#dryad x human | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bvidzsoo · 14 days

Text

Color of love

The third star of Cosmically divine...

☆ Author: bvidzsoo

☆ Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x female reader

☆ Warning: smut, breeding kink (?), possessiveness, mentions of abuse and enslaving, violence

☆ Word count: 12.3k

☆ Rating: nsfw, mature

☆ Genre: Greek mythology, Hongjoong is Hermes and MC is Iris, fated to be together au

☆ Summary: If there was a God everyone feared, perhaps it was Zeus. After the continuous abuse he's put you through, you never thought you'd get to live your eternal life peacefully. That is, until the messenger God shows up and whisks you away before Zeus can see and stop him.

☆ A/N: Helloo, my lovelies!! ^^ I am back and all fresh to continue my Greek series, memory refreshed of the places that our story takes place at. All villages mentioned in this part are very real places and I decided to use them, since I now know Greek people also read this series, I hope I have done justice with the descriptions and please forgive me if I messed up anything, but I did take some creative liberty (mythology included!) Surprisingly, I don't have much to yap about right now, except that while writing this I derailed a bit from the initial plot I had constructed lmao but it's actually good because it tied everything nicely together. The taglist is still open, so lmk if you want to be added to it. I appreciate all your feedback, so let me know what you thought of Hongjoong's part! ^^ Enjoy, and here's a glossary before you start reading:

★ This is inspired by Greek mythology, but I took creative liberty and adapted it to my likes, so keep that in mind while reading, thank you! ★ Hermes is considered the herald of the gods, but is also a messenger God ★ Iris is the the personification of the rainbow and messenger of the gods, a servant to the Olympians and especially Queen Hera ★ talaria are winged sandals ★ petasos is a wide-brimmed hat with a conical crown worn in ancient Greece ★ Zeus is the god of the sky and is considered the ruler, protector, and father of all gods and humans ★ Hera is the goddess of marriage, family, childbirth, and women, known as the queen of the gods ★ Aphrodite is the Goddess of love, beauty, desire, and all aspects of sexuality ★ Dryad is a tree nymph ★ Hades is the God of the underworld ★ Selene is the is the goddess and personification of the Moon ★ Helios is the god representing the sun ★ Isis is the goddess of healing and magic ★ Underworld is a distinct realm where an individual goes after death ★ Cerberus often referred to as the hound of Hades, is a multi-headed dog that guards the gates of the Underworld ★ Ano Skotina, Palaioi Poroi, Palaios Panteleimonas are villages in the Olympic Riviera and are situated on the mountain side ★ Dion is a village and municipal unit in the municipality of Dion-Olympos in the Pieria regional unit, Greece; it's known for its sanctuary of Zeus and its ancient city (definitely give it a visit if you're in the area!) ocean divider; greek divider

☆ Taglist: @patchofblue @sthwaaberry @constipatedcorgi @holytidalwavechees3cake @cheolliehugs

@slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @hoeforsungie @skittyneos @mingheol @sebastianswhore13

@astral-trashcan

༄ ҉ Series m.list ༄ ҉ 　★ previous star ★

Alongside the mountain range of Olympus lays more than one beautiful settlement, some so breathtakingly magnificent that one would dare say the Gods themselves have crafted them. It goes without saying that it wasn’t them, but perhaps the humans that have constructed such roads and buildings were momentarily blessed by Hephaestus to wield their instruments the same way he wields his, with the same precision and perfection, building a haven for those who sought a refuge and a place to which they belonged. The lush green mountain range held more than one hidden village from the prying eyes of those wandering through the forest or the inhabitants of the bustling town of Dion, and these small settlements also offered refuge to those who desperately needed one. Right underneath the noses of the Olympian Gods, blessed but also scrutinized and often forgotten about, nobody would’ve thought to look for the two that held so much power in their pale hands, their bodies frail-looking but everlasting. The earthlings of Ano Skotina were unassuming and comprehensive of the two strangers who ran down the cobblestone-covered paths with baited breaths and soaked to the bone by the heavy rain, yet despite the oddness of their appearance and mumbled speeches, the villagers offered the two wandering souls fresh meal, a warm bath, and a house that they could call theirs. It almost felt like a distant memory now, something that happened centuries ago when, in fact, it was merely a few years back, when Zeus’ rage was still fresh and unforgiving as it mercilessly outlashed the mortals that worshipped him so much.

With the disappearance of Iris from Olympus, the Gods felt restless and uncertain, however, no matter how much Zeus scattered them out to search for his beloved seer, no God or Goddess has ever found her. But she was right under their noses, albeit tucked away in a safe place and surrounded by mortals who loved her and worshipped her unknowingly of her real self and status. The tall pinecone trees mixed with those specific to the climate had turned a sharper and more brilliant green compared to their colour before the two strangers decided to settle down in the quiet village, and after every rain, there was a rainbow. The children of the village would giggle and squeal whenever it appeared in the blue sky as they tried to chase its end, leaving a bright smile on my face as I tinkered around my humble abode, waiting for my lover to return.

The villagers of Ano Skotina were pleasant people, and once they warmed up to the newcomers, they included them in every tradition they had, often showering them with goods they didn’t need anymore. Despite looking as human as possible, there was something unearthly about the two newcomers, their auras bright and light, demanding a certain devotion that many in Olympus lacked. It had been hard at first to get used to the kindness and good deeds that seemingly followed every person here, but at last, I learned and realized that not everyone wished ill on their peer, nor did they expect anything in return if they did something for you.

At first, I had felt ungrateful towards their kindness as I found myself unknowing of the customs of the earthlings. Despite being a messenger, I never quite learned their ways and patterns. But they were understanding and chalked it up to me being peculiar, special, and a little different from them and never made me feel excluded when something was new and I didn’t understand the process of it. Hermes was doing better by my side, he accommodated faster, but that was to be expected. He’s been amongst mortals for longer than me, disguising himself as one as it came as second nature to him. Despite the range of our powers, neither Hermes nor I were blessed with the feat of turning ourselves completely human, and thus, I couldn’t help but blame it on a natural wonder and a blessing made by a Goddess when I was just a child that my hair changed its colour every season. During the colder days, it would turn into an ashen brown, slowly turning into a warm caramel colour as the sun returned. When it got so warm that not even the shade of the tall trees could shelter me from the sizzling sunrays, my hair turned a reddish hue, until it faded into a light brown when the leaves started falling once again. The mortals never said anything, never accused me of anything, but it was easy to tell that they knew something was amiss, that it had to do something with the divine. Perhaps that also prompted them to be kinder and gentler towards me, oftentimes noticeable just how squeamish I was around everyone besides my saviour. His name, the one that the mortals so feverishly worshipped, was Hermes, but the one they unassumingly called out as if he were a friend to them was Hongjoong. I, myself, found the later version of his name more comforting, friendlier, and for once not a reminder of everything I had to endure in Olympus at the hands of Zeus.

The night had been serene when we blew out the last candle and made our way to our shared bed, the covers cold until our ghastly bodies warmed them up, hushed whispers and giggles leaving our reddish lips until we became enraptured by the night and the dreams it brought upon once our minds and souls calmed and admitted defeat to the simple feat of exhaustion. Wrapped in the arms of my lover nothing and nobody could hurt me, I knew I was safe and far away from the very God that called himself our father and protector. But there were nights when my dreams were clouded with visions, making my sleep restless and terrifying. Some visions that came to me would be bright and of great news, and some would be foreboding and dark, petrifying.

At first, when the bright moonlight coming through the opened curtains slowly faded into permeating darkness, I thought it must have been the rainclouds covering the beautiful celestial, but with the appearance of the gut-twisting feeling low in my stomach, I knew something was amiss. The house was eerily quiet and I was alone, no longer in the safe and strong arms of my lover. My feet were cold as I carefully left the confines of my bedroom, the floorboards wet and slippery in an uncharacteristic way. Perhaps Hongjoong had visited Poseidon and brought the seawater inside our house, perhaps the rain was so harsh it settled and flooded our house. But the absence of the pitter-patter of the rain against the roof of the cottage was enough to confirm that it wasn’t raining, and with the talaria not in its place, I also knew Hongjoong wasn’t home.

The quiet hiss behind me and the fear spreading through my body warned me that this wasn’t my reality, that I had been sucked into a vision while unconscious. Most of my visions happened when I was asleep, when my mind was at rest and open to receiving whatever the Cosmos wanted to alert me of, but if the situation was dire, I could force myself into a state of consciousness too to see such visions. Rarely, but it’s been happening more often since I have descended into the human realm, I would get snippets of the future if I touched certain objects or even mortals, visions that usually bore good news. And so, without my consciousness stirring me awake to interrupt the vision, I turned to face the hissing animal behind me. A long and dark green snake was slowly slithering towards me, menacing as it opened its mouth and showed its poisonous fangs. A snake couldn’t kill me, I was immortal after all, but it certainly could harm this human body I was forced to inhibit in this realm.

But the ground shook and the sky cleared once again, the scenery different to where my unconscious body lay peacefully in the arms of my lover. The pinecone trees twisted and turned around me, caging me in as the snake came menacingly close, and I raised my head to look at the moon but it was absent. I was deep in the forest, I could hear the hushed whispers of the Dryads, the concern and fear in their voices. The snake rose off the ground and gave one last hiss before it lunged towards me, my legs apparently frozen in place as I couldn’t jump away or even run off. But before it could sink its teeth into my pale and frail skin, an eagle’s scream was loud and warning as it suddenly gripped the snake in its sharp claws and yanked it away from my body, taking it far away as it flew off into the permeating darkness. The Dryads haven’t stopped whispering, and while their mutters remained intangible, they became louder and more urgent. My legs stopped feeling like lead and I took a tentative step in the direction I hoped the cobble path was and would lead me back to the village, but a shadow darker than darkness itself seeped between the trees as if it was mist, encompassing the forest.

There was a scream in the distance and sudden terror gripped at my throat, my body locking up as I stared into the silver orbs that now seemed to be blocking my every-way, watching me almost tauntingly. I couldn’t breathe as my lungs seized, and I clawed at my throat, but the pressure only worsened, my body shaking from fear and the lack of oxygen. My vision became hazy as creepy laughter echoed around me, a terrifyingly familiar voice, a voice that I loathed with my whole being. I was succumbing to the greater force the more seconds ticked by, but before my eyes could roll to the back of my mind and allow my body to crumble to the cold floor of the forest, a face so clear it managed to make me gasp appeared in front of my face.

The man’s face was simply gorgeous, tanned from the sun and defined at the jaw with a nose that few bore around these parts. His eyes were uneven but sharp, and his pretty lips formed a word I couldn’t understand just yet. My ears were ringing louder than the person’s words, but the more my eyes bore into the stranger’s terrified ones, the clearer everything once again became.

“Run!” His shrill voice was raspy as I was forcefully shoved back and I stumbled for a moment until I regained my bearings.

I could move, I could hear, I could feel.

My body trembled as that familiar cackle echoed around me once again, and I realized the gorgeous stranger was one of the Dryads who whispered in the trees. He looked more scared than I had ever felt, and with a hand reaching out for him desperately to pull him with myself, my feet kicked off before the cold darkness could touch my skin.

And then, as quickly as it came, the vision was gone. I was shaken awake by the frantic calls of my name and warm hands that gripped my arms with tremors. “Y/N! My beloved, please, Y/N. Iris, please, wake up!”

My eyes slowly fluttered open and I realized the curtains were still drawn apart to allow the moonlight inside, to honour Selene and perhaps greet her when she passed on the sky with her chariot. Even if one could hide from Zeus, Selene and Helios saw and knew everything. But my vision was soon obscured by two bright eyes, an amber nobody else I knew had as they shook in fright and bore into mine, searching for anything wrong. My body felt tense and my throat a little parched, but other than that, I was alright. I knew I had been dreaming, I knew a vision came to me, but everything felt wrong. There was something just not right about the vision, about the way it occurred, about the man that showed itself to me. It took me a few seconds to register everything I had seen, and soon, my eyes were just as glazed over with fear as Hongjoong’s. I shot up and cradled my knees to my chest as Hongjoong settled down behind me, reluctant to touch me as he exhaled shakily.

“My beloved, what is the matter?” He questioned quietly, his voice pained, “I cannot help if you don’t talk to me. Was it another night terror, Iris?”

I gulped and my arms tightened around my legs a little bit more, “A vision, Hermes, an omen. Something bad is about to happen, he’s coming for me.”

There was rustling behind me and then I felt the press of a firm chest against my back, strong arms wrapping around my middle to pull me back into the warm body of my lover. I sighed, but my muscles remained tense as I tried to shake away the lingering feelings of the vision. Somebody was out there to get me. Somebody sent by Zeus, once again, and they were close, too close for comfort. The snake almost managed to touch me, perhaps it represented the mortal or traitor, even, that Zeus had sent. I wouldn’t put it past him to send the dirtiest of those that he had once cast away to bring me back to him so that he could enslave me once again.

“Nothing bad will happen, Y/N,” Hongjoong whispered as his chin came to rest on my shoulder. He turned his head and his soft brown hair tickled my cheek in the process, “You are with me and I will do everything to keep you safe, I have promised. No, I have sworn on my immortality, I’ll never let him find you, my beloved.”

Hongjoong’s tone was soft and tender as his fingers gripped my sheer nightgown tightly, pressing his front to the back of my body as tightly as he could, his hot lips brushing against my ear almost teasingly. I gulped, remembering the fear in the Dryad’s eyes too vividly, it had felt too real. I couldn’t even tell if he was part of the vision or if he had managed to cause a rift in the Cosmos to consciously warn me of the danger that was now closer than ever before. We’ve managed to stay hidden for so long, the fear of losing my freedom again was all-consuming and terrifying.

“The Dryad was terrified,” I whispered as my eyes coated over with the remnants of the vision, hard to erase such a look from my mind, “I don’t even think he was part of my vision. There was an eagle too in my dream, Hongjoong.”

My lover’s gulp was audible and I turned my face to face his, prompting Hongjoong to lean back just a bit so that we could stare into each other’s eyes. Suddenly, a soft smile graced his lips and my heartbeat picked up just a little bit, my tense muscles finally easing and letting me become putty in Hongjoong’s comforting embrace.

“He won’t touch you.” There was a menace in his tone, warning and promising of pain, his eyes glazed over with fire for a second, memories taking him away from me, but Hongjoong quickly returned as his eyes cleared, tone more passionate than before, “If there’s anyone that can keep you captive, then that’s me because I’ll forever treat you with respect and love, care and tenderness. I’ll be your slave if that’s what you want me to be, I’ll prove to you again and again how devoted I am, I’ll treat you like a Queen if that’s who you want to be, Y/N. But most of all, I’ll run until the end of Earth for you if that means I can keep you safe, I’ll run and never stop. I’ll never step foot into Olympus ever again if that keeps you safe from those tyrants.”

“Don’t say that.” I whispered as Hongjoong’s left arm untangled from around my torso so that he could cup my cheek, “With me gone, it’s already hard for everyone to keep up. I’m making you do all the work by yourself, it’s unfair. If you’ll be gone too, I fear our fates will be dire once we are discovered.”

“I know more than he’ll ever know, Y/N, I carry all secrets and strategies. If he tries to separate us or threatens to turn us into stars, I’ll know how to corner him.” A smirk that would frighten any mortal crossed Hongjoong’s lips, “And I will threaten to throw him off if he doesn’t back off.”

I knew no matter what I said to my lover his resolve wouldn’t break, it was of no use trying to convince Hongjoong that if he went against Zeus he most certainly would perish. No matter how much you knew, not even his own weaknesses could stop the God, he was the father of us all after all, and Hongjoong was merely a deity that had more power and free will than those unlucky like me.

“I love you.” The confession bubbled past my quivering lips, and I watched Hongjoong’s Adam's Apple bob up and down as he swallowed, eyes darkening with want and fire that was perfectly reflected in his amber irises. Our human bodies were more fragile than our godly forms, they felt everything so much deeper, so much more passionately. I couldn’t help but succumb to the fire that licked at my skin as our warm lips pressed together, hungry and never satiated with the other as Hongjoong gently grabbed my hips and manoeuvred me around until I was sat atop him. Our lips smacked together with a languid pace and our teeth clumsily clanked together whenever one of us bit the other’s bottom lip eagerly, my long fingers finding purchase in Hongjoong’s wavy strands as his calloused hands guided my core over his clothed member. The soft fabric of his sleepwear was thin and hid nothing as he grunted at the first drag of my hips forward and back, making me eagerly swallow the sounds he was making. One warm hand settled on my thigh, underneath my nightgown, and slowly bunched up the fabric until it rested just above my hips.

Desire licked at my insides as hotness spread through my body, cheeks flushed as Hongjoong’s hands traced invisible patterns into my skin, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps as they slowly slithered towards my lower back, digging into my flesh. I sighed against his mouth before pulling back to tilt his head back and press kisses against his well-defined jaw, the moonlight making his appearance godlier than he ever was in his deity form. I moaned against his simmering skin as his nails dug into the flesh of my bottom, heat pooling in my lower stomach as he pressed me down just harder on his clothed member, drawing out a moan from both of us as my bare core ground right on top of it. The wetness between my legs only became more prominent and I bit into the flesh of his neck, making Hongjoong’s head fall back as he breathed through his mouth loudly, a whine falling past them every time I sucked a little harder, every time I let him drag my core over his hard member, hot despite the fabric separating us.

“I love you.” He gasped into the silence as his hands settled on my thighs again, my hips moving on their own as the friction had started feeling too good to stop, leaving a dark patch on his light-coloured trousers, which mixed with his own precum. I pressed a long kiss against his lips as I fiddled with the hem of his trousers and hastily pulled them down, freeing his member as I eagerly aligned myself up with it, our eyes meeting before I sunk on it. Hongjoong’s grip tightened on my thighs and he whimpered as I hugged him close to my body, fingers tangling into his hair once again, offering an anchor as my walls clamped down on his length. Hongjoong was safe, home was where he was, and I never wished to be anywhere else but in his arms. He saw past my gift and looked at my soul, he appreciated me and worshipped me for who I truly was and not for why everyone seemed to want me. Just a seer, a lowly deity that was able to glance into the future and sometimes the present. Hongjoong never demanded of me to look into his future, to spy on a vision for him, he only asked me to love him back. But he didn’t have to ask, I had always known if there was any mortal or deity I could love, it was him.

The muscles of my thighs tensed as I tentatively rose before sinking back down on his dick, making Hongjoong groan as he leaned back to support himself with one hand, bracing my hip with his other as he gently guided me. I let my hands rest on his shoulders as he snapped his hips upwards and ripped a moan out of me, making me meet his thrusts eagerly as our movements synced up, the slapping sounds became louder and louder in the confinement of our bedroom as we both lost each other to the feeling of overwhelming lust and love, the desire to possess and be possessed, to belong to someone, to love and be loved.

But life had not always been like this. For centuries and centuries, it hadn’t been like this but full of torment, pain, and demands that seemingly never came to an end. Everyone always wanted something from me, they always took and took, but they never gave back anything. I understood my role in the Cosmos, and as the bearer of messages between the mortals and Gods, I knew I had to be flexible and report whenever I was needed. I had to prioritize my purpose and place everyone above myself, it’s just how nature worked. And it had been alright, I felt most fulfilled when I was doing what my calling was, when I was guiding Gods and mortals alike, stringing them onto the right path headed towards a bright future. But I was naïve and careless, I hadn’t realized that once the knowledge of the full extent of my powers fell into the wrong hands it would be exploited, that it would turn against me and hurt me in the process. Glancing into the future, predicting silly things like the weather, and warning mortals of floods or wildfires soon turned into commands and demands of looking into the fate of a disobeying God or Goddess, into spying on those that dared turn against Zeus, of migraine after migraine when I was at my wit's end, begging to be left alone to recharge and step away from the visions.

Zeus was unforgiving and violent, greedy and desperate to control everything and everyone around him. When the word of me being a seer got to him, my freedom was stripped and I never saw the sunlight unless I had orders to deliver a message. My visions became constant because I just had to do what he told me if I didn’t want to turn into a star, and my body and mind were exhausted. I couldn’t sleep, sometimes I would get stuck in a vision for weeks on end, unable to break free, becoming a prisoner of my own mind. It was terrifying and excruciatingly painful; I couldn’t tell whether I was still alive or not. It was silly, a deity never dies as long as it has worshippers, but my soul felt so tired I wished all mortals would drop dead so that my existence would cease too.

