his time. There is no rush this evening, no need to get off quick before your shift. 

Without the deadline, you draw it out - kissing slow, hands wandering to squeeze and tease, hips rolling and grinding together hot and hard beneath the layers. You give extra attention to that spot on Eddie’s neck that makes him go cross-eyed, dragging your teeth over the little bruise he can hide beneath his hair (but he won’t because he’s a menace and a bit of a slut). 

You pull off his black sweater - the one that hugs his arms and makes his waist look biteable - and kiss along the neckline of his tank top. Your fingers push at it and his silver chain when they get in the way of another bruise-making kiss that makes Eddie swear under his breath. 

“Baby, fuck.” 

He grunts quietly when you push your hips together again, attempting to relieve some of the building ache between your thighs. 

“Mm, that’s the plan,” you whisper, smiling against his collarbone when he chokes on his own throaty laugh. 

When you look up at him there is a dusty pink flush across his cheeks. You watch his jaw drop just a fraction when your breath casts over the damp kisses you left on his neck. When your thumb catches purposefully on his nipple there’s a quiet ‘fuck’ that tumbles from his tongue. 

As his ability to be patient wanes, Eddie catches your lips again and slowly guides you to lie back against the sofa cushions.

“You drive my crazy,” he whispers, brushing back the hair that had fallen around your face. He kisses you again, a whisper of teeth against your lip before your tongues meet in a filthy kiss.

You make space for him between your legs, lying chest to chest as close as possible without opening up your chest and letting him crawl inside, without physically melting together to become one. You lose yourself in each other, bathed in the warm light of the tree.

“You didn’t do a star. Or an angel, angel. Do you have one?” Eddie’s jeans and belt are undone around his hips as he sits with your feet in his lap, pulled back on to smoke out the window.

“I got distracted before I could put it up.” You wiggle your toes against his thigh, yelping when he runs his fingertips over the sole. You shove it beneath his leg, safe and warm away from his tickling fingers. “I have one. It’s in that bag.” 

Back in your (Eddie’s) hoodie and your underwear, you point him toward the busted-around-the-edges gift bag left forgotten by the stereo. “You wanna put it up?”

Eddie smells warm and smokey when he leans in for a kiss, a tinge of sweat lingering after making love to you. He still has his warm pink-cheeked glow and proudly wears the bruises from your sweet mouth, the red marks left by your fingernails on his back. 

Three pecks later, he stands with a groan more befitting a man of his uncle’s age and picks up the bag. You watch him stare at the contents, an unreadable look on his face as he lifts it out.

Your star is kitschy as hell, gold with little tinsel pom-poms on the pointy edges and definitely older than both of you. It’s not to everyone’s taste, a little tacky perhaps, but that was part of its charm. When it caught your magpie-eye in a junk shop a few weeks ago you couldn’t leave it behind. The had-seen-better-days tree-topper that had cost one whole dollar and seventy-five cents. It had glittered at you from the shelf and whispered ‘take me with you’. 

“If you hate it, we don’t have to put it up. We could put Creepy Santa up there instead,” you mused, “Our creepy angel…” 

“I don’t hate it. It’s so… wrong in the best way.” Eddie turns the star-shape in his hands. It reminds him of the chintzy and bright Christmas trees and flashy lights in Forest Hills. “Where the hell did you even get this thing?” 

“In the little thrift store near the camera shop. The one where you got me those earrings…?” 

“Mm, I know it. Maybe we can un-banish the Creep too. I guess it’s Christmas after all…” he reaches for the previously hidden Santa Claus figure with shifty eyes and rosy cheeks and replaces him near the top of the tree. “Yeesh, you’re a weird little man.” He flicks Santa before lifting the star up. “You wanna do the honours?”

From your cosy place on the couch, still pleasantly jelly-legged and tingly all over, you shake your head. “You do it. I’m comfy.” 

Eddie shrugs and reaches to balance the topper on the highest point of your perfectly wonky little tree, standing back with his hands on his hips before looking to you for approval. 

You give Eddie two thumbs up before opening your arms for him. You barely brace for impact when he pounces on you, head thrown back laughing. “Ed!” You squeak when he presses growling kisses to your neck. 

Resting on your chest, Eddie looks up at you with those shiny baby-cow eyes you adore. He is so soft beneath it all. He makes your heart beat double time. You brush back his hair and kiss his forehead as he gets comfortable. You wrap your legs around him so he cannot go anywhere, even if he wanted to. 

“Can we make this part of our tradition too?” he asks.

“Mm, I like how you think, pretty boy.”

Your fingers comb through his curls as he rests his weight on you. There is nowhere you would rather be.

Eddie cannot keep himself from staring at the tree in the quiet bliss of it all. He soaks it in; the thud of your heart beneath his ear, the way the tree-lights blur his eyes when he stares at them for too long. 

A small slow smile spreads onto his face. He decides then that maybe, just maybe, Christmas might not be so bad this year.

An easter egg for the babes who made it to the end - here's the picture from the header image (I love making photos like this for fics tbh). I like to think this is one of the pictures Eddie's Mom sent to Wayne and he still has it 🥲🥲🥲

Thank you for reading ❤️ reblogs, likes and comments are cherished and adored!

[runningquill-art]

“The towering, snow-covered fir trees of the densely packed forest cast a premature darkness over everything and blocked the late afternoon sunlight. But that darkness served its purpose as they came around a bend in the trail into an open clearing.

“Oh my…” Hermione trailed off breathlessly.

While they’d previously been surrounded by dark trees, they now found themselves encircled in yellowish, twinkling lights. Even Draco could admit, albeit begrudgingly, that the sight was quite spectacular. The bright little fairies sparkled and danced all around, some flitting from tree to tree while others remained dormant, pulsing in place. A low humming sound pierced the quiet stillness of the forest, otherwise silent but for Draco and Hermione’s cold puffs of breath.” - Remain Nameless, chapter 35, by @heyjude19-writing

[death-paint]

The Summoning (Spellbound pt.2)

Leon Kennedy x Fem! Witch! Reader

Word Count: 3427

Warnings: Smut, Daddy kink, unprotected p in v sex, thigh riding, clothed sex (kinda?? reader is in lingerie I'm not sure if that counts)

Summary: Leon gets busy during the holidays, having to leave for a mission just before Christmas. You do some holiday decorating while he's gone, and he gets to open his present a little early. ;) If it's a bit confusing, reader celebrates both Yule and Christmas.

I worked on this for about a week and finished it just last night, so I really hope it's still a decent piece of writing lol. I also don't write a bunch of smut so I hope that part is at least okay

Tysm @ghostkennedy for beta reading!! If you're into dark fics, Han's your gal. Go check out their writing!!

I suggest reading part 1 first! But it's not necessary <3

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ CONTENT

Edit: I made a playlist for this and part 1! Feel free to listen to it while you're reading!

dividers by @cafekitsune

A few months have passed since your first attempt to teach Leon the ways of your practice. Ever since then, he’s been asking you to make him protection spell jars whenever he has to leave for work, “just in case,” he says. It didn’t take a psychic to know that he was starting to believe it, even if it was just a tiny bit. Tarot card pullings are a part of both your daily routines now, and Leon was well on his way to learning their meanings.

Now, it was late December, and you were once again dancing around the house with incense, the scent of which still made Leon turn up his nose. But that didn’t matter right now. He was out “running errands,” no doubt gift shopping for your and Leon’s mutual friends. Or maybe he was out to pay a bill or two and get groceries, but either way, he was out of the house. Music blaring throughout your home once more, you spun and stomped and shimmied as you put up the Yule decorations. Small holly branches were in a vase on the dining table, a pentacle hidden in a wreath outside the front door, and a large fir tree in the corner of the living room. A few pine branches and pinecones sat atop the bookshelf and your altar in the living room, giving it a fresh scent. Candles were scattered about, almost no corner was without one. A gold one here, a red one over there, the odd green or white ones sprinkled around.

Leon was never much of a decorator, never saw the point of keeping material possessions, especially if he was basically on call for the government 24/7. It made it a little harder to tell what kinds of gifts Leon would appreciate. You only got him cologne and a new pair of gloves for his last birthday, figuring he’d appreciate a more useful present. He seemed happy with it, you caught a whiff of the cologne every time he kissed you; made your head spin. But once you came along and moved in with him, he found himself looking for little trinkets to bring back, most of which ended up displayed on your altar.

So, that’s why holiday decorations are usually up to you. Not that you minded, it was nice to have free reign over how the house looked, even if sometimes you were up at odd hours of the night nearly breaking your back to rearrange things. Literally. Leon had woken up once or twice to that, finding you on the kitchen counter or catching you from when you fell off of the bookshelf.

“You can do all that in the morning, baby,” he yawned, his groggy voice filled with concern as he rubbed his eyes. “And you can ask me to help, you know. Don’t need you breaking bones just to make the living room all pretty, doll.”

You spent hours getting everything to look perfect, saving the tree for when Leon got home. Gotta make it feel like he participated at least a little, right? Mistletoe hung just above the entrance to your home, a nice surprise for when your partner returned home. You sat in the kitchen, decorating a log at the dining table for a while before getting up and taking a break to make some cookies for you and your boyfriend to enjoy. Fun holiday cookies, with a bit of a witchy twist.

You washed your hands and gathered up the ingredients for the average person’s sugar cookies. But you were no average person. From the kitchen cupboard, you pulled a jar filled with dried lavender and a paper bag of rose petals. You stared at them a moment before deciding against the rose petals, putting them back. Do you make a syrup first, or just drop the lavender buds into the dough? Or do you simply wait and press the lavender in just before it goes into the oven? Thinking it over, you decided the best way to get what you wanted out of the cookies was to mix the flower buds into the dough, as it would better hide the texture while still being delightfully floral. So you do just that, sprinkling a little bit of lavender into the bowl and putting the jar back from where it came. You decide on fun little decorations, carefully arranging purple and green colored sugar into the shape of lavender on a few of the cookies before tossing them into the oven along with a few orange slices to dry out.