Zeus hid me away from everyone, he lied to Hera that I decided to reside on a secluded island down amongst the humans and wished not to be spoken to or reached out to unless the message was time-bound and very important. I had been an important messenger of Hera, and my heart broke when I felt her trust and respect in me vane, but what hurt, even more, was that she never questioned her lover, that she never actually tried to look for me and see if the God was indeed saying the truth. What hurt the most, even in my deity form, was that nobody actually cared enough about me to come and rescue me from the terrorizing clutches of Zeus, that nobody loved and respected me to save me from the torment I had to go through for centuries on end. Everything hurt, even speaking and sleeping, I was nothing but a shell of what I once used to be. Zeus never cared, he just wanted the visions, he threw me around until the physical pain became so unbearable that I just had to scavenge my mind for even a trace of a vision. I became scared of my own power, of what he’d to do me if I didn’t learn how to control it better.

And then one night, or day I couldn’t tell, as I lay exhausted on the cold marble floor of the room Zeus had imprisoned me into, there was a whoosh of a breeze inside and the shatter of a vase. I had no idea what’s happened, I couldn’t see quite right and my head was pounding, covering everything in an unclear haze. But something metallic was hurled underneath my long fingers and when my index finger curiously poked against it a vision so sudden and harsh that it knocked the wind out of my lungs clouded my eyes with flashes of a handsome and somewhat familiar face, smile mischievous yet menacing, his amber eyes ablaze and raging. I had known of him, of course, I have, but we’ve never quite crossed paths, so it was bizarre to get a vision so suddenly of Hermes. It wasn’t even Zeus asking me to look into him, I wasn’t even forcing my mind and soul to connect with it, it just came by itself. Tears flooded my unseeing eyes at the feeling and I tried not to sob upon realizing that my soul was still somewhat aligned with the Cosmos despite how much I’ve forced myself to see and hear everything, having broken the order of the Universe.

And the vision of Hermes persisted for months on end, until, the marble door separating me from freedom was blown into bits and pieces and the God rushed inside with flushed cheeks and a ragged breath. He said nothing as he scooped me up in his arms, lips hot as they pressed against my cold forehead, and for the first time since my existence, my heart started beating in an uneven pattern, fingers digging into the silky fabric of his shirt as I begged him to save me. Hermes looked angry, but not at me, he looked at me with pity in his eyes but said nothing as he broke the glass of the window with the heel of his foot. I couldn’t remember much as I lost consciousness after that, but I felt the wind blow around us harshly as we fell freely, descending into a realm that was familiar yet new, a cocoon of lush green trees and springs that were clearer than the sky and sun hotter than the rays in Olympus, a place that soon became our new home.

The paths leading down the mountain range were soon after our arrival covered in cobblestones, creating an easy and clear passage for the villagers of Ano Skotina, Palaioi Poroi and Palaios Panteleimonas down to Dion, which resided at the foothill of Mount Olympus. The villagers had put in hard work once Hermes brought up his idea, and with his help, it only took the men a few weeks to construct the paths and connect the otherwise strenuous trek for the villagers if they wished to travel between the settlements. But with our arrival it seemed that the fauna and flora flourished more than before, the villagers became livelier and eagerly awaited the appearance of a rainbow which hadn’t been spotted in ages by the mortals.

Having been saved from the clutches of Zeus, I was finally regaining myself. Hongjoong stood by my side every single step of the journey and he offered a helping hand when it all became too much and too exhausting. He hid me away from all the deities and promised to settle down in a village where Zeus would never find us. We couldn’t go far from Olympus as he still had to fulfil his duties, but with me gone, Zeus had no insight into anyone, he wouldn’t know who had stolen his slave away from him.

But even if we were hiding in plain sight, we’d never be safe from him.

On the days that the Gods and Goddesses were too busy bickering with each other, forgetting all about their worshippers, the sky seemed to be clearer and a lighter blue. On days like that it was safe for me to leave the confines of Ano Skotina and hike down to Dion with Hongjoong. I loved days like this because as much as I was scared of Zeus finding us, I loved the loudness of the bustling town, the liveliness and eagerness on the faces of mortals, and most importantly, I loved the market where we could trade fresh flowers and fruits. If the weather deemed good and the deities remained preoccupied with their selfish deeds, Hongjoong and I would follow the path down to the sea and dip in the warm but refreshing water. Poseidon wasn’t always around, busy with his errands, so, it was safe to explore the beautiful sea in his absence.

Given our origins, it took Hongjoong and me around an hour to descend from the mountainside down into the town, our talaria polished and well-kept. We hid them in Hongjoong’s satchel as soon as we neared the closest settlement to avoid being discovered by the humans. Sneaking around always brought a little sense of excitement, of my blood boiling hotter and my heart pumping faster, only heightened when Hongjoong would playfully chase me down the cobblestone-covered paths inside of Dion, heads turning our way as they watched on curiously. There wasn’t a day where boredom could threaten to kidnap me if Hongjoong was around, he’s had plenty of time to observe the earthlings and find out what would be amusing and help the time pass by faster. Not that I wished for that to happen, I cherished every second I spent next to Hongjoong, clinging to him despite our unlimited time.

Being with him had always felt right, from the very moment he lifted me in his arms to save me from Zeus. There was something about his eyes that assured me that we were right for each other, that it was written in the stars, that my suffering for so long wasn’t fruitless. He had known he had to save me when he accidentally caught a glimpse of me through the barely open door of my cell-like room, Zeus’ voice booming as he demanded a vision from me before he could send Hermes on his way to deliver his message. He had returned just days later and snuck inside my room to assess the situation, accidentally knocked over a vase when he heard someone approach the door, then fled through the open window. He couldn’t return for months; Zeus was suspicious of him and he was scared if he was caught we’d both perish. But he remained vigilant and at last came back for me.

I made sure to remain close to Hongjoong’s side as the market was packed with more people than usual this afternoon, our pinkies reaching out for each other whenever the other strayed closer. He was discussing something I couldn’t hear with a blacksmith, wondering whether he had more metal to trade with him as my attention remained on the flower stall and the lovely old lady who always had the brightest smile on her face. Her grey strands were beautiful and highlighted her age nicely, and despite her late age, her demeanour was just as youthful as a child’s.

When our eyes met, she beckoned me over with a happy look on her face. Casting Hongjoong a quick glance to make sure he hadn’t moved away yet, I made my way over to the vendor and bowed my head in greetings, “My dear! I haven’t seen you in too long, I was worried about you.”

“My apologies for worrying you, kind soul, I haven’t been able to leave my village.” I kept my answer as vague as possible as her eyebrows furrowed in slight worry. Lately, the deities were busy watching over their desperate worshippers so I couldn’t risk my safety and cover.

“That boy of yours isn’t keeping you captive, is he?” Her eyes narrowed as my cheeks flushed and I quickly shook my head, not keen on her choice of words. I hated hearing anything that had a connection to captivity, and just the thought of Hongjoong keeping me as his prisoner was disgusting and infuriating.

“He would never,” My voice was harsher than intended, “He cherishes me more than anyone ever has.”

“Good, good.” The vendor muttered as her features relaxed once again, “Would you like some pomegranates? I traded them just this morning, I hear they’ve been blessed by Aphrodite herself. Perhaps they’ll make me look youthful once again.”

The old lady giggled as she grabbed the fruit and extended her hand towards me, making my muscles tense at the mention of the deity. If it truly had been blessed by the Goddess I didn’t want to touch it, let alone eat it. She hadn’t been the kindest to me in our years of knowing each other, and despite knowing that Zeus held me in a chamber as his slave, she never said anything to anyone.

“Thank you, but I must refuse you. I do not have anything to trade it with.” The vendor shrugged and put the fruit away, her fingers grazing against the petals of a sunflower. My eyes followed the action and I yearned to do the same, the yellowness of the flower reminded me of my own rainbow’s colour. It had been a while since I had brought upon the earth a rainbow, I missed its beauty and comforting colours.

“Your scarf seems to be made of silk,” The old lady hummed as she eyed me curiously, “I’ll give you a bouquet of sunflowers if you trade it with me, I know they are your favourite flowers.”

I gulped and gripped the scarf, pondering whether it was worth trading something of high value with something that had little value. But the piece of fabric held no sentimental value to me and autumn would be soon approaching, the old lady needed the scarf more than I did for her body was weaker than mine will ever be. And she was right, I did love sunflowers, it’s been too long since I could hold them in my hands, so, I nodded and untied the scarf from around my neck.

“You’ll seriously trade that beautiful piece for sunflowers?” The vendor next to the old lady asked with scepticism, a dark-haired woman with bushy eyebrows and greediness that wasn’t missed by the mortals either. The old lady ignored her as she tied a big bouquet together for me, happy to trade them.

“I can find many more scarves like this one, but summer is soon ending and I’ll have to wait a long time until sunflowers bloom again,” I answered with a soft smile and took the flowers after I handed over my scarf. The old lady took her time to examine it carefully and I glanced behind myself to see where Hongjoong was. He had moved on to another stall and he was surrounded by several men now as they conversed animatedly, his face bright under the sunlight and amber eyes glinting with interest.

“You have such little value for your possessions.” The other vendor grumbled, and the old lady laughed as she shook her head at the younger woman. I said nothing as I cradled the bouquet against my chest, looking down at the flowers to examine them. Its petals were soft between my fingertips and I took note that its hue was much more vibrant than the colour in my own rainbow, perhaps I could make mine more prominent too.

“The only possession I want to have is over my beloved, nothing else matters to me.”

“Oh, to be young and completely enraptured with a man.” The old lady mused with a knowing look on her face once I looked up at her, my cheeks dusted pink as I realized I had spoken my mind too freely, “I haven’t seen a pair as devoted as you two are to each other.”

“There must be some, I cannot imagine not loving with your whole soul and being—”

“Love is just a fairytale the deities made up to wrangle us around by the nose and manipulate us into doing whatever they want.” The other vendor lady snapped as she interrupted me, and my eyebrows furrowed at her harsh words. Certainly, if any deity were to hear her, her place in the Underworld would be assured and arranged to be painful. The old lady hissed and gave the other vendor an irritated look.

“Quit being so pessimistic, especially to such a young soul.” Before the other vendor could say anything else, the old lady faced me with a curious look, “You must be coming tonight to the offering, right? Zeus will bless you and then you will never part from your lover, he’s great like that.”

Zeus was anything but great, but I didn’t want to ruin the lady’s image of the deity. If I were a maiden praying to Zeus to watch over my lover, he’d rather take me as his lover than offer us his protection. Zeus was horrible like that. But the thought of him made me shiver and I tried to ignore my tensing muscles. I had no idea it was already that time of the month, Hongjoong must’ve forgotten too, otherwise, we would’ve never come down to Dion today of all days.

“I’m afraid I won’t be joining you tonight, I haven’t been feeling well these past few days.” A curious look crossed both of the ladies' eyes and I gulped nervously as I started feeling jittery. I realized I had conversed with them for too long and it was time I returned to the safety of Hongjoong, where nobody would bother me anymore or ask questions.

“You must be with child, then.” The younger vendor declared and my eyebrows furrowed as I cast a glance at her. I most certainly wasn’t with child, I would’ve felt it, but if that lie helped stop more curious questions, then I would take it.

“I am not sure, but perhaps I am,” I answered and the old lady gasped, eyes falling to my belly.

“That is great news, indeed! May the child have your peculiar hair colour and his father’s beautiful eyes.” She wished earnestly and I smiled, feeling just a little bit guilty that Hongjoong and I weren’t actually expecting a child anytime soon. But I blinked my eyes faster and looked down abashed, resisting the urge to shuffle my feet. Deciding that I should return to my lover’s side now, I bid the two vendors my sincerest goodbyes and turned around to search the crowd for Hongjoong. He was a couple of steps away, doing the same, and his eyes lit up when they found me. He had a wide grin on his lips and he waved his fingers playfully as he took off towards me, his steps bouncy and giddy. I chuckled and stopped to let him reach me first, but as I did so, a child narrowly avoided colliding with me as his warm skin brushed against my hand.

The sudden change of scenery managed to knock the wind from my lungs as I gasped and looked around, the market was eerily empty and the sun was hidden behind clouds as suddenly it started becoming darker and darker outside. White mist left my lips as I breathed through my mouth loudly, the temperature having severely dropped made me shiver in my summer gown, head whipping around as I searched for another living soul. But there was no one, not even Hongjoong, and I clenched my palms into fists when I heard the hauntingly familiar cackle once again. The Dryads weren’t here whispering again and I wondered if I’d see the young man once again, if he’d come to warn me again. But nothing happened until an eagle screamed in the distance and then a dark shadow appeared just by the entrance to the market. Its features were unrecognizable, but it towered over the gate as its silver orbs vibrated, looking wildly my way. I gasped and tried to take steps backwards, but I was trapped once again. I felt warm hands touching my arms, a muffled voice worriedly calling my name and something wet pressing against my cheek. The darkness persisted, however, and the shadow cackled once again as the eagle screamed and was suddenly plummeting down towards me, sharp claws drawn and beak parting. But before it could touch me, rip me apart, my eyes flew open.

The loudness of the market made my head thump in pain and I realized I was clutching onto Hongjoong’s shirt tightly as I tried to regain my breathing. My eyes searched to crowd frantically for the shadow, but also to make sure nobody saw my episode. Hongjoong’s arms were warm and slightly trembling as they pulled me into a tight embrace, his lips pressing against my temple as he sighed loudly, “You’re alright, I got you. Let’s head back home, my beloved.”

I nodded wordlessly as Hongjoong took my hand in his and manoeuvred us around the crowd, making sure nobody familiar ran into us so that we’d be able to leave faster. I appreciated his attentiveness as I followed after him, my fingers tightening against his as the crowd was slowly vanning out the closer we reached the end of the town. His features softened once he slowed down to let me fall in step with him, and I raised our joined hands to press a kiss against his hand, “Thank you.”

He said nothing but his amber eyes turned warmer as red swirled behind his irises, his wavy brown hair falling into his eyes and making him look boyish. I chuckled and pressed up on my tiptoes to steal a kiss from Hongjoong, making his eyes widen as a man had just passed us on his horse, his lips widening into an amused smile at our display of affection. I knew my lover was blushing red when he turned his head away, but he squeezed my hand once to let me know he appreciated the gesture, “I saw him again, the shadow, the darkness, the eagle. You know it’s Zeu—”

“Do not speak his name.” Hongjoong cut me off roughly, all previous warmth gone from his features as he faced me abruptly, “Don’t say it, Y/N, I hate it when you do. I hate him, and everything he’s done to you. You are safe with me and nothing will happen to you, I have sworn and I will keep swearing.”

“I know,” I muttered, gulping nervously as I averted my eyes, “but the visions never lie, my love, he’s close, I am not safe anymore.”

I tried not to yelp when suddenly two warm palms cradled my cheeks and yanked me close to Hongjoong’s face, his ablaze eyes boring into mine with fury and determination, “You are mine and if anyone, mortal or deity, touches you, I will burn them until nothing’s left of them. You have suffered enough, I will not let anyone take advantage of you ever again, Iris, it’s over.”

My eyes fluttered closed as my heart thumped wildly, and I leaned forward to press a lasting kiss against Hongjoong’s lips, who pressed his body incredibly close to mine, “You wear my petasos, my beloved, everyone knows you’re mine. Everyone knows what will happen to them if they try to claim you, I won’t allow it anymore.”

His voice was deeper as he spoke up once our lips weren’t pressing against each other and I licked my lips as I nodded, smoothing out the creases between his eyebrows. A silly thought came to mind as Hongjoong’s eyes searched my face and I chuckled as I leaned so close my lips brushed against his when I spoke again, “The vendor ladies think I am with child.”

Hongjoong’s breath stuttered and his pupils dilated as one of his hands grabbed my hips, pressing my body painfully so into his, “Perhaps you should be with child, my beloved.”

“Do you want that?” I asked in a whisper, throat feeling dry as I tried to ignore the fire spreading through my body. This greedy little human body could be so lustful.

“Yes, I want you full of my seed and belly round and pretty.” Hongjoong’s voice was deep as he answered and I had to take a second to compose myself, trying to be the bigger person right now. It wouldn’t be the first time things got a little bit out of hand while we were in public, and I didn’t want something as mortifying to happen again. Last time we were lucky the unfortunate soul who saw us in a scandalous predicament had been an older lady and her husband, both understanding and giggling as they rushed away from the scene. Truthfully, we could’ve picked a more secluded spot and the back of a bar that was often frequented.

“We’re being indecent, Hongjoong.”

“Then let me take you home and show you just how much I want you to carry our child.”

“Hongjoong.”

One of us had to attend the offering, it was inevitable, and since nobody knew of my location but with Hermes still around, it wasn’t a question that it would be him who would descent to Dion tonight and bring a small flower crown made from my sunflowers and the neighbour’s weeds as his own offering. As a deity, we didn’t have to attend such worshipping customs, but since we were disguising ourselves as mortals it would look suspicious if we didn’t tag along from time to time. I never showed my face around when they were bringing offerings to Zeus as he often liked to disguise himself and come down, watch his loyal followers, and even take maidens to bed and spread his bloodline, but when they would show gratitude for Isis, I made sure to tag along. A deity recognized a deity even in disguise, and despite her catching me at her altar more than once, she never said anything. She could feel my pain, she could see past my smile and looked into my battered soul. She was sensitive and kind, instead of bringing me to Zeus, she blessed me and healed my wounds so that nothing could hurt me so horrendously ever again.

Once we had gotten back from Dion, Hongjoong was busy showing me just how much he really wanted me to carry our child, very reluctant to leave the bed to get ready for the night. I knew he didn’t want to go, he knew I didn’t want to be left alone tonight out of all nights, but we also both knew that we did not have a choice. Deities rarely had a choice, the greater good just always seemed to call out to us. But still, I helped him bathe and dress up, I cooked him a warm dinner and braided little strands of his soft hair while he was busy chiselling his talaria, his petasos already pristine, the leather smelling fresh and feeling soft under the skin.

“Are you certain I must go?” Hongjoong asked with a sigh once he was done with his talaria, eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at me. I ran my fingers through his hair and ruffled the strands that fell into his eyes.

“Yes, my love, you must.” I hummed quietly and Hongjoong sighed long, “We hadn’t attended the offerings in a while, the townsfolk will get suspicious of us at this rate and I quite like this place.”

“I like it here too, it’s serene.” He hummed absentmindedly and I stepped back to let him wear his winged sandals, raising to his feet to test out their agility. He was fast, as always, in good shape and ready to tackle the night’s challenges. I smiled at him proudly as he came to stand in front of me, hands settling on my hips as he licked his lips and looked down at my mouth, “If anything feels wrong, go over to Mr. Do, he will keep you company.”

“I don’t think poor old Mr. Do will be able to tackle a god like Zeus if he shows up,” I said with a chuckle as I circled my arms around Hongjoong’s shoulders, standing on my tiptoes to reach his face better. He chuckled as his eyes searched my face, the amber swirling as fear made its way shown, “I will be alright, Hongjoong, don’t you worry.”

“Of course you will be.” He answered with a scoff as if Zeus showing up was such an impossible feat, “And when I return, I will show you once again just how eager I am to have you with child, to spend the rest of my eternity with you and our son or daughter. I want them to have your kindness and faith, and I want them to have my determination and strength.”

“Aren’t you thinking a bit far ahead, my love?” I asked with a snicker as Hongjoong pouted and shook his head.

“Of course I’m not, my beloved, the seed has been planted, we both felt it.” Hongjoong lowered his face and I watched as his lips parted, “The shift in the Universe has happened, the stars aligned for our love once again, Y/N.”

“We’ve been blessed.” I whispered and tangled my fingers in the hair at his nape, pushing Hongjoong’s face closer to mine, “I am fully yours now.”

“You’ve always been fully mine,” Hongjoong’s voice dropped as his fingers dug into my skin through the fabric of my gown, “only mine.”

I hummed and leaned my head back as his warm lips pressed against mine, instantly eager as they pressed together firmly and forcefully, asking me to part my lips for him. Hongjoong moaned when my tongue dragged against his, coaxing him in deeper as our saliva mixed and tongues brushed together, lighting my skin on fire. My heart pumped faster and my skin jittered, hushed voices and hazy orbs fluttering behind my eyes as a vision threatened to kidnap me from this moment. But I stopped it, I wanted to enjoy the touch of my lover, the sounds of my lover, as I knew the darkness would be back if I were to succumb to the greater force.