And then comes the sound of the door shutting.

“Looks like someone was busy today!” Leon calls from the doorway. You sprint over as fast as you can, quickly giving him a series of pecks all over his face. When he playfully raises an eyebrow at you in affectionate confusion, you point up at the ceiling above the door. He chuckles, amused as he sets a few bags on the floor. He then wraps his arms around you, pulling you in for a much slower, more passionate kiss, swaying along to the music coming from your phone hooked up to a speaker in the living room.

“How’d the errand running go?” You ask, curiously trying to peek inside of the bags that lay by Leon’s feet.

“It went just fine,” he replied, moving to block the bags from your sight. “No peeking. We’ll wrap the gifts together in a bit.” He took the bags and put them in a nearby cabinet. He took off his jacket, put it on the coat rack, and kicked his shoes off before making his way to the kitchen to wash his hands.

“Hey, what’s up with the wood on the table?”

“Oh!” You walk into the kitchen after him. “I was in the middle of decorating a Yule log!”

“Looks festive.” He moved the log to sit on top of the cabinet he put the gift bags in. “You really take the whole holiday decorating thing seriously, don’t you?”

“What can I say? I like making the place look pretty!” You smile.

“Every room is a thousand times prettier the second you walk into it,” Leon kisses your forehead.

“Oh, shut up,” you scoff.

“What? It’s true!”

“You’re so fuckin’ cheesy.”

“Shut up, you love it.”

“Yeah, I do.” You sigh, hugging him.

The smell of lavender and citrus permeates the kitchen, and you release yourself from Leon to take the baking tray out of the oven. It lands on the top of the stove with a bit of a clatter, filling the room with its wonderful aroma a bit more strongly now.

“What’s that? Cookies?” Leon asks, sneaking up behind you, reaching out to grab a cookie and wiggling his fingers. You smack his hand away.

“You’re gonna burn yourself.” You warn him, shooting over a glare.

“If it’s something you made, it’s worth it.” Leon reaches around you, grabs a cookie, and immediately recoils, hissing in pain as he shakes his hand, dropping the cookie back onto the tray.

“Told you.” You smirk.

“That you did.” He walks to the sink to run his hand under cold water for a moment. Once he feels the pain has dulled enough, he makes his way back to you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you on the forehead. “Well…since you’ve done a lot today, how about we order takeout? As a treat.”

“Okay. How’s pizza sound? Or…actually, maybe I want Chinese food…” You go back and forth between the two, thinking of the different reasons for each. Leon chuckles at your indecisiveness.

“We can do both. You’ve earned it, doll.” Even after you’ve lost count of how many times he’s used the pet name, it still makes your face turn beet red.

“You spoil me.”

“That’s my job.”

And so the two of you sat in the newly redecorated living room, sifting through all the different ornaments to decorate the tree as you waited for your food to arrive. Leon of course was in charge of the star, him being the taller one in the house. Dried citrus slices, cinnamon, and other natural decorations hung from the branches, along with several sparkling garlands, glass pixies, and snowflakes. By the time you got to wrapping the colorful lights around the fake evergreen, the doorbell rang, signaling it was about time for a break.

Neither of you bothered to grab plates, agreeing that neither of you wanted to do dishes tonight. Instead, you opted to just use the plastic forks that came with the bag of takeout containers, and ate the pizza straight from the box as you stared up at the television screen, watching whatever Christmas movie happened to be on. At some point, you hopped back off the couch, finishing up the tree and glancing up at the TV every so often.

Now it was Christmas Eve, and some grinch of a bioterrorist had Leon off to work again. Can’t they take the day off too? Take a break from trying to destroy the world and all that when you’re trying to spend time with your boyfriend? Fucking rude. But the fact of the matter was that they don’t give a fuck, and you had to sit at home, waiting, unsure of his safety, as he couldn’t text you while he was out. In your boredom, you had the idea to come up with yet another surprise for him. You grin devilishly, deciding to go shopping for Leon’s present.

After breakfast, you headed out for the nearest department store, browsing the aisles for hours before settling on a cute floral set that was a bit heavier on the greens. You tossed an elf hat into the basket as well as a few other things you thought Leon might like. A few bows tossed in at the last second, and you were on your way back home. As soon as you got inside, you wrapped all your gifts (aside from the lingerie) and placed them underneath the tree. The rest of your day was rather uneventful. You took a nap around two o’clock in the afternoon, had leftovers for dinner, nothing special.

And then came the text.

Of course, you hadn’t been expecting one, especially not from your boyfriend. Not so soon. Guess it either wasn’t that big of a threat, or he had help. Or maybe he was just that good. Or all of the above. Whatever the cause of his early return was didn’t really matter, it just meant you’d be able to see the look on his face sooner than you’d anticipated. Giggling and giddy with excitement, you slipped on the lingerie set, hat, and some festive stockings you had hidden in a drawer somewhere. You stuck one of the ribbons on your chest above your heart, turned on the lights of the tree, and assumed your place underneath it, waiting patiently for Leon’s return.

Quite some time after you first sat, you were halfway to falling asleep when you heard the lock click open, signaling your partner's return. At first, Leon didn't seem to notice, assuming that the lack of light (aside from the tree) meant you were in bed. It was your hair getting caught on a branch that made him look over.

“Oh? Look what we have here…” Leon knelt down to your level after taking off his jacket and shoes, reaching out to touch your face. “A naughty little elf, wrapped up nice and pretty for me.” He moved his hand to rest underneath your chin, his thumb just underneath your bottom lip as he gently tilted your face up to look at him. You felt yourself slip into that hazy headspace the second the words left his mouth, your teeth gently tugging at your lip as your eyes met his. He chuckled upon seeing your expression, untangled your hair from the tree, and threw you over his shoulder to carry you to bed, your hat lying forgotten somewhere on the living room floor. Once he reached your shared bedroom, Leon gently dropped you on top of the mattress, watching as you looked up at him, glassy-eyed and cheeks flushed.

“Aw…pretty baby. Been waiting for me all night, haven’t you?” You nodded, a small whine leaving your lips. “Come on doll, use your words.”

“Yes, Daddy…missed you so much,” you pout, pretty doe eyes meeting his baby blues.

“That’s my girl.” Leon sits on the bed, one knee between your thighs, and one hand under your chin as he leans down to kiss you, the other supporting his weight. Slowly, the hand on your face moves to snake around your back, gently coaxing you to sit up on his leg. You clung to him, breasts pressing into his chest as your lips moved over one another’s hungrily. Leon’s hand wandered lower, giving your ass a squeeze. He quietly laughed as you jumped at the sudden sensation.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful. I don’t even wanna take this off…” Leon slid his thumb underneath the strap of your lacy bralette, letting it slip off and hit your skin with a snap.

“Then don’t,” you breathed. Leon thought it over for a beat, a smile overtaking his features.

“My pretty little angel…you’ve always been such a smart girl.” Shivers run down your spine as Leon pulls you in for another heated kiss.

As you tangled your fingers in his hair, he slid one of his own hands underneath the fabric of your bralette, kneading your soft flesh. Slick pooled in your new lacy panties, and you slowly started to drag your clothed cunt back and forth against the rough texture of Leon’s jeans.

“Aw…gonna make a mess all over my pants, baby?” He coos, both of his hands on your hips now. 

“Mhm!” You nod, continuing to roll your hips, your voice high-pitched and whiny.

“Such a needy little girl.” Leon teased. “Go ahead, baby. Show Daddy how bad you need him.”

You found it hard to keep your head on straight as your hips started to move faster, Leon’s hands helping you get enough pressure on your bundle of nerves. Your arms hung around his neck, a dazed look on your face as you tried desperately to get yourself off. Leon always thought you looked adorable like this–made him that much more eager to bury his cock inside your soaking wet pussy. Seeing your expression, he felt his cock twitch in his pants. You looked so pretty, so desperate. He almost didn’t want to wait anymore–had to remind himself to be patient. Needed to be sure you’d be ready for him.

Your face did little to hide the pleasure you felt, the delicious friction of your clit moving back and forth on the denim nearly too much to bear. You clung to Leon a little tighter, the fire in your lower body dangerously close to spilling over.

“Le- fuck…Leon!” you cried out, voice quivering.

“Go ahead, doll. Be a good girl and cum on my lap, baby.” One of Leon’s hands comes back to your face to wipe away a tear that slipped its way down your cheek, moving to guide your face to kiss him once more. Your hips rolled harder and faster a few more times as you whimpered and moaned into his mouth, your orgasm burning through your body and leaving you shaking as Leon guided your hips to ride it out.

“My sweet angel…you did so well, sweetheart.” He caressed your body after it was over, hands lingering near your ass and soft breasts. “Guess I should give my pretty baby what she’s been waiting for, yeah?” You nodded in response, prompting an expecting look from Leon.

“Yes, please, Daddy! Been waiting so long!” Your face falls into that adorable pout again. God, it made Leon want to fuck you endlessly, so hard you wouldn’t recover for weeks. He pushed you to lie on your back, standing up to undress. Leon did his best to make a show of it, but undressed rather quickly, eager to feel your hot, wet pussy around his cock.

Your breathing picked up again as you watched him, eyes trailing over his hands as they unbuckled his belt with a few satisfying clinks. The sound had you rubbing your thighs together with anticipation. Fuck, you needed him so, so bad.