Our pace was languid as Hongjoong dragged each kiss out, sucking on my bottom lip before he’d dive right back in, sucking on my tongue too and making me whimper as my hand found an anchor in his nape, holding him as if I were afraid he’d pull back too soon. But he didn’t, he soaked up in the sounds and only kissed me more desperately, pulling back for air when it became too much for our human bodies. I was breathing hard and Hongjoong struggled to even out his pants, our foreheads pressing together as he cleared his throat once and then twice. He licked his lips and then pursed them, fingers twitching as he raised his hands to cup my cheeks, “I wish to return earlier tonight, I’m not done with you yet, Y/N. I have figured if I go earlier and stay for a shorter amount of time it should be fine, Zeus will want me to report back to him so I’ll try to make my journey as fast as possible.”

“I’ll be right here so don’t rush yourself, I don’t want anything to happen to you,” I said worriedly as we untangled from each other, I tried to smooth out the knots I created in Hongjoong’s hair. His outfit remained spotless, the black fabric tight and secure around his strong and well-built body, hugging him snuggly in places that wouldn’t restrict his movement.

“I’m too restless to remain until the end of the festivity either way,” Hongjoong shrugged and kissed my cheek before he went to grab his petasos, “Go to Mr. Do if anything feels even a little bit wrong.”

“I will, I promise.” I smiled reassuringly as my lover headed for the front door, pausing to turn back around with a worrisome look on his face. I knew he was reluctant to go, but he had no choice. One of us had to go and it was him, it was always him, he’d have to report back to Olympus either way and he was right, the quicker he got over with everything, the faster he could return to me. But as soon as the door closed behind me and I was left alone in our safe abode, dark visions clouded my eyes and sent me tumbling to the floor.

The evening had been harsh to me, the visions seemed to turn only darker as the hours passed by, taunting me. It felt as if I wasn’t in control anymore, as if it was someone else controlling what I saw. My heart pumped fast and my head thumped wildly making my ears ring, and I felt boneless as I tried to stand from the chair I managed to drag myself into. My sight was hazy as I felt around the table for the glass of spring water Hongjoong and I had collected earlier this day, but I failed to reach the cool glass and thus gave up as a harsh wave of nausea almost made me gag. I had never reacted to my abilities so harshly, I couldn’t determine whether it was worrisome or not that my body was having such visceral reactions to the darkness that seemed to linger in the corner of my eyes.

I knew that I was alone in the house and that my visions were tricking me into believing someone was watching me from the shadows, candles unlit as I found the task too strenuous to do with my current state. It all felt too real, it made me scared of how easily my body was succumbing to the terror-filled memories that followed my bodily reactions. It wasn’t the first time my body threatened to shut down, but it’s been far too long since I had felt so sick. It made me remember my captivity and everything I had to endure at Zeus’ hands when he pushed my body over the limit and forced me to become nothing but a vessel that relayed the visions of a seer. I was scared because Hongjoong wasn’t here and because I couldn’t figure out just exactly what was triggering this reaction. All of Isis’ blessings seemed futile all of a sudden, and I found myself wondering whether I could ask the Goddess for guidance and help in dire need, a beckon of light to help me survive until Hongjoong returned and figured out a way to stop my suffering.

But I remembered that Mr. Do was a healer of sorts, a little too old and grumpy, but the villagers loved him and trusted him with their lives countless times before, I have seen it firsthand. Hongjoong and he seemed to have a mutual respect and a deeper understanding of the other’s force that I failed to see and sense. And despite every muscle and joint in my body protesting when I finally pushed myself up into a standing position, I found Hongjoong’s deep trust in the old man a reassuring thought that pushed me to take action and bring myself to the old man’s doorstep, perhaps he knew how to fix this. I had barely reached the front door of my house when my muscles locked up as if they sensed danger, my skin tingling in a way only around another deity it did. But I was alone inside the house, it made no sense, perhaps my seer abilities became uncontrollable and started lashing out in peculiar ways.

I swung the door open, finding the task difficult as my body vehemently tried to disobey my mind’s commands, and despite the haze that clouded my sight, Mr. Do’s small frame not even a few steps away was unmistakable. I hadn’t noticed, but the wind was howling as it bent the weaker branches of trees in odd ways and not one candle was lit inside the neighbouring huts. Cold darkness wrapped around us and I shuddered as it bit at my skin mercilessly, “Mr. Do?”

My voice sounded breathless and pained and my eyebrows furrowed as the older man stepped closer so that I could see him clearly, “Oh, you look sickly, my dear. Let’s head inside.”

I couldn’t find it in myself to object and stepped back inside my house as Mr. Do followed, his height shorter than my lover’s. It seemed to be relatively warmer inside the house, but I still shuddered as I brought the shawl tighter around my shoulders, pressing my nose against the fabric as it smelled like Hongjoong. It brought little comfort, but I relished in it as I willed my sight to clear, at least that little if nothing else seemed to be right with me. Mr. Do seemed curious as his eyes searched the place and I watched him with slight confusion, wondering if it’s been too long since he’d stepped inside our house. But it looked as it always did, the interior hadn’t changed since last week when Hongjoong insisted on having the old man over for dinner as a payment for his kindness after he healed Hongjoong’s broken fingers. It was a freak accident; one he couldn’t heal down here unless he wanted to be caught by the mortals.

“What is bothering you, my dear?” The warm smile felt wrong on Mr. Do’s face, he was someone who never smiled nor showed affection, his face a mask of coldness and uninterest. He never used nicknames and he had never once in his life before directly addressed me. Mr. Do seemed to be afraid to say my name for some reason and he always brought pastries whenever there was a rainbow in the sky, that’s the most emotion he had ever shown. That’s how I knew he didn’t completely mistrust me or hate me. This man standing in front of me was not Mr. Do. But it was too late now, I had already welcomed him inside. I quickly realized that despite his disguise, he couldn’t hide his godly aura, the faint glow around his body or the respect it demanded.

“Why are you here?” Despite my voice being faint, it carried conviction, and braveness, “What do you want?”

“My little seer back.” The man disguised as Mr. Do chuckled and walked further inside the house, walking around as he touched vases and ornaments that clearly belonged to Hermes, “You must understand my utter shock when I found out she was gone. My utter anger and annoyance when I searched for her relentlessly and she was just gone as if swallowed by the earth itself. I assumed it was Hades at first, we know how he likes to play me and taunt me, but when I found him gone from his kingdom and meddling with humans from far away times, I realized something more peculiar had happened.”

I didn’t dare speak up as Zeus walked closer, the face of Mr. Do scrunching up as he tsked, “Imagine my utter confusion and rage when I find out Hermes, my precious messenger and guide, decided to settle amongst the mortals. Not only did I lose my seer, but my messenger too.”

“Hermes never stopped serving you.” My voice was harsh as I willed the bile down my throat and blinked my eyes quickly to try and get rid of the haze, which was very possibly induced by Zeus himself. I understood why my body lashed out like this, it sensed danger and it was warning me. But it was too late now, I had walked myself into Zeus’ trap.

“He didn’t, you are right, little seer, but he also started slacking off.” He scoffed and I gulped as I remained put, my feet frozen to the floor, “You must imagine I assumed he was frolicking with the mortals at first, but then certain inaccuracies just stopped making sense, you see. I have other means of looking into my little deities, Iris, I don’t need you—”

“Then why did you keep me for so long?” My voice raised as my sight finally cleared and I was able to glare at Mr. Do’s serene face, fire and anger replacing my fear as I stared the God down, “If you don’t need me, why did you subject me to so much strenuous work and pain? Why did you force me to seek and seek without break, to bend myself and ruin who I once was?”

“The secret to being a deity is so simple, my little seer,” Zeus’ voice was quiet as he walked even closer, eyebrows slightly furrowed, “We are just like these mortals that worship us, we are greedy and selfish and we take without consideration, we possess and we demand, we punish and we slay, so, what sets us apart from them?”

“Immortality, lack of morals and care of those around us,” I whispered, unable to gulp down the lump in my throat anymore as my heart raced faster, ears starting to ring once again.

“Power, abilities that mortals will never have, is what sets us apart, Iris—or should I call you Y/N, now?” Mr. Do chuckled but his voice sounded distorted. My muscles tensed when his short frame suddenly grew taller, towering over me menacingly, “This is why you are such an insignificant deity to most, you are too soft, you love and want to be loved. You wish to belong to someone and to possess someone, it makes you weak. You act more like a mortal than a Goddess.”

“I never felt like I belonged in Olympus,” My face became hard as my eyes narrowed, unafraid to speak my mind for once. A surge of anger pushed me to speak my mind, to stand up for myself and demand the respect I was never given, “I was always pushed away by my kin, made fun of and ostracized. Your own lovely wife made me a slave of hers, and then you. You look down on me and judge me, but you wish to possess just as much as I do, if not more.”

The God remained silent as his jaw ticked and Mr. Do’s face formed into an unfamiliar shape, features mixing with familiar faces, but still unknown. It didn’t stop shifting as Zeus’ eyes bore into mine and it felt like the air was ripped from my lungs as they started squeezing in on itself, choking me as I fell to the side, clutching onto the table tightly.

“I want to punish you direly for thinking you could abandon your ruler, Iris, I really do wish.” His voice was a dark hiss as I tried to breathe, but couldn’t, “But you’re too precious to be turned into foam or a star, Hermes, however, I know just the perfect way to make him suffer for his insubordination.”

My eyes widened at the mention of Hongjoong and I tried to speak, but I couldn’t as dark spots started colouring my vision. I tried to object and scream, but no word left my mouth as I scrapped at my throat in despair while Zeus watched on with an amused expression. He loved seeing his toys fret and beg for mercy, he loved feeling like the King he was, able to rule over everyone and decide everyone’s fate. But before my misery could continue, the door of the house was slammed open and loud panting filled the house.

“I forgot my satchel—” Hongjoong’s breathless words caught in his throat as suddenly the airflow was back in my lungs and I started coughing loudly as my knees gave out and sent me tumbling to the floor. Hongjoong was by my side in an instant, body hot and skin sizzling as he grabbed my cheeks and forced my head up. His amber eyes were almost fully red as he searched for visible injuries and his jaw ticked as he turned his head to face Zeus. He had a vicious look in his eyes and he almost but spat in front of the God as his voice thundered in the confined space, “What are you doing here?!”

“I came for what’s mine—” The laugh that left Hongjoong’s mouth was guttural and it made me shiver as my frantic eyes looked at my lover with despair, begging him to remain level-headed so that he wouldn’t ruin his chances of survival furthermore.

“What’s yours?” Hongjoong spat, eyes falling on me once again to make sure I was alright. He gulped as he cradled my cheeks and I opened my mouth to beg him to stop and walk away, but lips pressed against mine firmly before I was staring back into his wild amber eyes once again. He had made up his mind, and I could do nothing to convince him to stop, to think through whatever action he took next. He was here to protect me and if that meant he’d lose his life in the process, he didn’t care. He had sworn to protect me and I knew he’d do no less than that, “Enlighten me, Zeus, what’s yours again?”

The God seemed appalled by the way Hongjoong spoke to him, face contorting into disgust as he watched my quivering form and Hongjoong’s protective stance as he stood up and shielded me from the God’s furious eyes, “Iris is what’s mine, you fool. I will feed you to Cerberus if you utter one more word—”

But Hongjoong was reckless and he didn’t care as he threw his head back to laugh loudly, hysterically, and I clutched the trousers at his ankle and yanked on them to get him to stop, but he was gone, far gone. He’d go to unimaginable lengths to protect what was his and not even his lover could stop him anymore.

“Cerberus would hack me back up if he were to swallow me, don’t be foolish you old man.” Hongjoong tsked as if he was scrutinizing a child and my heart raced in fear for him, “Besides, Hades likes me too much to let me perish, after all, I make his job a lot easier with all the souls that I carry for him to the gates of the Underworld.”

Zeus hissed and stepped closer, hands balling up into fists. I took notice of the wind picking up frighteningly so outside, to the point it rattled the hinges of the windows, and I could only pray the other villagers wouldn’t be affected by Zeus’ wrath. They haven’t been anything but kind and loving to us, I would never forgive myself if anything were to happen to them.

“Before you destroy this lovely village,” Hongjoong seemed to be thinking the same as he smirked, the look on his face eerie as red swarmed around in his dark irises, overshadowing its beautiful caramel hue, “I must inform you that I have claimed Iris and she has claimed me, so you cannot touch neither one of us, you old fool.”

My cheeks heated despite the predicament and I gulped when deafening silence followed, the wind suddenly disappearing. My heart raced in my chest and it felt like it had ascended into my throat as I felt Hongjoong’s hands around my forearms, helping me up to stand next to him. His smirk remained frightening to any mortal, but the mischievous glint in his eyes told me that he was in control, that the odds were for once in our favour as he smoothed my hair down for me, “And since you are the one that loves to make up foolish rules for your peasants to follow, do I need to remind you what it means when a deity claims someone?”

Zeus just gulped, eyes darting between me and Hongjoong, the veins underneath his skin lightning as they travelled, his eyes turning a misty grey. No one knew Zeus’ real face, but I had come close to seeing it more than once, it was ugly. It reflected the person he was on the inside; he was ugly through and through, no wonder he chose to disguise himself even between his own kin, “I can still use her abilities to my liking, Hermes, that’s not what claiming one enthrals.”

“Oh, does it not now?” Hongjoong chuckled and I felt an arm sneak around my hips until his palm pressed flatly against my belly, his bottom lip between his teeth as raised an eyebrow mockingly, “Even if the seed had been planted to bring forth a new life?”

“She’s pregnant?” Zeus’ voice raised octaves as his eyes widened comically and the fundament of the house shook as I shuddered, clutching onto Hongjoong’s arm for stability. My skin was cold and I was shivering, but Hongjoong remained like a pilar by my side, supporting me and offering me braveness.

“She is pregnant with my child, yes.” Hongjoong’s smirk spread into a wide grin that made him look crazed as his amber eyes simmered in the darkness and the ground shook again. I looked at Zeus reluctantly as I let my hand rest above Hongjoong’s, our fingers tangling together as we held onto my belly. Zeus could feel it too, the shift in the Universe and the change in the alignment of the stars, he knew Hermes and I were fated to be together; he knew if he went against the wishes of the Cosmos, it would be him paying the price and not us. I couldn’t help but huff as I suddenly felt all tension leave my muscles, serenity infusing my brain and body like never before. Hongjoong, too, knew we were safe when his offensive stance relaxed and he stood tall in contentment.

“You are both traitors.” Zeus hissed, but there was no force in his voice, only defeat and despair, “And if I can’t make you pay, the Cosmos will find ways to make you suffer for what you’ve done.”

“Is that what you say to all the mistresses you keep?” My tone was cold and unforgiving, it shocked both Hongjoong and Zeus, “I wish you nothing but an eternity of suffering and misfortune, I wish that all of your children turn on you and bring your demise like you had brought your own father’s, Zeus.”

“Did you just curse me?” His voice boomed as Hongjoong threw his head back and started cackling loudly, bringing a small smile to my lips as I chuckled.

“I am no witch, Zeus, but I believe the Cosmos works in peculiar ways.” I stopped to take a breath, to finally say what I always wished to tell him, “And just because you are supreme to all of us, it doesn’t mean you are invincible. The Cosmos doesn’t differentiate in kind.”

Somewhere in the distance, a bolt of lightning struck and a deafening roar travelled through the forest as Zeus turned into nothing but dust and charged energy, lighting our house in blinding light for a second until everything was covered in darkness and silence. I remained frozen as Hongjoong started giggling, cradling my face as he grinned at me widely, “You are the most breathtaking creature I have ever had the luck to come across, my beloved.”

“I love you too, Hongjoong.” I chuckled and let him kiss me messily before he pulled back and giggled again, unable to contain the giddiness our small victory brought upon the both of us.

“Do you think I still have to report back to him tonight?” The question made me laugh as I threw my arms around his torso and pressed my body against his, revelling in his comforting warmth as I nuzzled my nose against his neck. Hongjoong pressed a chaste kiss against the crown of my head and I melted into his arms, feeling safe and like a weight had been lifted from my chest. We would be alright for the time being, the child would be safe down between the mortals and Zeus would leave us alone for now. I couldn’t tell what the future had in store for us, at least not until a vision came to me, but I didn’t care as long as Hongjoong was by my side.

The Cosmos gifted those deserving and took from those undeserving.

❱❱ Next star

↳Perm. taglist: @orshii @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller @zuuhaa

@aaa-sia @gong-fourz @a-tinycarat @sooberryworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@anastasiamin860 @yunhogrippers @vcutparis @tunaasan @blvckarabixnvoid

@yusalterego @arigakittyo @slowee00 @jaerisdiction @hey-syia

@vnessalau @oddracha @chatsgotmytongue @potatos-on-clouds @yunhowooyo

@watermelon2319 @yoongzsmile28 @klllerwaifu @apriecotte @hwasbbyg

@kyeos4ng @samiiy20 @woosanhobros @aswho1estuff @khjoongie98

@ateez-main-yapper @kang-ulzzang @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @ginger-mingi @redzie02

@unholywriters @autieofthevalley @roomsofangel @peachyy-joonie @baeksofty

@tunafishyfishylike @syubseokie @jycas @fandom-freak-geek @intaksfav

@itswaffleberry @e3ellie @skz1-4-3 @hoe4yunho @kyeomooniee

@winklehwa @eyesonlyformingi @khjssss @torieisawesome99 @amrose8

@faeriehwa

❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

345 notes · View notes

b0xerdancer-writes · 5 months

Text

The Heir of Spring

Tamlin x Archeron!Reader

Summary: When one of Feyre's sisters' stabs Tamlin in the arm, the male took a strange liking to her, he had hoped she had been the one to kill the wolf he could love her ferocity; only she wasn't but she tracked Feyre through the woods and into the Fae realms to show up on Tamlin's doorstep. The rest is history as the two fall in love and start their own family.

Prompt: Heir Of Spring

Warnings: War, violence, blood, family disagreements, feyre and rhys slander, nesta and elain slander kind of.

Word Count: 5,402

Notes: A bit smaller but a good start to Tamlin week, this may be a thing I revisit and do a prologue or multiple parts to delving more into their day to day and relationships since this is cannon divergent and kind of an AU of what if the Spring Court didn't fall. And I felt Tamlin needed some character growth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Archeron sisters had become powerful figures before the Hybern war. The oldest a figment of death herself, The next an oracle with powerful visions, the next imbued with the powers of dryads and nymphs, and the youngest a curse breaker with a touch of every court in her blood.

Stories were told of the four sisters, how the youngest was putting her life on the line for the other three but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth; Feyre knew it but wouldn’t speak in favor of the male that had once locked her within the halls of his estate and the sister she had become estranged with.

When Feyre had first been taken to Prythian she had enjoyed Rosehall however boring it seemed to her, she had been warned about the dangers that lurked between her and her home. She had been taken aback when a loud pounding came from the door that startled both Tamlin and Lucien, Tamlin was the first at the door Lucien and herself behind the blonde male. The sister who would later be known as ‘The Dryad’ stood at the door of Rosehall, dressed in hunting furs and bloody, a head from something Feyre would only ever see in her nightmares in her hands. They had different mothers but had bonded together over their years, her mother had been a servant in the Archeron household who had been coerced into sleeping with the master of the house yet she had some of the strongest willpower around and had spent her time in the forests around their home; it paid off now in their young adult years, she had tracked many things for Feyre during Spring when mud would hide tracks.

Tamlin was stunned, that he would admit, at how this small female human had fought her way through the woods, found her way through the wall, and had fought her way to Rosehall; and by the looks of it she had taken out a naga on her own relatively recently from the scent. Tamlin was even more stunned when she tossed the head at his feet, blood splattered on his boots.

“I killed it, I hate the fae and I murdered one in cold blood. It didnt attack me and gave me no reason to murder it, just like my sister. Now you have to take me in too.” She had growled at the blonde male.

“You took out a naga?” Tamlin asked and she nodded. “By yourself?” She nodded again. “On my property?” She nodded again. “In my court?” Tamlin gaped.

“Okay then Rosebud, you are free to stay here. We were just having breakfast and I’m sure you must be hungry after a fight with a naga, so feel free to eat up. I’ll have the maids make you a room and then you are free to bathe if you wish, make yourself at home dear.” Tamlin had been truly impressed by the female in front of him, taken with her he would even admit.

She had raised her head high and waltzed right past Tamlin and Lucien only to nod at her sister in greeting. “Feyre, good to see you again.”

Feyre gawked. “What are you doing here?”

“Originally I came to save you from the jaws of a best but now I refuse to let you go through this alone.” The older female had stated matter of factly and waltzed into the dining room, Feyre at her heels.

When the two female disappeared from their view Lucien had turned to his blonde counterpart with a questioning look on his face. “Tam, pardon me for questioning you, but WHAT WAS THAT.” He whisper-screamed at the blonde.

Tamlin shrugged a smug look on his face. “I like that one, she's the one I was the one who killed Andras. She's the one I told you about.”

Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “That's the one that stabbed you with the ash dagger in your arm.”

Tamlin nodded. “Correct however you forgot the other part of it.”

Lucien sighed, already done with Tamlin’s own antics for the day. “My apologies, correction the one that stabbed you in the arm with an ash dagger and made you 99% sure she's your mate.”

Tamlin gave Lucien an offended look. “I’m not crazy Lucien. I barged into their house, completely smashed the door from its hinges, mind you, and her first instinct was to leap over a couch at me and put herself between me and her family and stab me in the arm to pull my attention to her…”

Lucien sighed and cut the older male off. “And when you did look at her you felt something similar to how the bind is rumored to feel, just dampened. I get it Tam, maybe it's just dampened because she's human?”

Tamlin nodded. “Maybe. I will just have to wait and see then.” Tamlin motioned to the dining room. “Shall we?”

Luicen snorted and started back towards the dining room, Tamlin turned and kicked the head out into his yard. Lucien was leaning smugly against the dining room door frame obviously trying to fight laughter and Tamlin found out why when he entered the dining room to find his Rosebud in his chair chowing down on the plate of bacon and pancakes he had compiled earlier before her interruption. Tamlin couldn’t be mad though, he found it adorable and he had rightly invited her into his home and to his table.

He cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attention in the room, he sent a wink towards the female in his spot and with a snap of his fingers the table added another sitting and he took his place across from the spiteful, strong willed female.

The two were a hilarious picture to Lucien, and he was sure to the mother as well if she truly did design them to be together. They were out in the meadows and she was in his face over something and Tamlin looked like a hurt puppy, Feyre had refused to join but her sister was adamant exploring her ‘prison’ as she called it.

Lucien was leaning against a tree, nose in a good book when he had heard their argument cease, he looked up just ws Tamlin was about to say something and the female with a bored expression on her face; without fail he watched Tamlin point to the moon pool beside them and her just shove the blonde male into it. Lucien had busted out into laughter and she pointed at him and then back at the lake; he raised his hands in surrender ,set his book down, and kicked off his boots. He had stepped up to her, and just as she reached out to shove him in he threw her straight into the water instead. When she finally dragged herself from the water with a pout she had pushed Lucien back in on top of Tamlin; the two males proceeded to race her back to the manor that evening after their clothes had dried, Tamlin had let her win of course by insisting she take the fastest horse.

When Rhysand had appeared the evening at the manor, Tamlin had put her under a glamor and had her behind his chair, she had clutched the same dagger she had stabbed Tamlin with tightly in her right hand and leveled her breathing, when Rhysand had found Feyre and grabbed her by her chin Tamlin had shot her a glare, still hidden under the blondes glamor, for some reason she knew what that look meant.

‘Stay hidden.’ He begged her silently in that look. ‘Don’t stab him. It will be okay.’

She had understood and focused on her breathing not giving herself away, Tamlin had put himself between her and Rhys and she found herself clutching the back of his shirt to calm herself; after the gloomy male had left she had leaned against the blonde male while catching her breath.

It had been that night after Feyre and Lucien had gone to bed that she slipped from her own room, it was grand and only one other door shared the hall with hers; the room across from hers was Tamlin’s, she knew that much for sure, as she had heard his steps and the door close late every night. She had never been a good sleeper, insomnia had haunted her since she was a child and the only thing that seemed to sooth it was nature; during the warmer seasons back home she could simply open a window but that was impossible in the winter and she had been so adjusted to her winter schedule it affected her more than normal. Any sane person, human or fae, would think her insomnia a side effect of the gloomy males appearance earlier; she didn't know quite what caused it but she did know Tamlin was affected by the same kind as her, every night just as exhaustion began she would hear Tamlin’s steps, heavy and slow, coming down the hall and disappear into his room.

Except this time instead of his steps lulling her to sleep, they never came up the stairs so she fought off the exhaustion nipping at the edges of her consciousness and slipped down the halls into his study where he had disappeared after dinner. No words were spoken as he looked up from the glass of whiskey and simply offered her her own glass, she had taken it with a nod; fire crackled in the hearth to her right and eventually Tamlin moved from his seat behind his desk to the one beside her, an unspoken understanding between them as he wrapped a fur tossed over the back of his chair over her. Eventually the two dragged themselves up the stairs and through the halls again, slipping into their rooms with a wave and nearly falling into their own beds, it was the start of an unspoken relationship and the first taste Tamlin had of who his mate truly was.

The night of calanmai had been rough, the drums and smoke called to her, she had always loved festivals and parties; and Tamlin had been cold and distant and his steps were not there to assure her everything was okay, surely he would be out all night and wouldn't care if she were to slip into his bed in search for some semblance of comfort. Tamlin’s silk sheets were cool against her skin and her own silk pajamas, she could only assume what Feyre was up to in her room; Tamlin had ordered them to stay here and as much as she wanted to disappear into the crowds of partying fae she refused, opting to cover her head with one of Tamlin’s pillows as a way to deafen herself from the calling music outside. Two mistakes had been made that night, one was Tamlin refusing to fully inform them about what Calanami was and two was the fact she had deafened herself and didnt hear those steps she had familiarized herself with coming up the stairs.

Tamlin was completely exhausted and disgusted by Calanmai, he was sure of it now, or at least that last sane part of his brain tonight was, that she was his mate; every maiden’s scent disgusted him and he had even smelled Feyre’s there it was similar to the one he wished had been there but different enough he had no urge to chase after it, he'd had an altercation with Feyre on his way back into the manor but was able to restrain himself at the thought of his mates smell lingering in the halls. It was her he wanted, not her little sister.

Tamlin wanted to just bathe and collapse into bed, his mind in a fog due to the mix of lingering magic and his senses beginning to clear. Yet when he finally clambered his way up the stairs he found himself confused that his door was cracked and a faint lamp light seeped out into the hallway, he was confident he had closed the door and shut off his lamps. He stepped into his room looking everything over and his heart nearly stopped at the sight of his female curled up in his bed, he didn't want to wake her and ruin the sight in front of him; he cursed and tiptoed into the attached bathing room, to him he still stunk if the female he had given unto his instincts with and didn’t want to disturb or disgust the female fast asleep in his bed.

His brain was on autopilot, a mix of hormones, instincts, and the slightest bit of control he did have. He scrubbed his skin raw until every inch of paint and any trace of the females that were throwing themselves at him was gone, he finally slipped into cotton trousers with a groan; he briefly debated going across the hall into her room to sleep but a warm bed and the female in it was calling to him. Surely if she had sought him out like this she wouldn't mind him sleeping in hisnown bed beside her, after all they both had made a habit of checking on the other before falling asleep now. He tucked himself into the silk sheets beside her and sighed as she curled into him, the comfort of her being there surely was the determining factor in his muscles finally relaxing and letting him fall asleep seamlessly.

All that had been spoken between the two the next morning was a simple exchange of “you okay?” and “yeah. You?” And a nod of her head.

Nothing was said when they both appeared for breakfast, Lucien seemed content at poking fun at Feyre for a bruised wrist and the nearly erotic interactions she had at the festival last night before Lucien finally escorted her back to the manor; Her sister had simply shook her head at Feyre when she found out the younger female had snuck out despite being told to stay.

Other than that everything had stayed relatively uneventful, the two continued their evening drinks and then would climb the stairs together to collapse into their own beds; but it had been just the start they needed.

The next time anything eventful happened was when she and Feyre had been sent back to their home, she had put up a fight and it took knocking her out to get her in the carriage.

Tamlin had felt terrible hurting his Rosebud like that, he knew she didn’t want to leave Rosehall and it hurt him to have to knock her out just to keep her safe. She had locked herself inside her room, refusing to come down and eat; she became a ghost. She wouldn’t admit to it but Tamlin’s presence had calmed her and had offered a strange kind of presence that left a lot of emptiness and longing there, She would only ever leave her room late at night after everyone else had gone to bed and she would sit in the garden across from the rose bushes remembering her late night meetings with Tamlin; she never once noticed Feyre’s absence within the walls of the home she occupied.

She stayed out of Nesta and Elain’s ways and kept out of their business, until a loud knock came at her door. She opened it with a growl in her throat ready to scream about leaving her alone, only Feyre greets her at the door but yet she is now fae like Tamlin; her eyes scanned over the sharpened features and pointed ears, a frown comes over her face as she furrows her brows.

“Sister, before you say anything let me explain.” Feyre begged, pushing her way into the room and closing the door behind her.

The older female shrugged sarcastically. “Well I have no other option since you pushed your way in here, explain away.”

“I don’t wish for you to be mad at me.” Feyre pleaded.

“I have a feeling I am going to anyways, no matter what you say that is not a promise I can make to you right now.” The older snapped, venom in her words.

The two sat down opposite each other on the padded couches she had tucked into the corner of her room, Feyre explained everything that had happened and begged her to help them with the mortal queens that would be meeting with them soon. That it might be good for her, she needed to get out of this funk anyways because Tamlin was jot a good male; Feyre insisted it and the older female felt her blood pounding in her ears and behind her eyes.

“Don’t you dare slander him like that, he only did what he had to to protect us Feyre, don’t start with me on this.” The older female growled.

“I'm telling you sister he is a bad male and I need you to put whatever feelings you have behind you and help us with this. You were there in Prythian too, you can speak on the matters that happened there.” Feyre begged.

“I will be down for dinner to meet these males you speak so highly of. I will think about your offer. I promise you nothing.” She hissed back at Feyre, pushing her younger sister from the room and shutting the door with a loud bang.

She dragged herself into the attached bathing room, contemplating ways to truly anger her sister for how she had spoken about a male she could tell was truly broken. She scrubbed herself with floral scents, dressed herself in the same greens Tamlin had worn, and then slipped one of the roses she had brought up from the late nights in the garden into her hair; a sign of who she was truly loyal too, she didn't see Feyre’s disdain for the blonde male she only saw the fact he tried to protect them.

She had joined the group in the kitchen, Feyre had given her a sad dejected look upon her arrival to the dining room table, she made no talk with the males around the table even when they attempted to reason or talk with her.

Eventually she stood, after she’d had enough of their insults and turned to address Feyre. “I will not be supporting you this time little sister, you insult my family and those I love then turn around and expect me to bend to your every whim? Well I will not be bending for you this time. Find your own way, Cursebreaker.”

She stepped out into the gardens to lose herself amongst the Roses she had helped Elain plant, a stone bench with heads of beasts carved into it greeted her; the only place she felt she could truly relax when her mind was racing, the beasts on the bench had reminded her of Tamlin’s beast form. After she cooled off she would head back inside and curl into bed, hopefully she'd get some kind of sleep tonight.

Several weeks had passed, everything had returned to normal, the queens came and went but a loud noise of some sort had her sitting up in bed; her door was off its hinges and three males filed into her room. She screamed and fought, but they gagged and bound her; eventually one of them had gotten tired of her thrashing and knocked her out.

When I came to, Elain was being pulled from a large pot, but Tamlin’s eyes never left my figure despite Feyre clinging to his arm and when he saw I was finally awake he made a subtle gesture to stay calm, his eyes held the same message they had the day Rhysand stormed into Rosehall: ‘don't fight, don't move, don't get hurt.’

I nodded back but tensed up as they dragged me forward. I rose to my feet, squared my shoulders, and shrugged off their grasp; stepping into the cauldron of my own free will. Just as I was about to submerge into the water I heard Tamlin call out for me, I felt his panic, felt every emotion he was feeling in my own chest and hoped he could feel my own thoughts and emotions; I took one last breath and let myself sink into the water, that enveloped me in a cool feeling that reminded of the breeze that floated across the Spring Court.

Inside the water, the cool black emptiness turned and twisted until I was greeted by a misshapen and abandoned version of Rosehall, inside a version of Tamlin that had clearly given up; it saddened me to see him in that, angered me to clearly see the cause: Feyre. The male she had chosen over Tamlin was towering over him, mocking him about Feyre destroying his court from the inside out. I couldn’t move, could only watch but then Rhys said something that had me thrashing against whatever invisible force held me in place.

“Too bad you listened to Feyre and that dumb little priestess instead of your mate. Maybe you wouldn’t have lost it all.” Rhysand had mocked.

No. I wouldn't let him lose it all, I’d be there to protect him like he had me, like he had tried to do with Feyre. I fought against everything restraining me to reach out for Tamlin and Rhysand to put myself between them and from the ground a wall of thorns all angled at Rhysand’s throat grew, one wrong move could have had his head on a spike. Whatever seemed to hold me there disappeared and I clattered onto the familiar wooden flooring of Rosehall, I rushed forward to Tamlin who called out my name; the thorns around Rhysand swarmed me instead and I screamed as they embedded themselves into my skin, it burned and I felt like my insides were being torn apart and reformed repeatedly, until one final crack had my vision going white and I attempted to reach out in Tamlin’s direction. Everything came rushing back to me as my hand made contact with the iron of the cauldron and I pulled myself back out, my body felt thinner yet heavier and all of my senses felt sharper; I stepped fully from the cauldron to find everyone staring at me and then Tamlin called my name desperately, my vision snapped to him and I rushed forward when everything was silenced by a blinding gold light and the feeling of belonging.

He had pulled me into his arms, faced me away from my sisters as they dragged Nesta under and he shrugged Feyre off. It was the first I had been able to take in my appearance, or at least a portion of it; where the vines had embedded themselves tattoos of swirling thorns made themselves at home with an occasional Rose in bloom or blooming littered throughout the design. Bracelets weaved together of vine, woods, and ivy dangled from my wrists; the tattoos led towards my wrist and faded into black at my fingertips.

“How intriguing,” a voice called out from behind me and Tamlin’s grasp tightened around me. “She's high fae yes, but there is clearly something ancient in her blood the cauldron transformed; she's similar to a wood nymph but so very different I haven't seen a dryad for ages, I believed them extinct. How exceptional for the cauldron to give us this.”

I felt a rumble begin in Tamlin’s chest and I tightened my own grasp on Tamlin. “Seems like the girl had fae blood in her veins somewhere Tamlin, appreciate that fact.”

The rest of the evening went by fast, I could barely remember it with my face buried in Tamlin’s chest. Nesta and Elain had tried to call me over to them but I simply shot them a glare. Eventually we returned to Rosehall, Lucien gave me a sympathetic nod while Feyre tried to cling onto Tamlin’s arm. She tried to play up how much she missed him, a lie, in fact it was all lies that fell out of her mouth; I had heard her ramble on and on about how much she was in love with Rhysand the day she brought them to our table, and it bothered me I wanted to say something but I was content in Tamlin’s arms as he carried me.

He had brought me to my old room, nothing had been touched beside the bed. “Sorry, I may have slept in the bed a couple times on sleepless nights.”

“You have nothing to apologize for Tamlin, but I have to ask you something.” I gave him a worried look.

“Of course Love.” He furrowed his brows. “What has you so concerned?”

“When I was in the cauldron, I saw something that I feel you should know though.” I clutched at the material of his shirt desperately.

“Of course love, what is it? What did you see?” Tamlin asked me with a concerned tone of voice.

“When I went under in the cauldron, I was here but not here, everything was torn apart and it looked abandoned. You were here down stairs in your study and Rhys was looming over you, he said something about how if only you had listened to me and not the priestess or Feyre. I have reason to believe the cauldron told me that for a reason Tamlin, I know for a fact the way Feyre is acting is a charade and that she completely despises you. She begged me to let go of the feelings I had for you and to listen to how terrible of a person you were when she came home to us as a fae.” I explained.

“Rhysand said something about how you'd lose it all, he… he was threatening you,” I looked to the ground and fusted the fabric of his tunic tighter in my hands. “I couldn’t stand for it. I- I reached out for you and then a wall of thorns was separating you and Rhysand and they were all pointing to Rhysands neck. And- and when I came out of the cauldron you called for me and then I looked at you and everything was glowing with a faint golden light and there was a throb in my chest-“ I was in the midst of rambling when Tamlin pulled me into a growl with a kiss.

“I'll send Feyre back to her court, and then me and you will consummate our mating bond and then will do this our way. Alright? Neither one of us will be left alone to lose it all as long as we have the other.” Tamlin assured me.

“Alright.” I nodded.

“Get cleaned up, I’m going to talk to your sister and send her back home. We can talk about consummating the bond later tonight.” Tamlin kissed my forehead and motioned to the attached bathroom.

The bond had been consummated over a cherry pie, and everything had been going alright; Feyre had frowned upon the fact I revealed her plan to Tamlin, she was even more bitter he had made me High Lady after he had refused her. The war came and went, I knew his plans of infiltrating Hybern and bringing the plans to the other High Lords; fuck, I had attended the meeting with him and fought with my sister over the venomous words she soit towards me and my mate. On the field I had caused massive damage, walls of thorns herded our enemies, tore them apart, and pulled them into the terrain below; I could cover large areas of terrain and bend it to our whim. It had made enough of a difference and I believed my sister understood that, as she clutched her dead mate and Tamlin offered him a shred of his own magic after getting a nod from me. It would be the last thing I would do to support her.

After the war we spent a majority of our time repairing the Spring Court that was until Lucien had made a comment about my scent being different which concerned Tamlin and led to an announcement of Spring Courts heir. Well I say ‘announcement’ but really we kept it under wraps from anyone but members of our court till the next High Lords meeting was called. Eris had been crowned after Beron had been assassinated by some leftover bane put into his drink; the assassin was never caught even though we all knew it had been a plot by Eris and his mother. Kallias had added Viv into our list of High Ladies and Helion had married Lucien’s mother. Come to find out Lucien was heir of the Day court and he had been trekking back and forth between Day and Spring to perform all of his duties.

Tamlin and I would be the last two to appear for the High Lords meeting, our son Alder on my hip; he was only two now but he had Tamlins golden hair and bright green eyes, you could make out his Dryad heritage though by the smokey black around his fingertips. Tamlin had offered to research my heritage with me to find out more about Dryads for me and our son.

Alder was fascinated by his Uncle Lulu, as he had taken to calling him, and started squirming in my arms the second he saw the ginger leaning against the entrance of his father’s home, His fox-like grin greeted us warmly.

“Good to see you two again, and as always its great to see my little Alder!” Lucien took the small boy into his arms, offering him a small orb of light to play with.

Tamlin pulled me into his side, “We are going to announce it tonight but we are naming him heir.”

Lucien snorted. “Do you really have to name him heir? He's your only one so far so no one will contest it anyways.”

Tamlin and I exchanged looks and Lucien glared at us. “Right?”

“Actually, that's part of why we were announcing it tonight.” I started but Lucien interrupted.

“Oh by the mother! You’re having another!” Lucien exclaimed.

Tamlin and I nodded equally as excited. “We better get in there, though I'm sure they can excuse us for the lateness due to Alder refusing to get dressed into nicer clothes.”

Lucien snorted and passed Alder back to Tamlin. “Then let's get in there, shall we?”

The meeting went extremely well, all the other courts were excited to welcome Alder as the heir of spring and happily congratulated us on the other arrival that would be coming soon.

I had introduced Alder to Feyre, Rhys and the rest of the inner circle out of duty and not respect. “This is Feyre and Rhys, they are the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court, the northernmost point of Prythian.”

Alder furrowed his brows and reached for Tamlin over my shoulder, he swept him away while he conversed with Eris and Lucien.

“Sister-“ Feyre had started.

“Don’t” I hissed at her, Nesta and Elain backing her up. “You have no right to call me that after what you tried to do to my mate. The last kind act you received from me was the war. Be happy Feyre, but it won't be with me in your life. If you wish to show up Tamlin is throwing a party for Alder’s birthday, he's naming him as heir publicly there.”

I turned from her and joined back at my mates side, Tamlin had grown since I first met him for sure; he was a good male, a good dad, he was ecstatic about training his children, and he was passionate about his court. I had seen him grow since his heir was born, there had been many a night where Tamlin would ramble on about all the stuff he couldn’t wait to show Alder about his court. He was so ecstatic to have Alder that he had gotten a small golden crown forged for him that was a duplicate to Tamlin’s.