Leon, sensing your impatience, hurried to kick off the rest of his clothing, rushing back to the bed to kiss you, his body hanging over your own. The heat of his body against yours felt so nice as he reached down between the two of you to feel how wet you were. You were absolutely drenched, and he'd hardly even touched you! He smirked as his fingers delved into your slick, embarrassing wet sounds filling the bedroom.

“Leon…please…” you whined, holding back from fucking yourself on his fingers. “No more teasing…”

“So my little doll can ask for what she wants!” He pulled his hand away from your core, wrapping it around the base of his thick, hard cock. His other hand pushed your panties to the side, and he stared for a moment at your glistening folds before guiding the head of his dick to sit at your entrance. “God, it gets even more beautiful every time I look at it, baby. Love seeing how wet I can make you.” He murmured, burying his length inside of you. The two of you sat in silence for a few seconds, giving you time to adjust to the feeling of him stretching out your tight hole. You rolled your hips up into his, signaling you were ready for him to move.

He set as steady a pace as he could, finding it hard not to just pound into you as soon as he slipped in. He'd missed you while he was out. Wanted–no, needed to feel your skin on his for days. The way you pushed yourself back to him wasn't exactly helping, either. Gradually, he picked up the pace, the head of his length hitting your sweet spot and making your pussy squeeze around him, sucking his cock in deeper.

“Shit…keep squeezing me like that and I won't be able to last much longer, angel.”

“Can't help it, Daddy…feels so good…”

Leon leaned in closer, pushing your legs to your chest in a mating press, his thrusts pushing his cock so deep you damn near felt him in your throat, leaving you breathlessly moaning as he rolled his hips. Your eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out pathetically as Leon’s thumb circled your clit, making you see stars.

“Fuck- daddy! Daddy please!” Your cunt pulsing around his cock was driving him insane, he was so close to the edge, just needed to bring you there with him.

“I know, baby girl, I know,” he purred. “Need you to wait for me, okay? Gotta be a good girl and wait until I say.” You only whimpered and nodded, unsure if you could speak any further.

Leon's thumb kept stroking your throbbing clit, your pussy clenching around his shaft was fucking heaven. His thrusts stuttered, cock twitching inside your walls.

“Cum for me, angel,” he pounded into you harder and faster now, his cock hitting your g-spot nearly perfectly every time it plunged back into your cunt. 

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy” was all you could say as your body twitched and writhed, the wet slapping of your bodies together sending you over the edge.

“Fuck, that's it. Yeah, that's my good girl,” Leon grunted, groaning loudly as your pussy milked his cock, making him spurt his hot, thick load deep inside. “So good for me. Love you so much, baby.” He kissed your forehead as he slipped his cock out from your hole, using his fingers to stuff his cum back inside. He steps out of the room for a minute, hurrying back with a couple of water bottles. He helps you sit up, handing you a bottle.

“Thank you, Leon.” You open the water bottle and take a sip.

“Anything for my pretty girl.” Leon smiles, climbing into bed beside you. “You okay?”

“Mhm. Just…” your sentence is interrupted by a big yawn. “Sleepy.”

“I think some cuddles are in order then, yeah?”

“That sounds perfect.” You yawn again, snuggling up to him, and laying your head on his chest. “I love you, Leon.”

“Love you too, baby.” he wraps his arms around you as you both happily drift off to sleep.

[stalkerofthegods]

Lady Artemis Straight to the point info 

Lady Artemis who is the light, and the arrow in the bow, and the bullet in a hunting gun, and the same string In a lyre and a bow. May we all praise the wise huntress, Who is gentle to young girls and the bringer of Swift death from her golden bow.

Herbs • Artemisia, plants that bloom under the moonlight, Cypress, Chamomile, thyme, Lavender, Mugwort (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Birch, Juniper (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Mint, Pine (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Sage, Thistle (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Yarrow (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Angelica (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Bay Laurel (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Coriander, Dill, amaranth, cannabis, cedar, cypress, daisy, date palm, hazel, mugwort, myrtle, ox-eye daisy, silver fir, willow, laurel trees, fir trees, Various nuts or nut trees, Asphodel, Wormwood, wild flowers, Tarragon

Animals• deer/stags, geese, wild dogs, fish, goats, bees, hounds, all animals (she is the creator of all Animals in some discriptons), Calydonian boar, partridges, guineafowls, lions or leopards, bees, bears especially, bulls 

Zodiac • Cancer, Sagittarius, and Scorpio 

Colors • Silver, green, blood red, moonlight silver, Yellow

Crystal• moonstone, Black jasper, Clear quarts, Opal, White or black pearls, Amethyst, Black tourmaline.

Symbols• quiver, hunting spears, a torch, and a lyre, deer 

Jewelry you can wear in their honor• You can veil, and wear a maternity outfit in her honor while giving birth. 

Diety of • Unmarried Girls, Girl Childhood, hunting, chastity, menstruation, fast and easy death in childbirth, nature, childbirth, wildlife, healing, sudden death, animals, lakes, springs, virginity, young women, archery, and the moon

Patron of • childbirth, and fertility (Virgin means unmarried when she got the title before the meaning of it today, she helped Apollo be born, which accords to fertility), lesbians, unmarried women, hunt, chastity, archery, and the wilds, she protects girls and women during childbirth, menstruation, the moon, Nursing infants, Maiden dances, Maiden song, nurses/doctors who help with childbirth

Offerings•  •Bows and arrows, Images of Artemis, Game meat, Amphiphontes (round cakes topped with tiny torches, These are likely a reference to the full moon. White-frosted cupcakes with white or silver candles may be a suitable substitute), Cakes, cookies, pastries shaped like animals (ex-particularly deer), Red wine, Red grape, popomegranate, cranberry juice, Honey, Luxurious clothing, Wildflowers, almonds, goats, Honey, Hunting tools, javelins, nets, traps, masks, flowers, animal bones, tusks, taxidermy, tusks, animal hides, clothing (your favorite clothing or a garment you bought specifically for her), Owl and quail feathers, your hair 

Devotional• Donate to childbirth charities, donate to young girl charities and programs,   Dancing, Herbalism, Donating woman and girl clothes, taking nature walks, enjoying nature, give her offerings at midnight, make arrows, devote your hunting (invoke her before and thank her after), have a feast of her favorite food in her honor

Ephithets & titles • ACRAEA/Akraia - given to various goddesses and gods whose temples were situated upon hills, AEGINAEA/Aiginaia - when she was worshipped at Sparta, AETO′LE/Aitôlê - when she was worshipped at Naupactus, AGORAEA/AGORAEUS/Agoraia/Agoraios - protectors of the assemblies of the people in the agora, AGRO′TERA/Agrotera - the huntress, ALPHAEA/ALPHEAEA/ALPHEIU′SA/Alphaia/Alpheaia/Alpheiousa - derived from the river god Alpheius, who loved her, AMARYNTHUS/Amarunthos - a hunter of Artemis, A′NGELOS/Angelos - when she was worshipped at Syracuse, APANCHO′MENE/Apanchomenê - the strangled goddess, ARICI′NA/Arikinê -from the town of Aricia in Latium, ARISTO/Aristô - the best, ASTRATEIA/Astrateia - she was believed to have stopped the progress of the Amazons, BRAURO′NIA/Braurônia - from the demos of Brauron in Attica, CALLISTE/Kallistê - when she was worshipped at Athens and Tegea, CARYA′TIS/Karuatis - from the town of Caryae in Laconia, CHITO′NE/Chitônê - represented as a huntress with her chiton girt up, CHRYSAOR/Chrusaôr - The god with the golden sword or arms, CNA′GIA/Knagia - derived from Cnageus, COLAENIS/Kolainis - from the Attic demos of Myrrhinus, CORDACA/Kordaka - derived from an indecent dance called kordac, performed in honour of the goddess after a victory,  CORYPHAEA/Koruphaia - the goddess who inhabits the summit of the mountain, CORYTHA′LLIA/Koruthallia - from Sparta, at whose festival of the Tithenidia, CRANAEA/Kranaia - derived from a temple on a hill near Elateia in Phocis, Kunthia and Kunthios - surnames respectively of Artemis and Apollo,  DAPHNAEA and DAPHNAEUS/Daphnaia and Daphnaios - surnames of Artemis and Apollo, DE′LIA and DE′LIUS/Dêlios and Dêlia or Dêlias - surnames of Apollo and Artemis, DELPHI′NIA/Delphinia -Artemis at Athens, DERRHIA′TIS/Derriatis -  derived from the town of Derrhion, 