I was proud of the male I loved, he had come so far and I couldn’t have asked for a better life with him. I just had one last puzzle to figure out: How to tell him I was pregnant with twins, and there would be three children running around Rosehall soon enough.

Taglist: @tamlinweek

#acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #acotar fanfiction #tamlin #tamlin acotar #tamlin x reader

338 notes · View notes

undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

Text

Cinderella - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

SUMMARY: Nikolai is a party person, you're not. But he's also a fool in love, so when you quietly disappear, he wastes no time finding you.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.5k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

☽ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ☾

Nikolai didn’t notice your sudden disappearance right away. He can’t exactly be blamed for that - he wasn’t given a chance to. With the mob of aristocrats and silk stockings flocking to him without mercy or patience, Nikolai’s attention could only take so much. They all wanted to shake the king’s hand, tell him a witty remark or confess how much they were enjoying the evening. He was, however, disillusioned by their pompous words - throughout years he’s learned to quickly catch on to the kernel of truth covered with layers of exaggerated epithets and sophisticated lexicon.

Only when the nobility and magnates spread out through the castle, taking advantage of the rare goods imported just for the ball, did Nikolai feel like he was forgetting something. He looked around the lavish ballroom in search of you, even just a glimpse of your dress or your hair. Alas, he saw none. Logically, he knew you were not in any kind of danger but lovers rarely are reasonable. There’s this strange itchiness in the back of his head that made his fingertips and feet tingle. In a room full of people, he felt uncomfortably lonely without you next to him; the world felt strangely wrong when you were not around.

He walked through the crowded halls asking about you - Grisha, guests, guards, no one seemed to have seen you recently. Despite the audible uneasiness in his voice, he dismissed any questions regarding your assumed well-being. Truthfully, the inquiries were only slightly misguided. You were probably perfectly fine and it was he who was sick with yearning because of your absence. Not sure what to do or where to continue his search, Nikolai simply marched forward, hoping to miraculously bump into you at some point. After all, what kind of miserable night is it going to be for him if he can’t dance even one time with his beloved queen?

Then, a gust of cold wind tugs at his clothes. His eyes look towards the direction of the night breeze only to discover one of the balcony doors being cracked open. Could it be…?

Nikolai approaches the windowed door with hopeful vigour. His heart stops for a moment, only to resume beating at a feverish pace:

As if unbothered by the grand ball, you’re leaning against the guardrail of the balcony, watching the starry sky. Moonlight washes over your silhouette, painting you more of a creature of dreams rather than reality. Cold wind tugs and waves the hem of your lavender gown but you don’t seem to mind it. To Nikolai, you appear almost inhuman like he just stumbled upon a dryad that got too caught up in looking at the moon and forgot to hide from the human gaze. It must be by the Saints’ mercy that he’s the one to not only admire the nymph but hold her heart as his own.

“You come here often, красивая девица?”

Startled, you turn around to look at the unexpected guest. Upon seeing Nikolai’s face, you sigh and let your shoulders relax - you can discard all of your facades around him without ever hearing a word of criticism. Without thinking about it, your lips curve into a smile.

“Only when I need a moment to breathe,” you answer before turning back to look at the sky again.

Nikolai leans on his arm against the guardrail. His watchful gaze studies the side of your face, his thoughts slipping away to gush about your beauty, while he’s trying to keep his focus on the more important matter that is checking up on you. The longer his eyes trail your features, the more he grows convinced that you are, in fact, a dryad and have put some kind of spell on him that has bound his thoughts to you.

“You worried me, love,” he speaks softly, as though he’s afraid his words might further spoil your mood, “disappearing so suddenly.”

With an apologetic look on your face, you meet his gaze. “I’m sorry. I just…” You look away for a moment, gathering thoughts. ��It all became a little too much: the people, the noise. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Nikolai brings your hand to his lips and places a soft kiss on your wedding ring. “I will always worry for you.” The gold jewellery glistens in the pale, silvery moonlight.

Part of you still finds it hard to believe that a man of his sort is doting on you. Funnily enough, he’s thinking the same - what unimaginable machinations of the universe blessed him with you taking his name?

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you. The noise of people enjoying the evening is distant and muffled like it’s coming from another reality, somewhere far from the microcosm of the balcony. As mentioned before, lovers tend to belong to another species. Nikolai and you are just staring at each other with complete devotion in your eyes, silently exchanging confessions and oaths even death can’t quite break.

The sound of someone walking past the balcony door pulls you back to reality. Although the awakening is not welcome, you find it necessary. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your guests, мой царь? They came from far away to meet their king.”

“Oh, please, they didn’t come here for me. Why else attend a ball if not to admire the queen?”

“That’s your reason for attending.” Nikolai doesn’t find it in himself to lie and deny the accusation. “Most people just want to dance, talk and have a bit of caviar.”

Jokingly, he puts a hand on his chest. “Are you calling me special?”

You only shake your head and bite your lower lip but it’s not enough to stop the wide smile from spreading across your face. “I never said that.”

Nikolai frowns at your denial but the playful glint in his blue eyes rids his expression of all seriousness. “No, I’m pretty sure I just heard you say ‘Nikolai, you’re the most amazing man I have ever met’. Why, thank you. I must agree.”

His half-serious cockiness makes you laugh out loud. If he didn’t look pathetic before, he surely does now: the king of Ravka, staring at you with a soft smile and a dreamy gloss in his eyes. For a moment, he’s not noble in any way, shape or form. Nikolai is just a man - a man who gladly traded deference for love. Your laughter rings in his ears, his yearning mind hoarding the beautiful sound as though it desperately needs it for survival. Even the efforts of the talented orchestra are drowned out by your happiness as there is no other music he wishes to listen to.

Only when you’ve stopped laughing does he continue the conversation, never daring to interrupt something he adores so much: “Are you feeling better, милая?”

“I will soon.”

The orchestra finished one of the more upbeat pieces and in a true show of their expertise, they smoothly transition to a slow, sombre tune. Because of the distance between the balcony and the grand ballroom, the music is muffled as though the artists are performing their song in a nearly-forgotten dream; as if the soft tune belongs to another realm.

“In the meantime,” he says as he offers you his hand, “may I have this dance?”

You only giggle as you put your palm on top of his. Soon, you’re slowly swaying to the distant melody with his arm protectively wrapped around your waist. It’s not an actual ballroom dance, so you feel no embarrassment in comfortably placing your face against his shoulder. Out there, among lords and magnates, maybe this would be considered too casual but on the balcony, it’s the only way one should dance. The time seems to stop as you and Nikolai rock to the rhythm of the sombre tune.

After what feels like both seconds and hours, you lift your head off his shoulder. Nikolai’s dreamy stare is following your small movements, never missing as much as a twitch of a muscle. If he could, he’d engrave your face on his eyelids, so he doesn’t have to go more than a few seconds without seeing you.

“As much as I appreciate your concern,” you begin quietly, as though raising your voice might burst this little bubble of careless romance, “you don’t have to run after me anytime I need to get away for a moment.”

Nikolai answers in an equally low voice: “I also don’t have to kiss your beautiful face but I just can’t help myself, you know?”

You’re still giggling when you feel his lips against yours. It’s sweet and tender and absolutely consuming. There’s a certain intensity to this kiss - the passion known only to those obsessed with something, whose intrinsic instincts can’t just casually enjoy the object of their desire. His warm lips feel perfectly moulded for yours as he’s silently pouring the contents of his heart for the world to see.

____

красивая девица [kra-see-va-ya de-vi-tza] -> beautiful girl

мой царь [moy tzar] -> my tsar/king

милая [me-la-ya] -> 1. darling, sweetheart 2. cute

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai imagines #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone x you

741 notes · View notes

vodika-vibes · 3 months

Note

Hiya,

I hope you are feeling rested on your road to recovery and I wish the best.

I was wondering if you could something similar to your Tup selkie au but with a clone of your choice

It would be lovely if you have the time to do so🫶🏾

Swan Prince

Summary: You’ve been tending to your father’s garden since he fell ill. Not by choice, but because there’s no one else to take care of the garden while he’s in the hospital. The most interesting animal in his garden is a personable black swan. You don’t think twice about confiding in it. Until, one day you are late with your chores, and your swan friend turns into a man.

Pairing: Selkie! ARF Trooper Hound x F!Reader

Word Count: 2205

Prompt: Selkie AU

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Hihi! Thanks for your request! I hope you like this story. I wasn't sure at first, but I think I came up with an idea that I like.

Sometimes, you wonder what your father was thinking building his home so far away from civilization. You have to drive thirty minutes from your home to the subway station, and then sit on the train for an hour, and then walk for another fifteen minutes to get to his house.

It wouldn’t be so bad if you were able to drive the whole route, but that’s not possible. Hasn’t been possible since the storm came through several years ago and washed away a large section of the road.

You know that this land has been in your family since your great-great-grandfather built the family home on it so long ago, and you know that your father loves the home that he was raised in.

And, you know that as his only child, it falls on you to make sure that the house doesn’t fall into disrepair while he’s in the hospital.

You just really, really wish that he lived closer.

The house your father lives in, the house you were raised in, is very pretty. Built like a ranch, spread out rather than up, it was designed by your great-great-grandfather to make it easier for his wife to navigate.

Your great-great-grandmother lost the use of her legs in a riding accident when she was a child, and, by all accounts, your great-great-grandfather was adamant that she be able to navigate her home with the same ease as someone who was able to walk.

Your grandfather, however, was the one who built the massive garden in the backyard.

And when you say massive, you mean it. The garden is large enough that it has a lake, a lake that your family is responsible for maintaining. Not to mention the dozens of exotic plants and trees that make it look like a garden from a fairy tale.

When you were a little girl, you would take a small boat to the small island in the middle of the lake and climb the tower your grandmother had made to house her library. You would spend hours curled up on one of her many couches and lose yourself in books and stories about faraway places.

It wasn’t surprising to anyone when you went to school for archeology. In fact, you only returned home from where you were living halfway around the globe when you got a call from a family friend, telling you that your father had fallen ill.

It would be easier if he was more tolerant of other people, but he’s refused medical care from anyone who wasn’t completely human. This is completely ridiculous, in your opinion, but he’s still able to make that decision.

And people wonder why you only speak to your father on major holidays.

You jog up the gravel path that leads to the house, digging your keys from your pocket. Your father’s car sits in the garage, where it’s been since the road was washed out all those years ago.

The bushes at the front of the house are overgrown, and you huff out an annoyed breath as you dig your phone from your pocket and snap a photo. Your old roommate from college decided to become a landscaper rather than complete law school, maybe she’ll offer you a deal.

Of course, your old college roommate is a dryad, and she’s heard more than one rant about your father’s bigoted ways, so it’s just as likely that she would only offer her assistance if you were the one who owned the house.

You pull the mail out of the box and flip through them as you open the door.

There’s nothing important, just a couple of magazines and a predatory credit card offer from the local bank. But nothing that you need to bring to your father.

You sort the mail on the table, putting all of the similar mail together for him to sort later, and then you focus your attention on the house proper. You check that the water is still off, make sure that all of the windows are still shut and locked, and then push open the door to the back garden.

The truth is that the only reason you need to come out here every day is to make sure that the koi in your mother’s koi pond get fed.

The reality is that if it wasn’t for your mother’s koi you wouldn’t have returned from the dig. Though, you’re pretty sure that your father isn’t aware of that fact.

You follow the familiar path from the house to your mother’s koi pond, you can tell as you get close to it that the feeder is still working and doesn’t need to be refilled, and that the filter is working well.

For a moment, you watch the familiar fish swim around in the water, and it’s almost like your mother hasn’t passed away. If you close your eyes, you can almost hear her singing her silly lullabies to her koi.

Old, familiar grief washes through you for a moment, but you shove it away with the ease of long familiarity. You straighten and turn away from your mother’s koi pond and towards the lake.

The path from the koi pond to the lake is twisting, but it eventually leads to a shallow staircase that leads you down to the lake itself.

As you approach the shoreline, a small smile crosses your face as a black swan swims over to you from the island in the middle of the lake, and makes a beeline for you, stopping at your feet and butting his head against your leg.

He makes an unhappy noise, and you smile at him as you stroke his head.

“I know, I know. I’m late. I’m sorry.” You crouch so you’re not standing over the bird, “Father had an appointment and he insisted that I just had to be there.”

The swan releases another unhappy noise, at the mention of your father and you smile at him before sitting on the sand, “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you hated my father as much as I do.” You joke.

The swan settles onto the sand next to you, his dark eyes focused on your face.

You’re not sure how your father managed to catch a black swan and force him to live here, but the poor thing seems unable to fly. You hope that he hadn’t clipped the swan’s wings, though that would be very on-brand for him.

Your father has always viewed people and animals as possessions, after all.

“I’m going to have to spend the night, probably.” You say with a sigh, “At least my room is still set up.” You cross your legs and cast your gaze over the water, “I never should have come back,” You murmur, more to yourself than the swan sitting next to you, “This place is like a black hole, it just sucks the life out of everything.”

You watch the moon inch across the sky, and then you stretch your legs out in front of you, “If I leave now, I might be able to catch the last train back to the city.” Of course, you don’t have the desire to get up and try to do that.

So, instead, you release a sigh and flop back on the sand, focusing your attention on the stars over your head. Sleeping under the stars isn’t too bad, you think absently.

You’re jerked from your thoughts when there’s a sudden light from right next to you. You half sit up on your elbow, and you stare, speechless, as the swan next to you glows and transforms.

From a swan to a man.

Now, you’re not a stupid woman. You’ve heard the stories, and you’ve even seen proof of old curses while on digs, so you know what you’re seeing. But, never in a million years, have you ever expected to see one so close.

The man standing before you is tall, with curly black hair and dark skin. He’s wearing casual clothes, a tank top, and loose lounge pants, and he has a leather jacket hanging from one hand.

You stare at him, jaw dropped, and he holds out his hands placatingly, “Please don’t freak out—”

“What the actual fu—!”

“Okay, that’s freaking out,” He says as he drops to his knee in front of you, “I can explain.”

“That’s a curse.” You say, your voice faint, the first stirrings of hysteria building in your chest, “Being turned into a swan is a curse—”

He clamps his hand over your mouth. He smells nice, like earth and pine and salt water. “Yes, yes it is. Please, let me talk.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, but nod mutely.

“Okay,” Slowly he pulls his hand away from your mouth and presses his hands on your shoulders, “My name is Hound and I’m a selkie. Your father, for some reason, decided that all selkies were women and kidnapped me, and when I turned back to this form, he lost his shit and cursed me to be a swan.”

“What.”

“Because I, and I quote, ‘tricked him’.”

You gape at him, “That…makes no sense.” You finally say, “My father has about as much magical potential as a brick.”

“Well, apparently not.” Hound replies with a shrug, “Honestly, I was all set to hate you when you first showed up, but you’re not anything like your father.”

“Yeah, well. I take after my mom.” You say faintly.

Hound smiles at you reassuringly, “You’re handling this very well.”

“Uh…well, I was in Greece last year, and there was a whole island dedicated to people who were cursed to be swans—” You say, your hands coming up to press over his, which are still resting on your shoulder, “How can I break the curse? I don’t have any magic at all.”

“Well, true love’s kiss is a pretty potent magic,” Hound points out.

“Great! Who’s your true love?”

He shoots you a bemused look, “That would be you.”

“Well. Well, that’s silly.” You reply, “You don’t know me.”

“In the last couple of months, I’ve come to know you very well. Why do you think I followed you everywhere?”

You blink at him, “I feel like you need to have better standards than the daughter of the man who kidnapped and cursed you.”

Hound shrugs, “I disagree.”

You huff out a heavy breath and reach up to press your hands against his cheeks, “Fine, but when this doesn’t work, we need to come up with another plan.” You warn him before you tug him in and press your lips lightly against his.

It’s a very quick kiss because you honestly don’t think it’s going to look. Even if Hound, swan Hound, has been your only friend and confidant for months. That’s not the same as true love.

Turns out, the magic doesn’t agree.

You have to turn away to shield your eyes as Hound glows brightly, and there’s an audible snap of the curse breaking.

When the light fades, Hound is still himself, and he looks very, very smug. “I knew it was going to work.”

You shake your head and duck long enough to pick his jacket up off the sand. You shake the sand off the soft material and hold it out to him, “It makes no sense.” You counter.

He stares at you, before he slowly takes his jacket back, “Thanks.”

“I appreciate you, and I do think of you as a friend, but that’s no true love.” You say.

“Well, maybe the curse broke through the selfless action of the daughter of the person who cursed me.” Hound offers.

“I mean, I guess that’s possible. Magic is finicky like that.” You mutter as you fold your arms.

“It is finicky like that.” He agrees, “Now, I have just one more question.”

“Hm?”

“Would you prefer an autumn or a spring wedding?”

“I…what?”

Hound holds up his jacket with one finger, “Selkie.”

You stare at him, and his jacket, for a moment, and then you curse, “That can’t be legally binding—”

“It is. Both magically and legally binding.”

“I’ve never even had a boyfriend before!” You blurt.

“That’s alright,” He replies brightly leaning in so that he’s able to press his forehead against yours, “I’m a patient man. Even though we’re already legally married, we can take our time and pretend that we’re just dating.”

“I…suppose that works.”

“Great. Now, I’m starving for real food, do you think we can go up to the house and get something to eat?” Hound asks, “Also, I need to call my brothers.”

“Yeah, alright. I’m sure there’s something in the house I can make.” You turn to head back to the house, only to pause when Hound takes your hand in his and threads your fingers together.

For a moment, you stare at your joined hands, and then your face heats. You can almost feel the amusement rolling off of Hound, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” You murmur, and then you tug his hand to lead him towards the house.

Your father’s head is going to explode when he finds out about this. But maybe that’s a good thing.

#star wars #tcw #star wars au #vodika-vibes 650 event #arf trooper hound x reader #hound x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks #selkie au

61 notes · View notes

fieldsofwriting · 1 month

Note

Piggybacking off your last ask: thoughts on a monster AU for the cast? :0 It's canon it's a magic universe and there's witches/dragons at the very least, I wonder if werewolves or mermaids exist as well!

Oh my gosh yes! I love this!! I love supernatural or like monster AUs!! I had my friend help me imagine some too- so Hayden, Balor, Reina and Valen all have her ideas as well :3

Adeline: I think given her status- she'd be a dragon hybrid. Maybe not fully dragon but she definitely would have the scales and maybe horns and a tail.

Eiland: Piggybacking off of Adeline. This man is a dragon. Through and through. Not one single character screams thier monster more than Eiland screams Dragon. Balor: Vampire. Enough said. If you've ever played Balder's Gate 3? Astarion types of Vampire. Or, a trickster fae who likes to make deals with people. Celine: I love her so much and I can not decide if she would be like a fairy, or a mermaid. Im leaning toward fairy more than mermaid for the soul fact that she would be like Thumbelina and also she could sleep in flowers. Hayden: Mans is the Minotaur. Look at him, then look at the Minotaur and tell me I'm wrong. You can't. Ryis: This man is a dryad. Made of wood and likes to attract creatures. He would be so happy to be a tree and have birds sit on him and be so happy. Reina: I can not decide what she would be. I think in this fantasy world she's the bar maid who sends people one quests and takes no shit. She could be anything and also nothing. March: He is a werewolf. He would be the same way in his human form as he usually is- but his wolf form? They would love you so much, like good luck getting up from his big paws. You have to cuddle with him during the full moon and he is so happy about it. Valen: Vampire. I mean- c'mon. Doctor? Blood? She'd be all about it.

A/N: This lowkey made me wanna write a werewolf!March x reader but I hope you enjoyed! And as always-

Requests are open!!

#fieldsofwriting #fields of mistria x reader #fields of mistria #fom march #juniper fom #hayden fom #fom x reader #fom #fom reina #fom valen #fom eiland #fom adeline #fom celine #fom balor #fom ryis #ryis fom #march x farmer #fom march x reader

51 notes · View notes

onequeerhuman · 2 months

Text

Ah, the opportunities (and the tension) pt.3-the end… for now

(for music, i listened to liquid smooth by mitski while writing this :)

larissa weems x oc!reader, fluff with tension

light descriptions of body (mention of feminine clothes, descriptions of fae form matching those of a dryad, etc.)

chapter specific warnings: talk of mates, talk of different cultures and less-than-good morals (faeries are morally grey creatures), light power imbalance, beginnings of smut/ implied future smut. —lmk if i missed something!