EURY′NOME/Eurunomê - from Phiglea in Arcadia, GAME′LII/Gamêlioi theoi - the divinities protecting and presiding over marriage, GENETYLLIS/Genetullis - the protectress of births, HECAERGE/Hekaergê - a daughter of Boreas, who were believed to have introduced the worship of Artemis in Delos, HEGE′MONE/Hêgemonê - leader or ruler, HEMERE′SIA/Hêmerêsia - soothing goddess, HEURIPPE/Heurippa -  finder of horses, HY′MNIA/Humnia - when she was worshipped throughout Arcadia, IMBRA′IA/Imbrasia - surname of Artemi, ISSO′RIA/Issôria - derived from Mount Issorion, LA′PHRIA/Laphraia - surname of Artemis among the Calydonians, LEUCOPHRYNE/Leukophrunê - derived from the town of Leucophrys in Phrygia, LIME′NIA/LIMENI′TES/LIMENI′TIS, and LIMENO′SCOPUS/Limenia/Limenitês/Limenitis/Limenodkopos - the protector or superintendent of the harbour, LIMNAEA/LIMNE′TES/LIMNE′GENES/Limnaia/Limnêtês/Limnêgenês - inhabiting or born in a lake or marsh, LOCHEIA/Locheia - the protectress of women in childbed, LYCEIA/Lukeia - a surname of Artemis, LYCOA′TIS/Lukoatis - surname of Artemis, LYGODESMA/Lugodesma - surname of Artemis whose statue had been found by the brothers Astrabacus and Alopecus under a bush of willows, LYSIZO′NA/Lusizônê - the goddess who loosens the girdle, MELISSA/Melissa - alleviates the suffering of women in childbed, MUNY′CHIA/Mounuchia - derived from the Attic port-town of Munyhia, OENOA′TIS/Oinôatis - surname of Artemis, O′RTHIA/Orthia/Orthias/Orthôsia - regarded as the goddess of the moon, ORT′YGIA/Ortugia - derived from the island of Ortygia, PARTHE′NIA/Parthenia - the maiden, PHERAEA/Pheraia - surname of Artemis at Pherae in Thessaly, PHOEBE/Phoibê - regarded as the female Phoebus or sun, PHO′SPHORUS/Phôsphoros - occurs as a surname of several goddesses of light, PITANA′TIS/Pitanatis - derived from the little town of Pitana in Laconia, where she had a temple, SARO′NIS/Sarônis - surname of Artemis at Troezene, SARPEDO′NIA/Sarpêdonia - derived from cape Sarpedon in Cilicia, SOTEIRA/Sôteira - the saving goddess, TAU′RICA/DEA/hê Taurikê - the Taurian goddess, TAURIO′NE/TAURO/TAURO′POLOS/TAURO′POS/Tauriônê, Taurô/Tauropolo/Taurôpos - originally a designation of the Tauran goddess, 

THOANTEA - a surname of the Taurian Artemis, UPIS/Oupis - assisting women in child-birth, Αγροτερη/Agrotera - Of the Hunt, Δικτυνναια/Dictynnaea - Of the Hunting Nets, Φεραια/Pheraea - Of the Beasts, Ελαφιαια/Pheraea - Of the Deer, Δαφναιη/Daphnaiê - Of the Laurel-Tree, Κεδρεατις/Kedreatis - Of the Cedar-Tree, Καρυαι/Karyai - Of the Walnut-Tree, Καρυατις/Karyatis - Of the Walnut-Tree, Λιμναιη/Limnaiê - Of the Lake, Λιμνατις/Limnatis - Of the Lake, Ἑλεια/Hêleia - Of the Marshes, Ευρυνωμη/Eurynômê - Of Broad Pastures, Λυκειη/Lykeiê - Of the Wolves, Λευκοφρυηνη/Leukophruênê - Of the White-(Bird?), Παιδοτροφος/Paidotrophos - Nurse of Children, Φιλομειραξ/Philomeirax - Friend of Young Girls, Ορσιλοχια/Orsilokhia - Helper of Childbirth, Σελασφορος/Selasphoros - Light-Bringer, Φωσφορος/Phôsphoros - Light-Bringer, Σωτειρα/Sôteira - Saviour, Ἡμερασια/Hêmerasia - She who Soothes, Ὑμνιη/Hymniê - Of the Hymns, Ἡγεμονη/Hêgemonê - Leader (of Dance, Choir), Κορδαξ/Kordax - Of Cordax Dance, Αριστη/Aristê - Best and Excellent, Ευκλεια/Eukleia - Of Good Repute, Καλλιστη/Kallistê - Very Beautiful, Πατρωια/Patrôia - Of the Fathers or Ancestral, Βασιλεις/Basileis - Princess/Royal, Ἱερεια/Hiereia - Priestess, Πρωτοθρονιη/Prôtothroniê - Of the First Throne, Μουνυχια/Mounykhia - Of Munychia (Attica), Βραυρωνια/Braurônia - Of Brauron (Attica), Κορυφαια/Koryphaia - Of Mt Coryphus (Argos), Αιγιναιη/Aiginaiê - Of Aegina, Δερεατις/Dereatis - Of Dereum (Laconia), Αλφειαια/Alpheiaiai - Of Alpheus R. (Elis), Αλφειωσια/Alpheiôsia - Of Alpheus R. (Elis), Αλφειουση/Alpheiousê - Of Alpheus R. (Elis), Λυκοη/Lykoê - Of Lycoa (Arcadia), Σκιατις/Stymphalia - Of Scias (Arcadia), Στυμφαλια/Skiatis - Of Stymphalus (Arcadia), Κνακαλησια/Knakalêsia - Of Mt Cnacalus (Arcadia), Αιτωλη/Aitôlê - Of Aetolia, Αμαρυσιη/Amarysiê - Of Amarynthus (Euboea), Αμαρυνθια/Amarynthia - Of Amarynthus (Euboea), Φεραια/Pheraia - Of Pherae (Thessaly), Ροκκαια/Rhokkaia - Of Rhocca (Crete), Μυσια/Mysia - Of Mysia, Αστυρηνη/Astyrênê - Of Astyra (Troad), Κολοηνης/Koloênês - Of Coloe (Lydia), Εφεσια/Ephesia - Of Ephesus (Caria), Κινδυας/Kindyas - Of Cindya (Caria), Περγαια/Pergaia - Of Perge (Pamphylia), Σκυθια/Skythia - Of Scythia, Ταυρια/Tauria - Of Tauric Chersonese, Ταυροπολος/Tauropolos - Of Taurus-City (Scythia), Ιφιγενεια/Iphigeneia - Of Iphigenia (heroine), Σαρωνις/Sarônis - Of Saron (hero Argos), Κναγια/Knagia - Of Cnageus (hero Sparta), Ελαφιαια/Elaphiaia - Of Elaphius (hero Elis), Καλλιστω/Kallistô - Of Callisto (heroine Arcadia), Λαφρια/Laphria - Of Laphrus (hero Phocis), Σαρπεδωνια/Sarpedônia - Of Sarpedon (hero Lycia?), Προπυλαιη/Propylaiê - Of the Gate, Ορθια/Orthia - Of the Steep, Αγοραια/Agoraia - Of the Market-Place, Απανχομενη/Apankhomenê - Strangled Lady, Λυγοδεσμη/Lygodesmê - Willow-Bound, Αστρατεια/Astrateia - Stayed the Advance, Ἑυριππα/Heurippa - Horse-Finder, Πειθω/Peithô - Persuasive, Πυρωνια/Pyrônia - Of the Fire, Κολαινις/Kolainis - Hornless,

Docked (Animal), Κονδυλεατις/Kondyleatis - Of Knuckles? (kondylos), Λευκοφρυνη/Leukophrynê - White-Toad?, -Bird?, Κοκκωκη/Kokkôkê - Of Berry-Seed? (kokkos), Κνακεατις/Knakeatis - Of Wolves? (knêkias, knakias), Αναιιτις/Anaiitis - (Lydian Goddess?), Ισσωρια/Issôria - unkown, Νεμυδια/Nemydia - unkown, Πωτνια Θερων/Pôtnia Therôn - Queen of Beasts, Ποτνα Θεα/Potna Thea - Goddess Queen, Λητωις/Lêtôis - Daughter of Leto, Λατωια/Latôia - Daughter of Leto, Λητωιας/Lêtôias - Daughter of Leto, Ἑκατη/Hekatê - Far-Shooting, Ἑκατηβολος/Hekatêbolos - Far-Shooting,Ἑκαεργε/Hekaerge - Worker from Afar, Ιοχεαιρα/Iokheaira - Of Showering Arrows, Χρυσηλακατος/Khrysêlakatos - Of the Golden Distaff, Χρυσαλακατος/Khrysalakatos - With Shafts of Gold, Αγροτερα/Agrotera - Of the Hunt, Θηροσκοπος/Thêroskopos - Hunter of Wild Beasts, Ελαφηβολος/Elaphêbolos - Deer-Shooting, Χρυσηνιος/Khrysênios - Of the Golden Reins, Χρυσοθρονος/Khrysothronos - Of the Golden Throne, Ευστεφανος/Eustephanos - Well-Girdled/Sweet-Garlanded, Κελαδεινος/Keladeinos - Strong-Voiced, Κελαδεινη/Keladeinê - Lady of Clamours, Ἁγνη/Hagnê - Chaste/Pure, Παρθενος/Parthenos - Virgin/Maiden, Αιδοιος παρθενος/Aidoios Parthenos - Revered Virgin, Προστατηρια/Prostatêria - Standing Before/Guardian, Αρτεμισιον/Artemision - Temple of Artemis, Ταυροπολιον/Tauropolion - Temple of Taurian Artemis, Εφεσιον/Ephesion - Temple of Ephesian Artemis

Attedees• OKEANIDES Cloud-Nymphai (only 60 of the 3000), NAIADES Fresh-water Nymphai (only some), BRITOMARTIS Goddess of Nets, Apotheosed girl-companions (ex- Phylonoe, Polyboia, Iphigeneia, Oupis), Mortal hunting companions (ex- Kallisto, Hippolytos)

Equivalents (alike but not the same)• Diana (Roman), Selene (Greek), Artume (Etruscan), Flidais (Celtic), Skadi (Norse), Bendis (Thracian goddess), Bastet (Egyptian goddess), Perasia (Cappadocian goddess), Tauria (Taurian goddess)

Signs their reaching out• Sudden pull to research her, to hunt, suddenly meeting people hunting, being a girl group all of sudden, focusing on yourself and not sexuality. 

Vows/omans• being a sacred Virgin/unmarried forever 

Number• 6 

Morals• Morally dark.

Personality• Introverted and independent temperament, practical, adventurous, athletic, and prefers solitude, she loves hunting, she is focused. 

Home• Mount Olympus but does spend a lot of time in the forest. 