“so…..is there any other questions i can answer?” You ask larissa, lightly bemused at her childlike staring.

Weems snaps out of her daze, her cheeks flushing slightly at being caught staring in childlike wonder. She shakes her head softly, her eyes roaming over you once more before she speaks.

"I... have so many questions," she admits quietly. Taking a deep breath, she collects her thoughts, trying to sort through the multitude of inquiries in her mind.

"How... how old are you, if I may ask?"

tilting your head you ask back “it was in my resume which i’m sure you read before hiring me— oh. or do you mean my actual age in human years?

Weems nods slowly, taking a moment to recall your resume. It had been quite a while since she had even looked at it, but she still tries to recall the details.

"I suppose I was asking for your 'true' age... if that makes any sense," she says softly, her eyes still roving over your form, taking in every detail.

You snort, bemused, before answering “well, as my race is immortal, please don’t be too shocked, but i’m 834 human years- which is basically… 35? i guess? so that’s what i put on my resume…. but dont worry dear, i’m actually quite a bit older than YOU.” smirking at her, happy

Weems's eyes widen at your answer, her heart skipping a beat at the revelation.

"834 years old..." she whispers faintly, her mind trying to process the concept of such a long lifespan. And when you smirk at her, saying you're quite a bit older, her face flushes slightly, her expression a mix of surprise and amusement.

"Is... that so?" she asks quietly, a hint of curiosity in her voice, a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips.

“hmmmn…” you say as you walk towards her “actually, a small known fact about us, is that once we find our mates, if they’re of a different race, they stop aging entirely… until we die, of course- and then the aging process returns…..” You tell her, a tad bit sad looking off, reminiscent on some of the mated pairs you once knew.

Weems's heart flutters as you walk towards her, her eyes following your movements. Her breath hitches in her throat as you explain the small fact about your race, her mind trying to wrap around the concept of eternal youth.

"Your... mates…" she whispers, absorbing every word. But as your gaze turns sad, her heart constricts in her chest, and she can't help but ask, “Have you... lost a mate before?"

You smile at her “oh, no- i’ve not found mine yet… but i know those who have. it’s never fun, especially once you’re forced to witness the rapid decline in the health of someone you once knew as happy and alive…”

Weems's heart swells as you smile, though it saddens a bit at the mention of your lack of a mate. She nods slowly when you speak of those you know who lost their mates, a pang of empathy running through her.

"It… sounds like a bittersweet curse," she says softly, her voice filled with a mix of sadness and understanding. She watches you for a moment, her eyes tracing over your features, before speaking again.

"And do you... have an idea of who your mate might potentially be?"

Shrugging, you answer her question “not… exactly. but, there’s this thing- called the tether. it’s said that once we reach the age of maturity, we’ll have an inexplicable urge to travel somewhere, it may be close, it may be far… but supposedly we’ll feel a sense of contentment once we reach that place… and then we’ll know for certain that our mate is nearby, somewhere close. the task of figuring out who, exactly, your mate is, though, is unfortunately up to the fae themselves”

Weems listens intently as you explain the concept of the 'tether' to her, her brow furried as she takes in the information. She can't help but find a small sense of romance in the idea of a drawn-out search for a destined mate, and a soft smile forms on her face as she imagines the journey to reach that point.

"So it's a sort of... intuition, then?" she asks, tilting her head slightly. “A tugging at your soul, perhaps?"

Nodding, you tell her the truth “yes- it’s as if you become super excited to travel somewhere— where you do not know, so you just follow your soul. and once you reach it, the excitement melts into contentment and longing, until you find your mate. i’m actually from the coast of ireland, but i’ve made my way here, to Jericho… though i still have not found my mate and it’s been over a year since my arrival. really not that long but it’s still aggravating. my emotions get stronger by the day.

Weems listens intently, captivated by the mystery and romance of the concept. She leans forward slightly as you explain that your emotions get stronger by the day, a hint of curiosity sparkling in her eyes. She purses her lips gently as a thought crosses her mind.

She takes a moment, contemplating whether or not to voice her curiosity, before she finally speaks up, her voice soft and measured.

"And... when you say 'stronger'... exactly how so?"

You cough as heat rises in your face “well, for one, the push to find my love grows, my anger at not having found her grows as well as my urgency *to* find her and..uhhmn… how do i put this while remaining appropriate….” trailing off, the heat climbs up your neck and covering your cheeks

Weems takes note of the way your blush grows as you speak, and her own cheeks tinge with a soft pink hue. Her heart thumps in her chest as her mind races to fill in the blank you left.

She gazes at you intently, her curiosity piqued as she waits silently for you to elaborate, the implications of your words echoing in her mind.

“…lets just say, i can’t- uhmn… *you know*, without her.” your blush attacking your face furiously now as you turn away, unable to make eyecontact as your rub at your neck awkwardly.

Weems's face also blushes furiously at your insinuation, her heart rate increasing with the admission. Her mind conjures the very intimate image the implication creates, and suddenly she knows exactly the effect your emotions have had on you. Her own heart races in her chest, and she can't help but admire how absolutely adorable the bashful yet nervous fae before her appears, looking away to avoid eye contact.

She can't help but want to reassure you, to comfort you, and before she can think her next words through, she speaks them.

"I... I understand."

“thanks, yeah… little bit not fun. for me, anyways… i’m sure all the people i’ve slept with had fun” You may roll your eyes, but internally strangely content to finally having the confidence to tell larissa, you look back towards her.

Weems can’t help the small chuckle that escapes her when you roll her eyes and make the comment, her heart thudding a bit faster at the sight of your returned gaze. She bites down on her bottom lip softly for a moment, before speaking again, a hint of curiosity in her tone.

"This... may be a slightly too personal question, but... how many, exactly? If you don’t mind my asking…"

“well, how many i’ve fucked total? or humans? or.. in jericho?”

Weems's breath hitches slightly at your bluntness, but she manages to maintain her composure, albeit her cheeks are still dusted pink. She takes a moment to consider your question before answering, her words soft but measured.

"Let's start with... ever?"

“mmmn…. okay, please remember this has been over the span of 600 years, but 83.”

Weems can’t help the sudden surprise that shows on her face at the number, her eyes widening only slightly as she registers the fact that you’ve been with 83 people. Her mind stutters for a moment as her imagination briefly runs away with the number, but she shakes her head gently, bringing herself back to the moment at hand.

“Oh my…” is all she says, but her next question is spoken with a touch of curiosity, a hint of surprise still present. “And… how many here in Jericho?”

“….22. although, in my defence, the only way to find your mate is to sleep with them…” you shrug, once again slightly embarrassed of the reality of sleeping with 22 people in a mere year.

Weems can’t help the pang of jealousy that flashes through her veins at the mention of the number for Jericho alone, though she tries to tamper it down immediately, knowing full well she has no right to be envious. She takes a moment to collect herself, her thoughts running a mile a minute again.

"I…. suppose that’s accurate," she says softly, her mind still processing. “But… don’t you get tired of… well… being intimate with so many people?”

“i… well, yes. mostly considering i havent yet found her” your anger spikes enough that a wisteria tree suddenly sprouts to a size rivalling your own without you noticing as you continue* “…but it’ll all be worth it once i’ve found her— oh! but don’t worry, i havent slept with anyone of my nevermore colleagues. i know it’s against the rules” you added with a smile*

Weems can’t help but flinch as the tree suddenly appears, her heart pounding in her chest once more out of a mix of surprise and worry. She takes a moment to glance around the room, her mind still trying to wrap up their discussion, before it finally returns to you when you mention the rule at Nevermore.

The mention of you not having slept with any of the other faculty or staff allows her heart to calm slightly, and she can’t help but ask, “And… what about students?”

“oh, no no never! my mate, if human or outcast is *atleast* in her thirties at this point, and event thats a little young… and either way, i only sleep with willing participants, which students do not happen to be” You say seriously.

“And… would I be incorrect in assuming you have no mate as of yet? Because of how you haven’t shared a bed with someone you feel the connection with?”

You blush, face coated in heat “yes. i know she’s somewhere here, in the jericho area, i just can’t for the life of me find her” *You sigh, flopping back down beside larissa dramatically, my top sliding down a bit

Weems can’t help the way her gaze drifts to your newly revealed skin once when you flop back down beside her, her cheeks flushing pink once more as her eyes dart back up to your face. She swallows hard, trying to keep her mind on the conversation at hand and not on your state of undress. She’s quiet for a moment, contemplating something, before she speaks up once more, her voice soft yet curious.

“You’re… absolutely certain she’s somewhere around the Jericho area? No where else?”

“Well… i hope so, considering this is where i was called to… maybe she’s even working at the school. say, you don’t happen to know any women between the ages of 35 and 60 working at the school do you?” You smile tiredly up at her, for as to the extent of knowledge most of the female staff here are either too old or too young or even too non-existent to fit your description.

Weems thinks for a moment, her mind running through every single female faculty member that works at the school, silently counting off the ones that fit your age range. She thinks for a few seconds longer before slowly shaking her head, a frown on her face.

“No, everyone on staff is either outside your age range or just not here. I can’t think of a single female faculty member that fits your criteria…other than me.”

As the idea crosses her mind, her heart immediately begins to race, her mind going into overdrive. She shifts nervously for a moment, wondering if you’d be open to the suggestion.

Her voice comes out soft and hesitant as she finally speaks up, her words measured and her gaze not meeting yours.

“Can I… ask you something?”

“sure” you say lazily, glancing towards her, a content smile on your face.

Weems slowly looks back up at you, a pang of both hope and anxiety filling her as she speaks once more, her voice soft yet firm.

“You said… that you’ve been with 22 people during your time in Jericho and you’re certain your supposed mate is in the area. So… what would you say if I… proposed a potential theory?”

“..oh? i’d say i’m very intrigued, please, go on.” you ask, interest piqued

Weems swallows nervously, her heart pounding in her chest as she prepares to state her theory. Her mind races as her courage builds, finally pushing out the words she’s been thinking about.

“What if *I’m* your supposed mate and you just won’t know it until you’ve… engaged in acts with me?”

With eyes flashing a bright gold for a moment, the colour circling your irises, your suddenly on top of her, hands curling into the blanket on either side of me, body leaning over hers in a crouches position as your eyes stare into hers, your faces closer than ever before “i think i’d like to find out. preferably now, if you’d also like” you tell her, my voice much more gravelly than before, taking on a breathy quality as well

Weems breath hitches as you suddenly switch your positions, her eyes growing wide as she looks up at you, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

She takes in the change in your eyes, and the sound of your voice. A shudder runs down her spine a you lean over her, a mixture of lust and want growing. Her breathing is heavy and labored, and she can’t help the word that leaves her lips as she gazes up at you.

”Yes…”

Catching your breath, you stare into her eyes “…are you sure?” you ask again, the insecurity bleeding into your voice.

Weems nods immediately, her gaze unwavering as she looks up into your eyes, her voice growing firm and certain. “Yes… I want this. I *need* this.”

….

hiiii people!! author here, So, originally when i’d sorta planned out this story it ended here, at this part, buuuuut i have vacation time for the next week and a half and could use something to do while visiting home other than working on the farm. So if enough people are interested, i could make this more of a series. thanks for reading - buggy :)

Taglist: @larissalover3

#fanfic #fanfiction #larissa weems #larissa weems wednesday #lesbian fanfic #lesbian #gay #larissa weems fluff #larissa weems x oc #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x you #larissa x reader #larissa weems fanfic #gwendolineuniverse #gwendoline is mommy #spicy fic

44 notes · View notes

thesummerstorms · 27 days

Text

PJO x DC, Camp Half-Blood has an open betting pool on:

Is Poison Ivy actually a dryad or, like, the dryad+human equivalent of a demigod?

Is Black Canary a daughter of Apollo? (Blond + sonic scream) Or is her boyfriend Green Arrow (blond+ archer) the son of Apollo?

Are the Arrow sidekicks then legacies? Some of them are too old to be Canary or Green Arrow's biokogical kids, but...

No one will entertain the idea of both Green Arrow and Black Canary being Apollo kids or even one of them being a legacy because it's widely known they're together and no one wants to go there, Greek Mythology be damned.

Which gods could still fight in a space battle? (Apollo and Artemis are the sun and moon, but does Poseidon have any dominion once you leave Earth's atmosphere? What about someone whose powers are more rooted in humanity, like Hermes?)

They have this debate under the guise of "which god's kids" to avoid anyone being smites, but everyone understands the subtext.

If they ran away and, like, joined the Green Lanterns though, would they finally get to escape demigod problems? Or would the Gods still follow them?

What the hell is Swamp Thing, and does Pan have anything to do with it? Did some poor Satyr 's nature magic go really, really wrong?

Batman son of Nyx? Nemesis? Athena? Phobos or Deimos?

Annabeth Wayne Chase tends to shut those conversations down when she can, or else leave the room, and people figure she has some weird Gothamite grudge, maybe related to Batman not helping her when she was a seven year old run away. This theory has extra credence because she will throw something sharp or heavy at you if you try and insist Batman must be her older brother through Athena.

Do alien pantheons (Rao, X'Hal) really exist, and, more importantly, do they now have any domains on Earth due to Superman, Starfire, etc.

What exactly is going on with Aquaman, Tempest, etc & Poseidon. (Percy tried to give them the explanation but it was too rational to be fun.)

Are any of their missing or presumed dead siblings actually running around in a mask with the Justice League?

Everyone is pretty sure they know the answer to this, actually, at least in their heart of hearts. It never stops the youngest kids from hoping.

Bonus:

Roy Harper /Arsenal encounters either Will Solace or some other blond Apollo child with both archery ability (at least somewhat) and sound powers (a la Will's sonic whistle) and becomes paranoid that Dinah and Ollie have either a time traveling or dimension traveling secret love child.

#pjo x dc #dc x pjo #dc #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #Annabeth Wayne

30 notes · View notes

bunny-dr34ms · 2 months

Text

the love fate demands of us - prologue

- mystical!txt x angel!reader

summary. flora was the land of magic, where fantasy thrived. now, in the hands of humans, it has become a land where the enchanted had to hide in shadows in order to survive. you, neither human or angel, an abomination to both, knows better than anyone how cruel this world can be. fate has failed you time and time again but when she leads you deeper into flora, you'll find that your hardships are shared by others. will you and your new companions be able to restore what has been oppressed in flora? more importantly, will you be able to find the love fate demands of?

cw/ tw; f!reader, fae!yeonjun, vampire!soobin, werewolf!beomgyu, wizard!taehyun, elf!kai, fantasy au, royalty au

features; txt, names of other idols that i decide as i go

wc; 1.8k

Prologue: Flora: The land of magic

Flora, the land of magic and all things fantastical. There was truly nothing like it. From the mystical forests to the flourishing river channels, from the tiniest twinkling pixies to magnificent beasts, Flora was a land of legends. Creatures of all and every kind roamed freely, building little communities and towns of their own. Whole civilizations existed but no matter how they continued to advance, the peace was never disturbed, they were all Florians after all, united under their nation. Truly, there was nowhere else promising more beauty and adventure.

And then the humans arrived.

Nothing could've prepared Flora for humans. No seer, omen, or prophecy could've prepared Flora for the shattering ruination that would come with humans. Albeit there was no early premonition that they were even coming at all but a place like Flora would've welcomed them anyway.

Welcome she did.

When the first group passed through the fog, they spent weeks wandering and building camps in the forests, dryads and nymphs passing word that something new has entered Flora. A new kind of people for the first time in almost 1000 years, the most recent being the first group of leprechauns that came along(they were quickly found out to just be odd fairies) The humans wandered and wandered, lost in Flora’s great forests until one day they stumbled upon a little town of dwarves. The dwarf king of that town graciously let them in, already catching wind of the new friends that have been lost for weeks. Dwarves were stubborn, prideful people who really only acknowledged other by their work but humans were equally crafty with their shiny metal armors. Just like that, the dwarves and the humans became good friends and even better partners.

Now, if it wasn't for greed.

If it wasn't for the human's greed for more--more power, more riches, more land. If it wasn't for the thirst that they had to conquer, maybe...no, Flora definitely wouldn't be what it is today.

In just a month's time, hundreds, thousands of humans started entering the forest. All of them flooding Flora's forests from all sides, clambering up into the mountains, into plains, anywhere that had land for them to take. Still, without question where all of them came from, Flora took them in with open arms. The interactions the dwarves had made the other groups believe that humans were similar to the already residing citizens of Flora. Kind, generous, humans were just another race of goodhearted people joining Flora, right?

Oh, how wrong they were.

The first 5 years of humans just inhabiting Flora were the most destructive years that this land has ever faced. Not even the Great Forest War could compared to the monstrous crimes committed by the humans. Forests were torn down and burned within just weeks. There were houses being built everywhere the eye could see in almost every meadow. Mountains were chipped away until wide paths ran up and down the sides from bottom to top. All water sources became awfully contaminated or redirected into their new little residential areas. The entire landscape of Flora changed in those 5 years.

That was just the landscape; the creatures of Flora suffered far, far worse.

The population of the forest animals cut down by half, unicorns, jackalope, and even dragons alike. Humans had no sympathy for those who couldn't talk to them it seemed. The elves were wearing of these newcomers but reluctantly allowed them in their kingdoms after hearing praises from the dwarves. What a mistake that proved to be because soon the humans began to chase them out of their very homes. Elves were always more closed off in all aspects of their cultures. History books of elven society hardly had any of their spells, traditions, or magic. Humans didn't like that and took it all by brute force instead, fire seeming to be their favorite to burn down whole communities. After the elves, news began to spread about these humans once again. This time about how they were tyrannical, heartless monsters that killed with no remorse.

From nymphs to mermaids, centaurs to witches, fairies to vampires, they were all slaughtered at the hand of insatiable humans. After all, Florians didn't know what to do at the face of cold massacres. They've been living in tranquility for eons and eons. The Great Race War was recorded in history to be at the very start of time, when Flora just a clearing of trees. Just the sight of humans with weapons in their hands were enough to send all life forms running and hiding. In the last 3 years, the entire population of Flora, apart from the dwarves, was once again halved.

Then came the Human Flora War.

After 5 years of taking the cruelty of humans, all the fantastical beings decided enough was enough. They were done with letting the humans take what they want. Another 5 years were spent planning, preparing, training for this battle. Florians knew that humans were a tough opponent, having seen their brutality first hand. And prepared they were. It was thousands upon thousands of mystical beings that had magic and power coursing through their veins, victory was essentially guaranteed. On the battlefield, it was clear who was going to win, the humans with their flimsy iron tools stood no chance against the mages. Fire no longer scared the water nymphs, werewolves and vampires haunted their bases at night, picking them off like flies. Yes, victory was in sight.

The humans were enraged, they've never lost so pitifully before it seems. So they had to play their dirty tricks once more. They turned to the only race that they treated as equals: the dwarves. It was already bad enough that some dwarf towns didn't participate because they believed that humans weren't all bad. The humans made a deal to the dwarves. They promised that in return for the dwarves to join their side, they would provide them all with riches for the rest of their lives. Dwarves were never wealthy, not like vampires or elves, so this prospect made them eager. They were convinced when the humans apparently brought a ship that was filled to the brim with golds and gems that the dwarves have never seen before. The humans somehow constantly replenished their man power and with the betrayal of the dwarves, which were at full force, already having years and years of weaponry stored up and being spared the humans' wrath, Flora ended up losing.

The next 10 years was spent by the humans raising their own cities and kingdoms. In the utmost center of Flora was the main kingdom called Roseria, where the Esor Forest, the largest forest in Flora, originally was. Now there were only a few acres of it left surrounding the kingdom. There were neighboring kingdoms too. Magnia towards the mountains and Asteria near the oceans. Here and there were little human towns with some being mixed in with dwarves. At this point of time, the human population alone was enough to equal almost all the magical beings and creatures.

Flora, ever wondrous and ever adapting, was still able to heal after all it went through.

All the flora and fauna found its way to thrive again, growing back lush and healthy. The were only two major changes. One of them was the new hierarchy in place, where humans stood at the very top. Every one, every thing else had to obey, otherwise they'd face severe punishments. Ears would be clipped, wings were cut, anything that set one apart from humans would be eliminated with so much as a word out of line.

The second change, was a decree made by humans, banning all magic.

Humans were not as intelligent as they say they are. Trying to make home in a land of magic just to ban it, which is impossible by the way, was like stepping outside and banning the sun from ever shining because it was too hot. They always hated magic anyway, hated how those who could wield it made them so much more powerful and just better in every way. Magical beings are naturally more beautiful, more alluring. Humans couldn't accept that with their own greed to be the best. Really, they were just scared of how strong and otherworldly magic was. Still, even with this nonsense ban, creatures of their own environments worked hard to nurture Flora, allowing it to continue prospering under human rule.

So that's where Flora is as of now. Still the land of magic and all things fantastical despite the green-hearted humans' intervention. In spite of this, odd and new definition of peace, there is always something new and unheard of that could happen here. The Kingdom of Esor, ruled by the Hwang Dynasty's 3rd generation, is about to recieve their first princess. This princess is going to be the result of not only infidelity, but also a child of a human and an angel. Interracial families were inevitable, no amount of hate or disgust for the other race could've prevented love from getting in the mix. Not every human was evil and not every mystical Florian held grudges against them. Though the marriage between them was made legal, they were still shunned by society, from both sides. Forgiveness was hard to earn and forgetting was essentially impossible with all the recorded history of the crimes committed by humans. How terribly unfortunate.

Anyways, back to our princess.

She will be the first hybrid royal to ever exist. In a year, we will get to see how she fares in this magical world. In a year she will be born to the royal family and in a year, after 200 years of peace with the humans, Flora's tranquility shall be once more disrupted.

Simultaneously, deep in the forest, a brutal path of betrayal awaits 5 individuals. A misunderstood vampire who wanted nothing more than to protect his own. An exploited fae who longed to experience what love was for himself. A forsaken werewolf who was sacrificed by his own blood. An incriminated wizard who dreamt of helping those in need with his talent. A ridiculed elf who wanted to use his powers for good.

Fate was unkind to you and them, forcing all of you to fend for yourselves in a fight where the world has turned their backs on you. Will the red string weaving through your heart help you find your soulmates? When push comes to pull, will they stand next to you? Come, as Flora awaits its saviors, the suppressed magic straining against its chains, let us discover what fate has in store for us.

Let us face together, the love fate demands of us.

author note: posting after who knows how long.. i really enjoy the concept of world building as hard as it is so i decided to give it a shot! i haven't had a chance to proof read this yet so please forgive whatever blemishes there are, i'll fix it as soon as i can! should i make a masterlist for this, i've never made one before but im willing to try >< chapter 1 is already in the making but i wanted to post this to see how we feel about it. i can't wait to release the next chapter !!!! let me know what you think !! all reposts, likes, and shares are appreciated! my inbox is open!

38 notes · View notes

boosoonhao · 7 months

Text

even death (would be worth it)

wonwoo x reader 10k words supernatural au mentions of human sacrifice and cult behaviour

The forest feels alive. A weird thing, if you think about it, considering its name. It’s almost hilarious that the moment the Dead Forest feels the most alive; trees shivering and leaves dancing, wind humming a tune that at once feels both strange and familiar, is the day a woman is brought inside it to die. Wonwoo would have laughed at the irony of it, had he not been too busy frowning at the prospect of another human joining the ranks of elves, faeries and dryads occupying the greenness of his home.

And not just any human, Wonwoo reminds himself with a sort of twinge of something unfamiliar and uncomfortable curling inside his stomach. This particular human, this ‘sacrificial lamb’ as the old woman had aptly named it, is his responsibility.

For as long as there has been a forest, there has been Guardians; chosen beings of various species tasked with keeping the peace in the enclosed area of magical energies. The King was – at least as far as legends go –the first Guardian, as old as the forest itself and impossibly wise. No one knows how long he’s been around, or even what he truly is, but his authority is unquestionable. Wonwoo peers to his side, glances over at the ancient leader as the three of them; the King, the old human woman and Wonwoo himself, walk towards the clearing.

As far as fabled creatures go, the King is an outlier even within the collection of his own people. Wonwoo knows faeries, he knows imps, he knows mermaids and dryads. There are mutations, combinations, halflings of most every species that reside within the Dead Forest that seem almost impossible on their own, but there is no one quite like the Forest King; who is not really a creature at all, as much as he is an entity. His head is adorned by two bright, soothingly glowing horns, both delicate and strong in appearance as they arch towards the sky like some sort of crown. In fact, his whole being seems to be bathed in this barely noticeable but somehow unavoidable light; his face softened by the smooth glow against ageless skin and his skin radiating with heat that makes Wonwoo feel as calm as he feels awestruck.

The King’s steps echo through the darkness of the woods; four discordant clops of hooves against dirt. In the distance, Wonwoo hears voices. They must be early, then.

“You were chosen as Guardian for a reason, Wonwoo,” the hollow, echo-y voice of the King comes from his side. When caught unaware, Wonwoo almost finds himself believing that the king is speaking directly in his head; had anyone told the dryad that his king was omnipotent, he would not be surprised. But as Wonwoo blinks and readjusts his attention towards his revered leader, he sees the King gazing right back at him, a calm expression curling the edges of his mouth upwards. “There is no reason to worry.”

Wonwoo almost tells his king it’s not his role of Guardian he doubts; Wonwoo wears the title with as much pride as his dormant emotional spectrum allows him to and is willing to go great lengths to protect his reputation as the first dryad Guardian the Dead Forest has seen. It’s the task, the station dubbed ‘human protector’ that Wonwoo has his reservations about.

At his side, the old woman hums, almost like some ominous sort of reminder of exactly what it is Wonwoo fears. He remembers – quite vividly – how the woman had looked when she first arrived; how long the scouting team had looked before finally finding her. The first woman Wonwoo had encountered in his lifetime at least had the common sense to sit tight, to wait for her death with trembling limbs and quiet sobs. The woman next to Wonwoo on the other hand, though she might be old and slow now, had been far less submissive.

Wonwoo doesn’t know what this new one will be like; if she’ll be sitting by the clearing with a blindfold wet with tears or if they’ll have to scour the forest to find her curled up and bleeding behind some stub somewhere deep inside the woods.

And even more unsettling, Wonwoo doesn’t know which option he’d prefer.

“I’m not nervous,” Wonwoo simply responds instead, once he realizes that he’s been quiet for too long. Decades ago he might have refrained from conversing so casually with the King; both terrified and impressed with the power he wields and the dignity with which he does it, but Wonwoo has long since learned that his ruler is far more fond of comrades than he is of followers. Wonwoo never was good at pleasantries anyways. The King laughs; a full sound reminiscent of the sound of bells dancing in the wind, surprisingly soft and easy for such a monumentally powerful creature.

“It’s just,” Wonwoo continues, head cocked to the side and eyes wandering along the soft flutter of tall grass at his feet. Daylight is fading quickly now; beams of sunshine running between thick tree trunks and hiding behind heavy clusters of branches and leaves. “The forest is very loud tonight.”

He swears he can hear footsteps, low murmurs and angry thoughts. They’re not even near the clearing yet.

“The sacrifice is a crude tradition,” the old woman muses, voice steady and calm and strangely detached from the cruelty of her own people. Perhaps not so strange, considering years and years ago she was the one trapped in the forest, running blindly around between the trees. “No doubt the forest knows as well.” The wind roars, as if in agreement.

Wonwoo, despite not having been present at the previous collections, have to agree. If he closes his eyes he can imagine it vividly; a row of humans clutching at a tight piece of rope, a crowd of people huddled just outside the forest. To make sure they don’t get lost, the old woman had explained once, though Wonwoo thinks that if they’re that afraid they might be better of staying out entirely. The forest doesn’t want them anyways.

His thoughts are still muddled, still full of cruel imagery when the three of them reach the clearing. There’s almost no sunlight left now, the forest covered in a muted darkness that makes the trees seem taller than they are, gives an illusion of hunched over shadows looming over them. Wonwoo isn’t afraid of the shadows. He’s more afraid of the human sitting quietly on the flat of a large, flat roundness of the cut down tree in the middle of the clearing.

The blindfold – a precaution meant to confuse, to make sure the sacrifice doesn’t manage to wander off out of the forest before being claimed by whatever horrible, vengeful creature the humans believe reside in the woods – has fallen down, no longer obscuring your eyes. You twist your head around at the sound of footsteps, gaze hard as you make eye contact with Wonwoo. There’s something dark and unsettling in the stubbornness of your glare, but it might just be a trick of moonlight and darkness mixing up and settling like a bewitching sort of fog over the clearing. Your hands are tied, resting easily on your lap. Wonwoo can’t see your mouth, but somehow he knows you’re frowning, your brows furrowed and your body rigid as you regard the three of them.

“Ah,” the old woman gasps, her own wrinkled fingers clutching at the rounded top of her cane. There’s something almost heartbreaking about the sheer amount of empathy in the sound. Beside Wonwoo, the King is very quiet. “She’s much younger this time.”

Wonwoo knows very little of human lifespans, their ages so fickle and their time entirely too short to properly catalogue the stages they go through from birth til death. But he remembers how the old woman looked when she first arrived; youthful and vibrant and colorful, nothing like the shriveled up figure next to him now. You’re much the same, if a lot more dangerous looking; the glint in your eye entirely antagonistic and the stiffness of your shoulders balancing somewhere along the line between predator and prey. But he can tell, somehow, that the woman is right. When the woman arrived, she looked like she was finished growing, like the only way forward was into the decline that comes with aging. You look like you’re barely past the stage of blooming. Like you’re only just beginning.

Wonwoo supposes that’s a tragedy, somehow.

“Child,” the King murmurs, and you jerk your body away as if stung. Not in fear, Wonwoo realizes, but in disgust. If the King notices, he pays it no mind. He speaks in what Wonwoo assumes the King thinks is a soothing voice, but it’s hard to be soothing when you sound like a specter echoing inside someone’s head. “Don’t be afraid, we’re not here to hurt you.”

The old woman steps over with slow, careful steps. Wonwoo can’t tell if she does so deliberately or because her legs simply cannot carry her as swiftly as they used to. She fumbles with the bindings around your hands, rids you of the fabric covering your mouth. Just like Wonwoo suspected, your mouth is turned down, lips spread thin across your face.

You do not speak, not when the woman urges you to stand, not when she guides you towards Wonwoo and the King. Not a single word when the woman asks your name, or when the King offers his sympathies, not when he promises your safety within the forest.

Wonwoo doesn’t fear shadows. But he will admit that he finds the ones flitting and dancing over your face unsettling, at the very least.

Wonwoo’s home is a wonder. He doesn’t have to be an outsider to know that there’s something almost unreal about the beauty of the heart of the Dead Forest after dark; lanterns glowing with the faint buzz of fireflies and ivies curled around trees. It’s an open enough space; small huts in the treetops for the faeries, bigger ones on the ground for elves and other humanoid creatures. There’s a new one freshly built right next to the spot that Wonwoo has claimed as his own, a humble yet pretty thing of deep greens and splashes of colored flowers.

The King is still talking; Wonwoo hears his own name, hears the word Guardian, and when he twists to key into the conversation he is immediately met by your hard, stubborn gaze. Not as hostile as it was earlier; something that looks vaguely like admiration fleeting in the color of your irises as your gaze glides along the tree tops. Wonwoo almost feels like he’s intruding, as if his presence taints the moment.

The light in your eyes fades as you stare him down, and soon enough there is only that muted sort of distaste left. It’s not that strange for a human to be suspicious towards the forest; to Wonwoo’s knowledge the humans grow up with horrible tales of relentless, bloodthirsty monsters only kept at bay with sacrifice. Even with Wonwoo’s general distrust in humans, he can empathize with the fear you must feel.

Still, there’s a distinct lack of a tremble, a forceful stubbornness to how you keep your eyes locked with his, that makes him thing fear is not a deciding factor in your stiffness and your tight lip.

“If there is anything you need,” the old woman says, ignoring the way you grimace at her touch. “Don’t hesitate to ask.” Wonwoo can see your jaw moving, as if you’re chewing on words you can’t quite manage to say.

Wonwoo resists the urge to sigh. Somehow he thinks his job will be a lot harder than the last Guardian’s.

___

Seven days pass before Wonwoo hears you speak. For the first two, he wasn’t even sure that you could, your main way of communication seemingly being through intimidating glares and a permanently down-turned lip, and it’s only the old woman’s reassurances – not that they’re necessary – that lets the dryad know that you do, in fact, have a tongue.

A part of Wonwoo is relieved; he’s not much for small talk himself and strictly speaking your reluctance to do as much as speak to him makes his duties as Guardian almost laughably easy. For all intents and purposes you’re the perfect subject, spending your days sulking in your hut or talking walks along the safer parts of the forest. Wonwoo needs only stay close, to make sure you don’t get lost and carefully watch your progress – or lack thereof.

The other part of Wonwoo, the part that seems somehow uncharacteristically loud, feels agitated. He feels as if he’s walking on pins and needles, carefully avoiding your poisonous glares and silent judgments. He feels antsy, skin creeping, as if you might snap at him at any given moment.

Which perhaps makes his first actual conversation with you wholly unsurprising.

“Do you have to do that?” You ask, shoulders stiff as you crane your neck to look back at him. Your hair shimmers in the stray rays of sunshine piercing through the thick of treetops in the forest, makes you look almost inhuman and gives your eyes a golden sort of glow. It does little to diminish the angry knit of your brow, only serves to strengthen the intensity of your frown. Wonwoo stops as well, caught somewhere between astonishment that you’d spoken to him so freely and uncertainty at your abrupt question.

“Do what?” He asks, voice almost breathless. This must be the wrong thing to say; he watches a muscle in your jaw twitch, observes as your body language become even more guarded than it usually is.

“Follow me around,” you elaborate, tones of your voice tinged with an almost nasal sort of annoyance. Your words echo into the empty space between the trees. “Stalk after me like some sort of puppy.” Wonwoo doesn’t exactly know what a puppy is, but he imagines it’s not a compliment. “I feel like I can’t even breathe with you all up in my space all the time.”

He frowns. “As Guardian–”

“I don’t give a shit about guardians,” you interrupt, voice louder, shriller. “I don’t give a fuck about your dumb forest or your dumb king or any of this.” Wonwoo thinks he hears a sort of crack in the syllables of your words, as if your conviction is tearing at the seams, confidence splitting and fading with every intake of breath. It’s such an emotional display, muted only slightly by your insistence of keeping a distance. “I don’t want it. I just want to be left alone.”

“You should be grateful,” Wonwoo says, unable to help himself. Empathy was never his strong suit, not a skill much needed for dryads in the first place. He says it not because he means to admonish you but because he truly believes it. Not even the first woman in his lifetime, the one with the loud sobs and the scared eyes, had been this reluctant to assimilate into the laws and society of the woods. And even then, she understood that the only thing the King wanted was to keep her safe.

But Wonwoo realizes, even before he sees the way your lip quivers, that maybe he should have thought twice before speaking this time.

“Is that so?” You reply, tongue sharp and tone betraying the fact that your question is not really a question at all. “I should be grateful that my family were willing, proud even, to sacrifice me to some sort of devilish, forest dwelling boogeyman? That my own people found it so easy to discard me for ‘the greater good’?” Your gaze is hard, jaw tight as you speak. “Should I be jumping at the opportunity to live out my pathetic life among creatures who can’t stand to look at me?” The implication is clear, and Wonwoo only barely manages not to divert his gaze, and even then it’s stubbornness than anything else that makes him keep his eyes on you. “All this, and there’s not even an actual boogeyman.”

For some reason, Wonwoo feels guilty; shame tugging tight the strings in his chest. Another sensation he isn’t particularly used to. He doesn’t stop you when you wander off in the direction of the huts, not even sparing him a second glance.

Wonwoo feels as if he’s standing at the edge of the world, gathering up the courage to blindly jump off. Tension tugs at his nerves, sizzles underneath his skin and seeds of uncertainty seem to have taken up residence within every corner of his chest.

Truthfully, he has never apologized for anything before, has never had to. Life with forest creatures, beings of serenity and peace, rarely get into arguments, rarely differ enough in spiritual wavelengths for misunderstandings to be made. Evidently, humanity is not quite so simple. And so, here Wonwoo stands, at the metaphorical edge of the world.

It occurs to him that perhaps he has been the narrow-minded one. That maybe he takes for granted the sense of calm and belonging he feels beneath the shade of dark green trees. Not, mind you, a realization he comes to entirely on his own; it takes a talking to as stern as he imagines the old woman to be able to give to truly make him reconsider his stance about what he had previously written off as ungratefulness.

So he does something he’s never done before – a somehow common occurrence these days – and he puts himself in your shoes. He imagines that his people raise him as a savior, as a means to and end, as a something rather than a someone. He listens to the old woman describe her youth praised as a hero, all up to the day she was tied up and blindfolded and lead into the place she’d been told horror stories of ever since she was born.

He imagines that his own King abandons him, leaves him to die so his people can live. He imagines all of this, and he feels ill. It’s such an inconceivable thing, such an impossibility, and yet, the evidence of such a thing existing is right there, tucked behind the curtains of a floral hut. He inhales, horrified to find his breath uneven, and then he knocks at the wooden edges of your hut.

He’s not at all surprised to see your expression harden as you stick your head out of the hut to inspect his crouched over form, but he will admit that some of his resolve seems to scurry away at the sight of you. Wonwoo isn’t a cowardly man, but it seems you know how to bring out the poorest parts of him.

”What?” You mutter, voice somewhere between a hiss and a murmur. You haven’t spoken a word to him since your argument, he’s barely even seen you outside your little home, and somehow, even if your tone is less than friendly, the sound is welcome.

Wonwoo falters. He clears his throat, diverts his eyes. His apology lies on his tongue, coated in something thick and sticky, and he can’t quite seem to get it out. You stare unblinkingly at him as he opens his mouth, closes it again.

”Come,” he says at last, deciding to change tactics. You open your mouth, undoubtedly to complain or refuse, but Wonwoo holds up his hands in a disarming gesture, making your mouth shut again with an audible snap. “I want to show you something.”

___

There’s a place in the forest that Wonwoo has, at least privately, claimed as his own. A humble clearing decorated by a crystal clear pond, a quiet little sanctuary where time seems to stand completely still. Untouched by both humanity and forest creatures, it’s the place where Wonwoo feels the most at rest. There’s always been sort of a reassurance in that he’s the only one who knows about it, that aside from the swarm of beautifully colored butterflies, no one but Wonwoo breathes in this space.

The moment you step into the clearing, Wonwoo hears your sharp intake of breath, a sort of quiet, unrestrained gasp that makes his eyes instinctively look for your expression. He’s reminded of when you first entered the heart of the forest, unbridled wonder softening your features and making you look like an entirely new person. You blink, mouth open and hands curled into loose fists, and when you turn to look at him, there is – for perhaps the first time – no venom to be seen in your eyes.

”What is this place?” You ask breathlessly, standing on the very edge of the clearing as if you’re afraid you’ll ruin it by getting too close. Wonwoo feels like he’s on display, as if he’s showing you the deepest, most private parts of himself. In a sense, he might as well be. Wonwoo doesn’t have secrets, he only has this one, private thing. Dryads are raised to be selfless, to be humble and open. This place might be the closest thing Wonwoo has to humanity.

”It’s–” he starts, cuts himself off. He feels strangely vulnerable, oddly out of place. Somehow he wants to impress you, to gain your approval. Which isn’t something he’s really excelled at so far, it seems. “You said you wanted to be alone,” he tries, words awkwardly tumbling out of his mouth. “This is where I go to be alone.”

You hum; a surprisingly soft sound for someone who’s been anything but, and the smoothness of it sends shivers down his spine. “So this is your apology.” It’s not a question, but it’s not as accusatory as Wonwoo would’ve expected either. There’s a hint of playfulness, of something light and almost teasing in the tone of your voice. Wonwoo blinks, and he thinks the slight upwards curve of your mouth might be a trick of the light.

”I’ve been told I can be,” he pauses, reluctant to admit his shortcomings. You look at him expectantly, and Wonwoo’s face heats up. It’s never done that before. “Narrow-minded,” he finishes lamely. At that, you snort somewhat derogatorily, and Wonwoo thinks he should probably be offended. “I’d like for you to– to enjoy your life here.”

Wonwoo sees the flicker of something akin to sadness flash across your features, and it strikes him that ‘enjoying your life here’ might not be exactly what you’d wanted for yourself. That it might not really be as ideal a situation as the King and the old woman – and Wonwoo too, he realized – thinks it to be. For as much as a safehaven for the sacrifices the forest is, it is not the natural home of a human. A strange kind of grief takes hold of him, a foreign and horrible sensation that grips at his chest and makes his throat tight.