Mortal or immortal • Immortal

Facts• Artemis was both a hunter of wild animals and their protector, she helped Leto birth to Apollo (suggesting that she was already mentally developed in the wound.)

Curses• miscarriage, Stunted growth, Illness & disease, Sudden death, plague 

Blessings• Success in hunting, fishing, and fowling, Successful delivery, good health

Roots• She was first mentioned on 700 BC, by Hesiod, In the Theogony she was born on the island of Delos.

Parentage• Zeus and Leto 

Siblings• Apollo (twin brother and full sibling), Aeacus, Angelos, Aphrodite, Ares, Athena, Dionysus, Eileithyia, Enyo, Eris, Ersa, Hebe, Helen of Troy, Hephaestus, Heracles, Hermes, Minos, Pandia, Persephone, Perseus, Rhadamanthus, the Graces, the Horae, the Litae, the Muses and the Moirai.

Pet• Deers/Doe, they pull her chariot 

Appearance in astral or gen• usually depicted as a girl or young maiden with a hunting bow and quiver of arrows

Festivals • Mounukhia, Artemisia (6th June, Modern festival of Artemis where anything goes, celebrating freedom and modern inspiration),  Elaphebolia (6 Elaphebolion, March-April, Festival of Artemis the deer hunter), Kharisteria (6 Boedromion September-October, Festival of thanks to Artemis for Athen’s survival of the Persian assault at Marathon), Mounykhia (16 Mounykhion April-May, Festival of Artemis the light bringer), Philokhoria (Modern observance – Summer Solstice, A joint festival of Artemis and Apollo), Sixth (6th each month, Sacred to Artemis), Thargelia (6-7 Thargelion May-June, Birthday of Apollon and Artemis, first fruit offerings and purification festival)

Season • April and March

Day • Monday 

Secred places• Ephesus/Turkey, Island Delos, Aitolia in Greece, Greek Island Lykia in Anatolia

Status• Greek goddess, in the theoi.

Planet• Moon, (some also believe Venus.)

Her Tarot cards• the high priestess, the temperance card, and the page of wands

Scents/Inscene • Jasmine and lemon, mrryth, frankincense

Prayers• 

Prayer 1

Welcome beloved Artemis, our keen-eyed queen, I beg you hear me now. I pray you guide me that I might find the way. I pray you strengthen me that I might persevere along it. Make my discernment as yours that I might find worthy aims. Make my instinct as yours that I might seize worthy opportunities. Welcome sister of Apollo, golden huntress, we honor and thank you.

Prayer 2

Fleet-footed Artemis, keen-eyed daughter of Zeus and gentle Leto, sister of bright Apollo, we see your shadow in the woods, the curve of your bow, the flex of your arm, we hear the wind whisper as your arrows seek their mark–deadly your art, flawless your aim. Huntress you are, O Artemis, slayer of the stag and the boar, slayer of men and of women, death by your hand is death unforeseen. Maiden are you, goddess, and friend of maidens; ever-youthful one, your favor falls on the young, watching over young girls as they brave the world’s wonders, comforting the mother in the throes of her labor, keeping in your care the newborn babe. Artemis, shining maid of the wilderness, who takes pleasure in games, in contest and in merriment, who leads the nymphs in their carefree dance, whose clear voice we hear in the songs of young women and the hunter’s cry. Artemis, strong and tall, I praise and honor you.

3rd Prayer 

I praise bright Artemis, fair as the budding branch, fair as the spotted fawn, brave as the young bear. From crafty Hephaistos you took the artful bow, the sharp-barbed shafts; from father Zeus you claimed your calling. Far-shooting Artemis, through the thick of the darkened wood you make your way, trailing boar and hare, swiftly and silently, your aim ever flawless, ever kind.

Prayer 4

Artemis, light-bringer, mountain-dweller, graceful one who runs through thorn and thistle with never a scratch, goddess unparalleled, friend of mothers in their travels, friend of maidens, friend of the pretty nymphs, in old Arcadia you roamed the wilderness, in Tauris you took the blood of men, in Ephesus you wore the mural crown. The fire of youth is in you, goddess, the bold and valiant spirit that marks a child as yours. Free-hearted Artemis, worthy daughter of Leto, I honor you always.

5th Prayer

I praise you, Artemis, free-hearted child of Zeus and blessed Leto, courageous goddess who roams the wildwoods with silver bow at hand. Artemis of many names, Artemis of many lands, your temples stood shining and tall, in cities and in villages. In the long days of summer the maidens dance in your honor; in Brauron were the little she-bears under your care. Artemis, the mountains are yours to wander, fleet-footed and firm of step; the wilds of the world are dear to you, O guardian of wood and of beast. Goddess who takes joy in dance and song, companion of the laughing nymphs in all their play, of all young maids you are the swiftest and the strongest, the fairest and the first, in skill and grace the greatest.

Websites/sources in comments.

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Artemis who is the light, and the arrow in the bow, and the bullet in a hunting gun, and the same string In a lyre and a bow. May we all praise the wise huntress, Who is gentle to young girls and the bringer of Swift death from her golden bow.

———————-

Payment to my friend Bri https://www.tumblr.com/briislame

I use resources, I do not own the info, and most deep dives have UPG (that I use in my work.) And I only take some information from sources. I am 14, this is my hobby, I am learning but I spent many hours and days on this, and I am always open to criticism. I have been doing worship for 5 years. Please know you can use the info, I do not sue, but I will take action if this work is used without permission and not put as a resource if used in any work. without permisson and not put as a resource if used in any work, for the public.

[hrizantemy]

The soft glow of candlelight flickered across the grand hall, casting warm shadows against the stone walls, but all Nesta could feel was the cold sting of isolation that seeped into her bones. The Solstice festivities had always been a cacophony of laughter and light, a vibrant celebration of their bonds and victories. Yet this year, despite the excitement swirling around her, she found herself clutching a glass of wine, its crimson hue mirroring the tumult of emotions roiling within her.

Cassian, her mate, was swept up in a whirlwind of merriment, his laughter ringing out like music, charming everyone around him with effortless grace. She had hoped that this year would be different. After all the training sessions, the missions she had thrown herself into with determination, the scrying, and even the delicate dance steps that had felt so foreign to her, she thought perhaps she would finally feel a part of something. She had strived to prove herself, to show that she was more than just the ghost of her former self. But as the night wore on, it became painfully clear that her efforts had gone unnoticed.

Nestled in a shadowed alcove, she surveyed the gathering with a hollow ache in her chest. The laughter of her friends, the warmth of their camaraderie, felt like a world away. Her eyes drifted to the piles of brightly wrapped presents stacked beneath the twinkling fir tree, each one adorned with names that seemed to glimmer with promise. But there, amidst the offerings, she felt the weight of her absence. Not a single gift bore her name. It was a reminder of her outsider status, a cruel jest that echoed in her mind.

As she took a sip of wine, the bitter taste swirled on her tongue, much like the bitterness pooling in her heart. She had fought hard to belong, to shed the mantle of her past and step into the light of acceptance. Yet here she sat, invisible, nursing her glass while others danced and celebrated. The fleeting thought of stepping into the revelry flickered like the candle flames, but fear held her back. She had been left behind again, a sentiment that felt achingly familiar, and as she watched Cassian throw his head back in laughter, she realized the truth—she was still the one standing on the periphery, waiting for an invitation that never seemed to come.

The truth gnawed at her: they only accepted her because of Feyre and Cassian. Even they seemed blissfully unaware of the subtle ways in which she remained an outsider. She had fought so hard to shed the remnants of her past, to step into the light, yet here she sat, a specter clinging to the edges of a celebration that felt like it was happening without her. The reality was undeniable: she was still the girl who had been so often overlooked, still trying to carve out a space in a world that seemed perfectly fine without her.

Her thoughts spiraled into a darkened abyss of self-pity and anger until the sudden sound of a knock shattered the stillness around her. Feyre, radiant and glowing with the light of the celebration, moved to answer the door, her face a picture of curiosity. Nesta’s heart quickened, the possibility of someone—anyone—entering their space promising a momentary reprieve from her spiraling thoughts.

The door creaked open, and Nesta’s breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of Lucien standing there, a lopsided grin on his face. But he wasn’t alone. Vassa stood beside him, her presence striking and confident, while Jurian, with his imposing stature, filled the doorway behind them. The trio exuded a sense of purpose and camaraderie that made Nesta feel even smaller, yet there was something else in the air—a hint of excitement, a shift that made her heart race with a mix of dread and hope.

Feyre welcomed them with open arms, her voice ringing with warmth as she pulled them inside. Nesta’s chest tightened, a flare of jealousy igniting at the sight of Feyre’s effortless connection with others. She felt the familiar sting of exclusion creeping back in as the door swung shut behind them, the laughter and warmth of the gathering rushing in to envelop her.

Lucien stepped inside, his expression a mixture of exasperation and affection as he looked at Feyre. “I tried to sway them from coming,” he said, running a hand through his hair, which had become tousled in the winter winds. “But Vassa wouldn’t hear of it. She’s determined to get updates on her curse and how things are progressing. You know how she is—she’s relentless.”

Vassa rolled her eyes playfully, a smirk playing on her lips. “What can I say? I’m eager to know how close we are to breaking it. I’ve waited long enough,” she replied, crossing her arms.

“And Jurian?” Lucien continued, casting a knowing glance toward the tall figure behind Vassa. “Well, he’s just a nosy bastard who insists on tagging along whenever I leave the court. I can’t get rid of him.”

Jurian grinned, unabashed by the jab. “What can I say? Someone has to keep you on your toes, Lucien. Besides,” he added, his voice rich with amusement, “I couldn’t resist the chance to see how the Solstice celebration unfolds this year. I’m sure it’s a spectacle.”

Feyre laughed, the sound brightening the room. “You’re always welcome here, you know that. Though I’m not sure how many updates I can give you on Vassa’s curse tonight; it seems everyone’s a little preoccupied.” Her gaze drifted briefly to Nesta, who still lingered in the shadows, clutching her wine glass as if it were a lifeline.

Lucien followed her glance, concern flickering across his features. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” he said, shifting the focus back to Feyre. “I just thought we could catch up without the pomp and circumstance for once.”

“Good luck with that,” Jurian quipped, throwing a mischievous look at Lucien. “With the way this place operates, it’s hard to avoid the pomp.”

Nesta stood there, the laughter and conversation swirling around her like an unwelcoming tide. The warmth of the gathering felt distant, as if she were watching a play unfold from behind a glass wall, untouched and unseen. She tried to focus on Lucien’s banter with Feyre, the way Vassa’s laughter lit up the room, even Jurian’s teasing quips, but each sound faded into a dull hum in her ears. It was as if she had stepped into a dream where everything was slightly out of focus, and she found herself unable to connect to any of it.

She nursed her glass of wine, the liquid swirling slowly, mirroring the tumult in her mind. What did it matter? What did any of this matter? She had poured so much of herself into trying to fit in, to prove that she was worthy of being among them, yet here she was again—isolated, on the fringes of the celebration. Perhaps she had been foolish to think this Solstice would be different. Deep down, she knew it was an illusion, a fragile hope that would shatter with the first unkind word or glance.

With a resigned sigh, she contemplated the possibility of slipping away unnoticed, concocting an excuse to retreat to the solitude of her own room, where the memories of this night would not haunt her. Cassian might be angry later, perhaps hurt that she chose to vanish rather than face whatever emotional turbulence lingered in the air. But did she care? The thought of enduring another moment of forced cheerfulness felt like a weight on her chest, suffocating and unbearable.

As she watched the lively scene unfold—a group of friends lost in their own joy—she felt like a ghost lingering in a place she once wished to belong. Maybe it was better this way. The less she involved herself, the less it would hurt when she inevitably felt the sting of rejection. She could finish her wine, slip away into the night, and leave them to their laughter and festivities. They wouldn’t miss her. After all, how could they? She was still just the girl who stood in the shadows, nursing her glass, far removed from the warmth of their embrace.

As Nesta continued to brood in her corner, the noise of the celebration seemed to fade, absorbed by the swirling thoughts in her mind. She almost didn’t notice when Vassa appeared beside her until the sound of her voice broke through the haze. “Why aren’t you enjoying the festivities with everyone else?” Vassa asked, her tone dripping with a playful sarcasm that caught Nesta off guard.

Startled, Nesta turned to face Vassa, her heart quickening for a moment before the familiar irritation settled in. “What is there to enjoy besides this wine?” she scoffed, her bitterness lacing her words like the sharpness of the wine itself. The flicker of vulnerability she had been struggling to suppress threatened to spill over, and she clenched her jaw to maintain her composure.

Vassa raised her own glass in a mock toast, the corners of her mouth curving into a wry smile. “True,” she admitted, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “This wine does have its merits.” There was an understanding in her gaze, a recognition of the weight that sometimes settled heavily on those who stood apart from the jubilance surrounding them.

As the atmosphere continued to hum with life, Nesta and Vassa shared a brief moment of camaraderie in their solitude, but it was short-lived. Jurian sauntered over, his presence commanding as he approached the two women with a knowing grin. “What are you two doing just sitting over here all alone?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. There was a teasing glint in his eyes, as if he could sense the weight of their unspoken thoughts.

Vassa turned to him with an exaggerated sigh, a playful glimmer dancing in her expression. “It was quite nice over here, you know,” she replied, her tone light but laced with sarcasm. “That is, until you arrived.” She lifted her glass, the amber liquid catching the light as she took a sip, clearly unfazed by Jurian’s presence.

Jurian laughed, the sound rich and booming, as he leaned against the wall beside them. “Oh, come on. You know you love me, Vassa,” he shot back, unabashed. His grin widened as he settled in, blissfully ignorant of the tension that lingered in the air.

Vassa’s gaze drifted toward the pile of presents nestled beneath the twinkling lights, her curiosity piqued. “So, which ones are yours, Nesta? When are we opening them?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Nesta felt her stomach tighten as she shrugged, her expression unreadable. “I didn’t receive any this year,” she replied flatly, a lump forming in her throat. The words tasted bitter, a stark reminder of her isolation.

Jurian chuckled, shaking his head in mock sympathy. “Well, it seems we have that in common then,” he said, his tone light. “At least you’re not the only one left out of the festivities, eh?” There was a camaraderie in his jest, yet it felt hollow to Nesta, an unwelcome echo of her own solitude.

As she glanced back at the presents, her heart sank further. She spotted Lucien’s familiar handwriting on a few of the tags, recognizing the careful thought he had put into selecting gifts for everyone. But the absence of her name struck her as painfully obvious. It seemed everyone had received something, tokens of affection and connection that she had somehow been overlooked for. The realization tightened around her chest like a vise, and she felt her fingers tighten around her wine glass, seeking comfort in its weight.

Jurian noticed her gaze lingering on the gifts and added, “Lucien went all out this year, didn’t he? I saw him picking out presents for everyone here. You’d think he’d at least have one or two.” His voice trailed off as he observed the pile, a hint of confusion flashing in his eyes. “It’s surprising, really.”

As Nesta continued to scrutinize the pile of presents, she quickly realized something even more disheartening: none of them had Lucien’s name attached either. The thought struck her like a cold wave. “I suppose we just didn’t make the cut this year,” she said dryly, her voice laced with a bitterness that surprised even her.

Jurian let out a hearty chuckle, but it was tinged with a sympathetic undertone as he glanced at the untouched gifts. “Well, that’s a shame, isn’t it?” he replied, his smirk fading into a thoughtful expression.

Vassa nodded, her eyes shifting from the presents back to Nesta, but it was Jurian who broke the tension with a sigh. “You know,” he said, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms, “this corner isn’t so bad after all. It’s actually quite nice, especially when we can gossip about everyone else.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a mischievous grin, as if the very idea sparked a sense of mischief in him.

Nesta couldn’t help but feel a flicker of amusement at his comment, though it was short-lived. “And who exactly are we gossiping about?” she asked, arching an eyebrow, though a small part of her was grateful for the distraction from her thoughts.

Jurian leaned in closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Oh, come on. I’m sure you’ve got a few gems tucked away in that mind of yours,” he teased. “Besides, I could have sworn I heard Morrigan mention something about lingerie earlier. Care to enlighten us on what that was about?” His smirk broadened, clearly enjoying the prospect of gossiping.

Nesta felt a rush of indignation mixed with reluctant amusement. “I’d hardly call that worth discussing,” she replied, though the corners of her mouth tugged upward in spite of herself. The banter was a welcome reprieve from her earlier gloom, a momentary escape into something lighter.

“Well, if you don’t want to, I will,” Jurian insisted, leaning forward with mock seriousness.

Vassa rolled her eyes, pushing Jurian back playfully. “You know nothing of gossiping, Jurian,” she said, feigning an air of authority. “Leave it to me; I’m the expert here.” She crossed her arms, a smirk dancing on her lips as Jurian straightened up, his feigned look of submission exaggerated. “Yes, your highness,” he replied, his tone dripping with mock reverence, which only made Vassa laugh again, shaking her head at his antics.

Once the laughter subsided, Vassa turned her attention back to Nesta, her expression shifting to something more serious. “But really, Nesta,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “Cassian is your mate, right?” Her inquiry hung in the air, heavy with the unspoken complexities of their relationships.

Nesta nodded, her heart rate quickening as she braced herself for what was to come. “Is it true, then, that Morrigan asked Cassian for lingerie, and he actually got it for her?” Vassa continued, curiosity glimmering in her eyes.

Heat flooded Nesta’s cheeks at the mention, her mind racing to grasp the implications. “It was just a joke between them,” she stammered, the words spilling out faster than she could process them. “They’re family. That’s all it was.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but the flush in her face betrayed her anxiety.

Jurian chuckled, clearly amused by the direction of the conversation. “I can’t say I’ve ever exchanged lingerie with my mother or slept with her,” he quipped, his expression teasing yet genuine, as if trying to lighten the mood.

Nesta exhaled, grateful for Vassa’s understanding, but the embarrassment lingered. “It doesn’t bother me,” she said, though the heat in her cheeks lingered. “I just… I don’t know. They have their own way of joking around.”

Jurian raised an eyebrow, still smirking. “Well, that’s one way to look at it. I just can’t imagine a world where that kind of joking is normal.” He leaned back against the wall, his posture relaxed, as if reveling in the absurdity of the situation.

Vassa nudged him with her shoulder, shaking her head in amusement. “Let’s just say, not all families are alike, Jurian. Besides,” she added with a playful wink at Nesta, “it sounds like they have a unique bond. Perhaps we should take notes.”

For the first time that evening, Nesta felt a ripple of laughter building inside her, the lightheartedness of their conversation breaking through her earlier melancholy.

As the laughter continued to build, Nesta momentarily lost herself in the warmth of the moment, forgetting the weight of the earlier festivities. It was a welcome distraction, the playful banter with Vassa and Jurian allowing her to slip away from the suffocating feelings of inadequacy that had clouded her mind. But in the midst of their lighthearted exchange, she hadn’t noticed the shift that occurred just a few paces away.

Across the room, Feyre and Cassian stood together, their conversation having come to a sudden halt. Nesta could feel their gaze on her, heavy and surprised, as if they had been drawn to her laughter with the same magnetic pull that had made her feel so out of place just moments before. The look on Cassian’s face was one of genuine astonishment, his dark brows furrowing slightly, while Feyre’s expression mirrored a mix of delight and disbelief. It was as if they couldn’t reconcile the woman who was capable of such joyous laughter with the shadow they had come to expect of her.

Nesta’s heart fluttered, the mirth of the moment fading as she felt the weight of their scrutiny. She hadn’t realized that her laughter had reached them, that this small eruption of joy had surprised them so thoroughly. A strange mix of pride and embarrassment swelled within her. Did they truly not know she was capable of such a sound? Did they see her as someone who was only ever shrouded in silence and somberness?

In that moment, Nesta felt an unexpected sense of liberation wash over her. She didn’t care about the surprised expressions on Feyre and Cassian’s faces or what they might think of her laughter. All that mattered was the joy that had bubbled up from within her, a sound that felt foreign yet exhilarating. The weight of solitude that had clung to her for so long began to lift, replaced by a warmth that radiated through her, illuminating the dark corners of her mind.

She had laughed. Not a practiced smile or a forced chuckle, but a genuine, unrestrained laugh that echoed through the room. It was a sound of joy, of connection, of a momentary escape from the burdens she had carried. In that laughter, she felt the threads of loneliness unraveling, each giggle releasing a fragment of the isolation that had once suffocated her. For the first time in what felt like ages, Nesta didn’t feel alone; she was surrounded by people who were laughing with her, sharing in the lightness of the moment.

[doumadono]

Warnings: graphic descriptions of amputation, blood and gore, a dash of dark humour at the very end, viking themes, mentions of sacrifices

A/N: this original story was commissioned by @amelia-quining on my Ko-fi page. Thank you once again for trusting me with your request. I really hope this little fic meets your expectations ���

KO-FI COMMISSIONS

In the far reaches of the north of Sweden, nestled amidst towering firs, rugged cliffs and ancient stones, lay the Viking settlement of Hurgå, where the chill winds carried whispers of ancient gods and forgotten rituals. 

Hurgå was a quaint settlement nestled amidst the rugged terrain of the northern lands. Surrounded by dense forests and towering mountains, it exuded an aura of rugged beauty and ancient mystique. The village consisted of sturdy wooden structures, their roofs adorned with thatch, blending seamlessly with the natural landscape. Narrow dirt paths wound their way between the buildings, lined with wildflowers and patches of vibrant greenery.

In the heart of Hurgå, overlooking the settlement square, stood a modest yet revered structure: the temple dedicated to the glory of Odin, the Allfather.  Built with sturdy timber and adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes from ancient legends, the temple served as a focal point for the spiritual life of the community.

Hurgå was a place of untamed beauty and unyielding harshness, where the whispers of ancient gods still lingered in the crisp mountain air, and where the people revered the old ways with unwavering devotion.

Among them was Åse. 

The girl, in her mid-20s, possessed a striking appearance that captivated those around her. Her long, lustrous ginger hair cascaded down her back, framing her delicate features. Emerald eyes sparkled with intelligence and depth, drawing others into their gaze. Freckles adorned her nose and cheeks like constellations against her porcelain skin, as pale as moonlight, that felt soft and smooth to the touch, like freshly fallen snow. Despite her slender frame and lack of height, there was an undeniable allure to her presence, and many young men found themselves enchanted by her beauty, but alas, their affections remained unrequited. As a devout priestess of Odin, her heart belonged solely to her divine calling, and no earthly suitor could sway her dedication.

Åse was not like the other women of Hurgå. While they busied themselves with domestic chores and tending to the hearth, she sought knowledge and enlightenment in the shadow of the temple built for the glory of Allfather. Her dreams were filled with visions of the future, and she longed to become a seer, a vessel through which Odin's will could be known.

During the summer solstice, when the boundaries between the hominal realm and the divine were said to blur, Åse made the pilgrimage to Uppsala, the sacred center of worship for the northern tribes. There, amidst the throngs of pilgrims and the intoxicating scent of burning incense, she partook in the sacred rituals and consumed the potent hallucinogenic brew offered by the temple priests that would allow her to transcend the mortal realm.

As Åse consumed the potent hallucinogenic brew, the world around her began to shift and warp, blurring the lines between reality and the ethereal. Colors danced before her eyes, swirling and merging into intricate patterns that seemed to pulse with life. Her senses heightened, and she felt as though she were being pulled into another realm.

In her trance, Åse found herself standing in a vast, mist-shrouded forest. The air was thick with the scent of pine and soggy earth, and a sense of ancient wisdom seemed to permeate the very atmosphere. As she walked deeper into the forest, she felt a presence watching her, a powerful and otherworldly presence that seemed to emanate from the very trees themselves.

Amidst the haze, a figure began to materialize before her. He stood tall and imposing, his form wreathed in ethereal light. His features were sharp and regal, with piercing eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of the ages. Though she had never beheld a man so fine in her life, she felt an unmistakable sense of recognition, as if she had known him in some distant time or place. It was him. It was the Allfather.

With a voice barely above a whisper, the girl spoke, her words tinged with gratitude. "Thank you, my lord," she murmured, her voice barely audible amidst the swirling energies of the trance. "For your guidance and your presence in my mere life."

"Daughter of the north," the man spoke, his voice resonating with power. "You have come seeking knowledge and guidance. Ask, and I shall provide."

"Great Allfather," Åse began, her words echoing in the sacred space. "I seek your knowledge and your blessing. I wish to become a seer, to dedicate myself fully to your teachings and to serve you with all that I am."

When he spoke, his voice was like thunder rolling across the heavens, yet infused with a gentle warmth that enveloped Åse like a comforting embrace. "My child," he replied, his words resonating deep within her soul, "Your heart is pure, and your spirit is strong. I grant you my blessing and the gift of sight. May you use it wisely, and may your visions guide you on the path of enlightenment."

With those words, Åse felt a profound sense of connection to the divine. 

Odin's voice echoed in her mind once again, his gaze piercing through her very soul. "But such power comes at a price. Will you prove yourself worthy, my child?"

With unwavering determination, Åse knelt before the man, her heart pounding with anticipation. "I am all yours to command, Allfather," she declared, her voice resolute. 

"To wield such power, one must prove themselves worthy," the god intoned, his one-eyed gaze piercing into Åse's very soul. "Are you prepared to make the necessary sacrifice?"

Åse's heart pounded in her chest as she contemplated the weight of Odin's words. This was no simple bargain; it was a test of her dedication and resolve. But deep within her, she felt a stirring, a flicker of determination that burned brighter with each passing moment. "I am," she declared, her voice steady despite the tremble in her limbs. "I will give all that I am, if it means serving you, Allfather."

A solemn nod from Odin confirmed her choice, his presence seeming to fill all of her being with an otherworldly aura. "Then let it be done," he commanded, his tone both solemn and commanding.

Suddenly, Åse's vision blurred and the world around her seemed to fade into darkness. She felt herself falling, tumbling into a black abyss of oblivion, her senses overwhelmed by the weight of her decision. Time lost its meaning as she drifted in the void, her mind awash with visions of the future and the divine presence of the Allfather.

When she finally awoke, it was with a sense of disorientation, her head swimming with dizziness. But even as she struggled to steady herself, there was a newfound certainty burning within her soul. She knew, without a doubt, that what she had experienced was real, as real as her own flesh.

Determined to fulfill her destiny, Åse made her way to the highest priest of Uppsala, her steps unsteady but resolute. 

Odin's temple in Uppsala stood as a grand testament to the reverence and awe inspired by the ancient deity. The temple itself was a structure of grandeur and majesty, constructed of sturdy timber beams and adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes from Norse mythology. Massive wooden doors, carved with symbols of Odin's authority, guarded the entrance, inviting only the most devout worshippers to pass through.

Inside, the temple's interior was bathed in the warm glow of flickering torches, casting dancing shadows across the polished stone floors. The air was heavy with the scent of burning incense, mingling with the earthy aroma of the surrounding forest.

At the heart of the temple stood a great altar, adorned with offerings of mead, bread, and other treasures laid out as gifts to the Allfather. Above it, a towering statue of Odin loomed, his piercing gaze seeming to follow the movements of those who entered.

Around the altar, worshippers gathered in reverent silence, their faces upturned in prayer and supplication. The atmosphere was charged with a palpable sense of reverence and devotion as pilgrims sought to commune with the divine and receive the blessings of the Allfather.

As Åse entered the sacred halls of the temple, she soon was led to the back of the temple by an elder woman, and upon entering the chamber of the highest priest, she felt meaningless.

The priest, adorned in ceremonial robes and wreathed in the flickering light of candles, regarded her with solemn gravity. "Åse," he intoned, his voice a low rumble that echoed off the stone walls of the chamber. 

Surprised by the priest's knowledge of her name, the long-haired girl furrowed her ginger brow in confusion. "How do you know my name?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

The priest regarded her with a knowing gaze. "Child," he said, his voice grave and solemn, "The Allfather sees all and knows all. He has watched over you since the day you were born, guiding your footsteps and weaving the tapestry of your destiny, leading you to this exact place."

Åse's eyes widened in astonishment at his words, a shiver coursing down her spine. "The Allfather..." the ginger murmured, her mind reeling with the implications of his revelation.

The priest nodded solemnly, his expression unreadable. "Indeed," he replied. "He has chosen you for a great purpose, Åse. Embrace your destiny, for it is a path that few are privileged to walk. Now, tell me, my child, what did you see in your vision?”

She recounted her vision. With each word, she felt the weight of her commitment grow heavier, yet she knew that she was ready to embrace whatever fate awaited her. She had never felt so chosen, yet the weight of her destiny felt heavy upon her shoulders, so she regarded the man’s words with a single nod.

"You have come seeking the blessing of the Allfather, but know that the path you tread is one of great peril."

Åse nodded, her gaze steady as she met the priest's solemn gaze. "I understand, honored one. I am prepared to make this sacrifice."

The priest inclined his head in acknowledgment, his expression grave. "Very well. You understand the magnitude of what you are about to undertake. This path is one of solitude and sacrifice, and none may accompany you on your journey."

Åse swallowed hard, steeling herself for the ordeal ahead. "I will not falter," she vowed, her voice ringing with pure determination. "I will see this through to the end."

“What did you offer to Odin himself in exchange for his favor?" the priest inquired, his voice low and grave.

Åse squared her shoulders, meeting the man's gaze with determination. "I offered my left arm," she replied, her voice steady despite the tremor in her heart.

The man placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch a silent benediction. "May the gods grant you strength and wisdom in the trials ahead. You walk a path that few dare to tread, but know that you do so with their blessing."

The priest's movements were deliberate as he approached a small box resting on the desk, surrounded by flickering candles. With a solemn air, he opened the lid, revealing the sacrificial knife nestled within. The blade gleamed in the dim light, its sharp edge catching the glow of the candles.

Carefully, the man lifted the knife from the box, wrapping it in a linen cloth before handing it to Åse. "This is the tool of your sacrifice," he said, his voice low and solemn. "To fulfill your oath to Odin, you must wield it with purpose and conviction."

He placed the knife gently into Åse's open hands, his touch reverent. "Remember, Åse," he continued, his words weighted with significance, "The sacrifice you make tomorrow will bind you to Odin's will for eternity. Use the blade wisely, for it is a symbol of your destiny."

On a crisp dawn, Åse knelt before the towering statue of Odin, her heart pounding with anticipation. She was about to make the ultimate sacrifice, a testament to her love and devotion. Clad in a simple white shift, her left arm was bare, the spot where it would be severed was marked with a rune of courage.

Åse began her prayer, her voice echoing in the silent temple.

“Hinn almáttki Óðinn, Alföðr, heyr minn bæn. Veit mér styrk og hugrekki til að takast á við þessa áskorun, til að fórna af sjálfum mér í þínu nafni."

Åse's fingers wrapped around the sacrificial knife, its weight heavy in her palm. 

The blade gleamed with a deadly sheen, its edge honed to a razor-sharpness that promised swift and merciless precision. Adorned with ancient runes, the handle pulsed with an otherworldly energy, each symbol whispering secrets of power and sacrifice. It was a weapon of old, forged in the fires of tradition and steeped in the blood of ages past. And now, it awaited its next offering, hungry for the flesh that would feed its ancient hunger.

With a steady hand, Åse tested the blade's edge, marveling at its keenness as it sliced effortlessly through the skin on the pad of her left index finger. Åse hissed as the sharp blade met her skin, a bead of crimson welling up from the shallow cut. The sting of pain was sharp and quick, but she gritted her teeth and pushed through it, her determination unwavering. This sacrifice was necessary, a small price to pay for the knowledge and power she sought.

As she prepared herself for the task ahead, Åse knew that this blade held the key to her destiny. With its bite, she would carve her path into the annals of history, marking herself as a vessel for the divine will. And though her heart trembled with fear, her resolve remained unshaken, for she understood the importance of the sacrifice that lay before her.

She hadn't conducted any prior research, but fortunately, one of her closest friends, Helga, had assisted a healer back in Hurgå. Åse had witnessed a few instances where limbs were amputated due to the severe injuries sustained by their warriors in battles against Christians or other settlements.

Åse scolded herself inwardly, chastising her own hesitance. "Foolish," she thought, a twinge of uncertainty began to creep into the recesses of her mind, gnawing at her resolve like a relentless predator stalking its prey. "Every moment wasted is another moment of doubt and hesitation. Allfather awaits my sacrifice, and I cannot afford to falter now."

Gripping the sacrificial knife tightly in her hand, she positioned it just at the crook of her left elbow. Her emerald eyes shone with anticipation. With a shaky exhale, she pressed the blade against her skin, feeling the cold steel bite into her flesh with a sickening crunch. 

The first incision was precise, the sharp edge of the blade slicing effortlessly through the layers of dermis and epidermis. A jolt of excruciating pain shot through her arm, causing her to scream in the overwhelming agony. Sweat beaded on her ginger brow as she fought to steady her trembling hand, each movement of the blade sending shockwaves of torment coursing through her body. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she summoned every ounce of determination she possessed and began to saw through her flesh.

As the blade penetrated deeper, the resistance was greater, the tissue denser, but the blade pressed on, its edge biting into the flesh with a relentless determination.

A white-hot agony threatened to overwhelm her completely.

With each sawing motion, Åse felt a searing pain shoot through her arm, radiating outward from the point of contact. The nerves screamed in protest as the blade severed them, sending waves of agony coursing through her body. Blood welled up from the wound, flowing freely down her arm and pooling on the ground below.

As the blade cut through muscle and sinew with alarming ease, Åse could feel the resistance give way, the tissue parting like silk under the blade. The sound of tearing flesh filled the air, accompanied by the sickening sensation of her own thick blood coating her skin.

With each agonizing cut, she felt a piece of herself being torn away, sacrificed in the name of her destiny. The sound of her own labored breathing filled the air, punctuated by the wet, guttural sound of flesh being torn asunder. Her entire being was screaming in protest as she fought to keep moving. 

The metallic tang of blood filled the air, mingling with the acrid scent of burning incense. Her hands slick with blood as she worked to complete the grisly task. 

With a steady hand, the ginger girl applied more pressure to the blade. There was a sickening sensation as the blade sliced through muscles and tendon, but she pushed past it. With a deft movement, she twisted the knife, using its keen edge to pry apart the joint.

Finally, with a final, decisive stroke, there was a soft pop as the joint gave way, and Åse's arm fell down to the floor with a sickening thud, leaving a gaping wound in its wake. Blood poured from the stump, staining the ground and her robes crimson as Åse crumpled to the floor to her knees, her vision swimming with pain and dizziness, her body wracked with pain and exhaustion. She had done it. She had made the ultimate sacrifice.

In that moment, she felt a surge of power unlike anything she had ever known, and she knew that the Allfather was offering her a gift beyond imagining. And then a shroud of darkness descended upon her, swallowing her whole.

Åse didn't know how long she had been unconscious, or if she had crossed the threshold into death itself. 

Slowly, she opened her eyes, blinking against the sudden brightness that stung her vision. Blinking away the discomfort, she took in her surroundings, and realized she was lying on a small bed, adorned with furs. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the pungent aroma of mead.

After a few moments of disorientation, Åse tentatively turned her head to the left. With hesitant movements, she lifted the fur covering her upper shoulder, revealing the neatly wrapped bandages that concealed the absence of her forearm. The absence of her limb sent a shiver down her spine, yet she could still feel its phantom presence, a sensation that made her gasp. 

Tears welled in her eyes once more as she gently laid her head back against the pillow. "Thank you, Allfather," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet chamber.

The door creaked open, and an elderly woman entered the room, carrying a bowl filled with fresh bandages. With a gentle smile, she approached Åse's bedside. "You've been unconscious for nearly two weeks, child," the woman said softly, her voice filled with concern. "Many feared you wouldn't make it.”

Åse listened in stunned silence as the woman continued, explaining that her offering had been presented at the altar of Odin and later burnt alongside other tributes. The girl then inquired about when she could return home.

The woman offered a sympathetic smile. "That depends on how quickly you recover, my dear. But rest assured, we will do everything we can to aid your healing."

Åse returned to her settlement, Hurgå, greeted by the shocked and concerned faces of her fellow villagers. Whispers spread like wildfire as people noticed her armless state, and many approached her, their voices trembling with worry.

"Åse, what happened to you? Were you attacked on your trip to Uppsala?" they asked, their eyes wide with fear.

But Åse simply smiled, her demeanor calm and serene despite the questions. "No, I wasn't attacked," she reassured them. "It was an offering I made to the Allfather."

Some of the villagers exchanged skeptical glances, murmuring amongst themselves about her supposed delusions. They couldn't fathom why she would believe that Odin would accept such a lousy sacrifice.

Yet Åse remained undeterred, her faith unwavering as she returned to her daily life, determined to fulfill her destiny, no matter the cost.

Her best friend, Helga, rushed to greet Åse as well as soon as she spotted her. Her eyes widened in shock as she took in Åse's armless form, unable to hide her dismay. “Åse, what happened to you, sweetie?!" 

The ginger slowly nodded her head. "Well, you know how I've always been a bit too giving," she joked, a wry smile playing on her lips. "I guess I just gave a little too much this time,” she let out a soft chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood despite the gravity of her situation.

Helga shook her head in disbelief, struggling to find the right words to express her shock, shaking her head dismissively. "I... I don't know what to say," she stammered, at a loss for words. "You've always been the crazy one," the other woman murmured, her voice tinged with emotion. "But I'm glad you're back, Åse. I missed you.”

Åse gave her friend a genuine smile. "Don't worry about it, Helga," she said with a reassuring smile. "I just made a sacrifice for something greater. It's all part of my journey."

And though some may have viewed her sacrifice with horror or pity, Åse wore her scar with pride, a testament to her unwavering devotion to the gods. 

To Åse, the absence of her arm wasn't a sorrowful event, but a mark of pride, a testament to her commitment to Odin and her readiness to give for a noble cause. As she faced the days ahead with a clearer vision and renewed resolve, she understood that her decision was one she'd never rue. By sacrificing a piece of herself, she'd acquired something profound - a bond with the divine and a destiny that would guide her path forevermore.