”In any case,” he hurries, the silence too heavy for him to handle. “When you need to be alone, I can, uh, I can take you here.”

This time, you really do smile; a soft and almost unnoticeable thing that – though it seems genuine – lacks the sort of joy to it that Wonwoo is used to see from the faeries and the elves, whose mouths are locked in a permanent, decorative upturn of lips. “I accept your apology,” you tell him, head bowed ever so slightly and voice impossibly soft. “Thank you.”

He’s changing, Wonwoo thinks. He doesn’t know why, or how he knows, but he’s changing.

With the blink of an eye, what used to be Wonwoo’s sanctuary is suddenly a shared thing. You ask him to take you there almost every day, spending hours just sitting with your feet dipping in the water of the pond or lying flat out on the soft grass. There was one time you’d disappeared from your hut without anyone noticing, and Wonwoo almost had a panic attack before he realized that there was really only one place to look for you.

The animosity is completely gone; exchanged for a slow build of easy quips and curious questions. Wonwoo doesn’t think he’s spoken so much in his entire lifespan; the overexposure to your inquisitive nature almost making him winded at times. Rarely do you talk about yourself, or your life before the sacrifice. Maybe it’s because Wonwoo doesn’t ask. Common courtesy dictates that he probably should.

He doesn’t. Perhaps because he’s scared to. Wonwoo has never been a Guardian before, but he’s seen multiple of them at work throughout his life. He’s seen them handle their humans with care, with respect and with empathy. He’s seen them be distant and cordial. He’s never seen them sprawled on the grass trading jokes or whispering secrets. He’s never seen them share parts of themselves with the outsiders.

Wonwoo’s tip toeing so close to the edge he feels like he might as well be free-falling.

___

“How old are you?” You ask one day, form relaxed as you lean against the trunk of a thick tree right by the pond. Wonwoo’s sitting next to you, so close your shoulders are almost bumping against each other. You’re twirling a yellow flower between your fingers, head leaning towards him in a way that suggest a sense of comfort that Wonwoo never imagined someone would have towards him. He finds that he doesn’t mind it. “I mean you look pretty young, compared to the other ones, but it’s kind of hard to guesstimate the age of a tree.”

Wonwoo frowns, unsure of what to make of the new descriptor of himself and suddenly strangely self-conscious. “Does it matter?”

The flower in your hand stops twirling. “I suppose it doesn’t,” you mutter, but you can’t quite conceal the twinge of disappointment in your voice. Wonwoo peers down at you, finds himself oddly charmed by your pout and the way your brows knit together.

It’s not the first time in the past few weeks he’s found himself endeared by your oddities; with time he comes to enjoy your company in a way that makes him almost worried. Dryads are emphatic, caring creatures by nature, but they are supposed to be elusive, untouchable for things who are not of their own blood. For as much as you are his responsibility, his given task; he feels protective. Gaining your favor has been an uphill battle, and even now you are quick to withdraw when you feel he doesn’t respond in the way you want him to. In short, you don’t feel like a subject; you feel like something much more, something dangerous, something–

“I think you’ve made me sick,” the words are out before he realizes he’s even opened his mouth. It’s not the most eloquent thing to say, but it’s not a lie either. With every instance of prolonged exposure, Wonwoo feels as if he’s about to crawl out of his own skin. He feels hot and cold at the same time, he feels as if he can’t even think. Wonwoo has always been a creature of logic, of collected calmness and emotional distance. He feels off-kilter and strange with this newfound sort of affection he feels for this human life he’s supposed to protect.

It’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling, but it makes him nervous nonetheless.

“Excuse me?” You shift to look up at him from your laid back position against the tree trunk, expression part worry, part incredulous. “Look, I’m sorry I asked about your age, I didn’t know it was such a touchy subject, but you don’t have to be rude.”

“No,” Wonwoo amends, voice slow and careful as he searches for a better way to word himself. “I feel sick,” he puts a hand to his chest, grasps at the fabric of his soft, silky tunic. “My chest feels heavy. I’m dizzy, distracted. It hurts to be near you, but it hurts to be away, too.” Even as he’s speaking, Wonwoo feels the rate of his heart speed up and the palms of his hands turn clammy. “Is this some kind of human illness?”

For a long moment, you only stare at him, silence hanging between you like a heavy blanket. He wonders if he’s offended you, or if he’s describing something incurable, something you’re afraid to name. You drop the flower and Wonwoo watches as it falls into your lap as you push yourself up into a straighter position.

“I don’t,” you murmur, so quietly and softly that Wonwoo almost has to lean in to hear you. “I don’t think that’s an illness, Wonwoo.”

You refuse to elaborate further, even though Wonwoo prods and questions; even goes as far as attempting to blackmail you, and the dryad feels as if he’s missing something. Something obvious, something important.

___

The answer comes in the form of a conversation with the old woman. At first Wonwoo insists he’s going to let it go, that he doesn’t care about your human secrets. But as time passes, the condition only worsens, and by the end of the month, Wonwoo feels like he can’t breathe in your company. It’s like everything changes after the conversation about his supposed non-illness; Wonwoo is at all times acutely aware of your presence, even when you’re not by his side. He feels tingly, jittery, like he’s trying to burst out of his own body. There are times when his hands reach out all on their own, eager to touch; as if the feel of your skin beneath his palm would somehow ease his discomfort.

It must be more obvious than he thinks, considering it’s the old woman who seeks him out and pulls him aside in the end.

“It looks like the two of you’ve gotten close,” she says, a sort of playful accusation lacing the shivering tones of her voice. Wonwoo doesn’t know much about humanity, but he knows about death. It looms over the old woman like a ghost, clings to her body so tightly he swears he can smell it. Death never bothered Wonwoo before; dryads get dreadfully old and fade elegantly. The prospect of returning to the earth never scared him. But Wonwoo looks at the old woman and he sees you; as vividly as if he’s staring into the future. And that; that scares him. The fact that the old woman was like you when she arrived, and with the snap of time’s fingers, this is all that’s left.

“I guess,” he mutters, reluctant to be truthful. For a moment this urge confuses him, makes him think that maybe he’s ashamed. A second later he realizes it’s possessiveness that grips at his insides, a wish to keep his closeness to you private, a secret only meant for the two of you.

“That’s nice,” the woman sighs contentedly. “It’s good to see some humanity in you.”

“Humanity,” Wonwoo echoes, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “Is that what this crushing, mind-numbing sensation is?” Instinctively, he reaches for his chest, presses his palm over his heart. Even now, it’s throbbing; thudding against his rib cage so quickly he can barely count the beats. “All humans feel so helpless around their close ones?”

For a second, the woman seems taken aback with his openness. Wonwoo does not blame her; words and confessions tumble out of his mouth too fast for his mind to keep up, yet another side effect of his strange, human affliction. A distinctly un-dryad feature Wonwoo isn’t quite sure how to deal with. She gazes at him, a clever sort of smile toying with her wrinkled face.

“Ah,” she muses, leaning back in her plush, custom made chair. “I suppose in a sense it is.” Leave it to an old woman to be cryptic, Wonwoo thinks to himself, in a voice that sound suspiciously like yours. “That’s love, Wonwoo,” she adds, hands folded in her lap as she peers at him through barely open eyes. “That’s just being in love.”

The concept of love is not one that Wonwoo is particularly familiar with. Dryads’ way of love is that of the earth; they love nature and all of earth’s creations, but they do so in a way that is not meant for the individual. A dryad doesn’t love selfishly, doesn’t long to possess. The love that the old woman describes, the one that resonates and echoes within him, is distinctly selfish. The want to possess, the need to be close, the wish to have your feelings returned. All of these things scare Wonwoo; they should not exist within him. But he looks at you, at the way your fingertips glide along the blank surface of the pond, and he cannot find it in him to deny it.

Love. The word echoes, bounces around the inside of his rib cage. Love, love, love. It might as well be an illness, for all the good it does him. Love is an impossibility; there is no place for such a trivial thing in the Dead Forest. Not for him, and certainly not for you, whose existence is but a mere droplet in the vast sea of dryad lifespans. The inside of him feels rotted, in a way that’s both horrible and exhilarating.

“Wonwoo,” you call, pulling the dryad out of his thoughts. He realizes he’s been staring, brows furrowed so tightly his head hurts and it takes deliberate action to ease them out again. “Is something wrong? You look like you’ve eaten something gross.”

He blinks, watches you carefully. Wonwoo remembers his initial thoughts months ago, when he was treading the forest path to find you sitting on your wooden pedestal, bound and gagged and waiting for whatever you might’ve imagined the Dead Forest to harbor. He remembers his derogatory thoughts and your antagonistic posture. Perhaps this is his punishment, he thinks, for underestimating you in the first place. Perhaps this blossoming, wild feeling in his chest is what he gets, for thinking himself better than you.

“No,” he says, stepping over soft grass to sit next to you. Here, he feels content despite himself, tilting his head and closing his eyes to listen to the soft breeze caressing his skin. “No, everything is fine.”

___

The old woman passes away during the summer. As quietly, as peacefully as she’d lived, she drifts asleep in her chair, a gentle curve of a smile adorning her wrinkled face. Human death always seems to come sneaking up on Wonwoo; it’s hard to gauge just when a human is at the end of their lifespan, their final couple of decades riddled with weakness and minor or major illnesses. The first woman had passed in a fit of a violent, painful illness that the forest creatures could do nothing about, if nothing else, Wonwoo is thankful for this one going gently.

Still, there’s an ache in his chest, something that feels both similar and completely different from the one he’d identified as his romantic affection towards you. Something dark and gloomy that makes his throat tight and his mind numb. Grief, he realizes only after seeing the hollowed out expression on your face. A distinctly human emotion; reserved for beings with no lasting footprint left on the planet. Dryads do not grieve each other, for they know that death is merely the soul returning to the earth where it belongs. It’s just the next step in the everlasting adventure that is existing. For humanity, it’s the end of the line.

Wonwoo isn’t sure if he grieves for himself, or if he grieves for the heartbroken look on your face, for the way your voice sounds muted when you request that Wonwoo leaves you alone for a while.

So he does. Wonwoo leaves you to sort your own grief out and he waits. He watches. Watches the King’s glow, muted now; flickering almost like a candle blowing dangerously against the wind. Wonwoo supposes he’s not the only one struggling with the exposure of human emotion. He has never seen his King like this, never seen him walk so quietly, as if he doesn’t want to be observed. It makes him feel less alone, somehow, and he guesses that’s humanity as well; a concept that seems to have overcome him completely, tainted him to the point of no return.

He can’t even find it in him to curse it, not when he’s too preoccupied worrying over the closed curtain of your hut.

___

(When you first arrived, you had been reluctant to integrate yourself into the society of the forest. Wonwoo is not so self-obsessed that he believes it was himself who single-handedly helped you over this hurdle; he knows that the now deceased woman played a big part in making the forest feel like a home. Wonwoo tries to imagine a place where he’s the odd one out, where he has nothing – not even a lifespan – in common with the creatures around him. He imagines that having that one person, a single piece of comfort, was instrumental to the fact that he was able to watch you interact with faeries and dryads alike.

Once the woman is gone, you seem to lose your footing. You rarely leave the hut, and when you do it’s with eyes glued to the ground. Wonwoo sees the rim of red around your eyes, knows that you’ve been crying. The fact that he never sees you do so does little to soothe the stinging sensation in his chest.

It feels like deja-vu when he knocks on the wood of your hut and urges you to follow his lead.)

“I worry,” Wonwoo tells you frankly once you’ve reached the sanctuary. He takes you to the tree where you like to sit, signals for you to sit down before he follows suit. His shoulder brushes against yours. He leans into it, courage ignited when he feels you sag against him in return. The contact makes his heart swell, even as the feeling battles against the growing sensation of pain that seems to rattle his rib cage. “You’re not happy here. Not anymore.”

It’s not a question, because Wonwoo does not need to ask. When you first arrived, Wonwoo swore he would never understand your irregular switches of emotion, that your expressions and gestures would continue to confuse and distract him until you withered away like the rest of the women. Now, though, he recognizes the furrow of your brow, the downwards tug of your lips, and he feels heavy. An illness, he had thought; some human borne disease he had caught through over exposure. He knows better now, but somehow he feels even more clueless. What is love, when your lifespan is so ridiculously short and insignificant? What is the point, when you could be gone within just the blink of an eye? There is none, he concludes, but the yearning persists, and his body feels just as heavy.

“No, Wonwoo,” you admit, an attempt at easiness to your voice that doesn’t quite convince him. No use in denying it, but then he admires that part of you; the blunt yet somehow pillowed honesty you seem to possess. “I am not.”

“What was your village like?” He asks, painfully aware that it’s the first time he inquires about your life before the forest. Part of him doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to think about the possibility that you preferred your time without him, but he supposes it’s a conversation long overdue anyways. “Were you happier there?”

You inhale, shoulders stiff as if you’re preparing for a fight. It’s a defensive stance that Wonwoo hasn’t seen on you in a while.

“I guess,” you begin, brows furrowed. It’s almost as if you struggle to remember, as if the memories are so distant by now they become blurry. “I guess I was happy. In the beginning. Before I knew about this whole sacrifice bullshit.”

“When did you find out?”

“When I was ten,” you tell him, voice carefully carefree. Maybe you think you can conceal the heaviness of the topic with a gentle tone, but Wonwoo recognizes the twitch of your jaw, notices the way your fist curls into grass as you speak. “There was a ceremony and everything. A cleansing, they called it, to make sure you’d be accepted by the forest.” It sounds silly, when you put it like that; both you and Wonwoo know that the forest makes no judgments about your state, that the King would gladly welcome any who stepped inside; be they willing or sacrifice. But you both know that there is no such thing as a creature demanding sacrifice either, so he supposes the point is moot. “Apparently it was decided on the day I was born. I didn’t even know.”

“The other one—“ Wonwoo catches himself, mindful now of how he objectifies and dehumanizes the women who come to the forest. How despite the now deceased woman being with them for half a century, he never called – never even thought of – her by name. “Solar was happy. She lived a good life here.”

You sigh. He thinks he might have said the wrong thing. Again. “I am not Solar.”

“I know,” he murmurs, barely hears his own voice over the beating of his heart. “Solar was simple. She wasn’t as stubborn as you. You’re so much more.” He stumbles over words and half-finished confessions, grasps after something to say that might soothe your miserable grieving. “Is it me? Did I fail as Guardian?”

When you reach for his hand, weave your fingers between his own, a part of Wonwoo feels like it’s being ripped apart. He watches, carefully commits to memory the feel of your palm against his, the look of his long, slim digits intertwined with your shorter, human fingers. If nothing else, he wants to remember that; despite the sensation of oncoming heartbreak, he wants to keep the feeling of togetherness, of intimacy, close to his chest.

“No, you didn’t fail,” you whisper, hand squeezing his own. “Even if you’re a bit dense sometimes.” You lean your head on his shoulder, and it feels as if something locks into place. “You’re a wonder, Wonwoo.”

For a blissful, quiet moment, that is all there is. Your head against his shoulder and your palm against his. Wonwoo almost thinks you’ve fallen asleep, only knows you haven’t by the stolen glances at your face. He doesn’t want to ask, but the question lies ready on his tongue. He wills himself to choke it back down, to just take this moment for what it is and pretend like he doesn’t know the answer. But his newfound humanity gets the best of him, and again, Wonwoo opens his mouth.

“Then,” he hesitates, mind mulling over this question he does not want to hear the answer to. “If you could leave,” you do not look his way, head carefully lowered and gaze fixed at your own feet. “Would you?”

You do not respond, perhaps because you don’t really need to. Wonwoo’s chest aches. He has an urge to reach for you, to keep you trapped between his arms and make sure you never leave.

But he can’t. He just sits there, with his bleeding heart and his unease. It feels as if he’s wilting.

Wonwoo feels as if he’s standing at the edge of the world. It’s not the same feeling as it was before.

The King sits before him, glow still muted but slowly returning, the two of them tucked away in the King’s own living quarters. It’s a humble thing; only a few necessities here and there, the main space of the room occupied by the wooden, decorated throne the entity sits on. Wonwoo has never felt the need to keep secrets from his King, has never had anything private to even keep secret, but worry seeps into his skin. It’s no simple favor he’s about to request.

“I think,” he begins, tries to keep his voice calm and unaffected. “I think we should bring the human back to her people.”

The King hums, the sound echoing and bouncing inside Wonwoo’s head. It’s hard to know whether it’s a disapproving sound or not; but then that has always been the case with the leader of the forest creatures. “Back to the humans? To the people who sacrificed her? What makes you think that?”

“She’s not happy here. Not after– after Solar died,” Wonwoo doesn’t miss the flicker of light around the King’s form. He wonders, in the back of his mind, if the King and the old woman were closer than he’d noticed. “Keeping her here against her wishes would be cruel.”

Wonwoo clears his throat. He has always been a creature of logic; perhaps this time he can put it to good use. “Besides, if the humans see one of their own return safely, perhaps this tradition of theirs can finally end.”

“That is not such a bad argument,” the King agrees, and Wonwoo inhales. Never has doing the right thing felt so awful. “But what of you, then, Wonwoo?”

“What do you mean?”

The King looks at him knowingly. “You’ve grown fond of this human. What will you do if she leaves? Once she does, you know she can never return.”

Wonwoo’s willpower wavers. He knows this, of course, but hearing it rom none other than the king makes it real in a way it wasn’t before. Part of him wishes that when he presents you with the opportunity to leave you’ll refuse it, that you’ll choose to stay by his side for as long as your human lifespan allows you to. But Wonwoo is not stupid, and the sting in his chest tells him that even if that was so, he would not want to keep you chained up to a place you do not belong.

Even if he wishes he could.

“I know,” he says instead, swallowing thickly. “My duty as Guardian is first and foremost to ensure the sacrifice’s happiness. This is it.”

“And if I told you to discard of your duties and speak freely?”

“My priorities remain the same.”

It’s as close to an admission as Wonwoo has ever spoken out loud; he can tell by the look on the King’s face that the eternal being is not surprised. Wonwoo wonders if he’s been tested somehow. He wonders if he just passed or failed.

“When I appointed you as Guardian I told you it was for a reason, that you did not need to worry,” the King tells him, fondness vivid in the tone of his voice. “You have done your duties, now allow yourself some selfishness.” Wonwoo almost thinks he’s heard the King wrong; that he must have somehow misspoken. To encourage selfishness is not something Wonwoo has ever encountered before, to hear it from the King himself is close to an impossibility.

“If you do not wish to part ways with the human, I will not force you to,” the King says. “But know that the same rules apply. You will not be able to return.”

“You’re telling me I can leave?” Wonwoo asks in a rush of air. It’s such a foreign concept; a dryad leaving the Dead Forest, that he cannot really be certain the King is telling the truth. “But no one has ever left the forest before.”

The King inclines his head. “As you said, it might be time for changes. Perhaps this is the catalyst for a new era, a time where humans need not be scared of the forest, and we not so scared of the world outside.”

“I don’t–” Wonwoo’s voice cracks. A thousand things seem to come to life inside of him. Fear, elation, excitement, terror. He imagines walking out of the forest that has been his home for his entire lifetime. He imagines doing so with you by his side. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then do not rush. It’s a big decision,” something like a laugh echoes in the King’s voice. “Shall you choose to go, know you’ll leave behind your immortality. You will live and die like the humans do.”

“Thank you,” is all Wonwoo manages to respond. And then he bows, before he leaves the King’s abode.

___

When Wonwoo leaves the King’s living quarters, there is only one place he can think to go. He doesn’t go to his sanctuary, like he would before when he needed to think. He doesn’t go to his own given spot, doesn’t retreat into his tree-form for some much needed solitude. Instead, Wonwoo makes a direct line towards the hut where he knows you’ll be.

He doesn’t knock, too frenzied and energized to even stop for a second to consider proper etiquette. Instead, Wonwoo rushes in, manages to give you quite the fright in the process.

“Jeez, Wonwoo,” you mutter, hands clasped above your chest. You’re sitting in the middle of the floor of your simple hut, mindlessly toying with a self-made flower crown. “Do you not know how to knock?”

On any other day, Wonwoo might’ve apologized. On any other day, he wouldn’t have barged in in the first place, but Wonwoo looks at you and it becomes clear as day what choice he is about to make. Suddenly he feels like every moment not spent truthfully and openly has been a waste. He is not about to waste any more.

“Do you want to leave?” He asks, the question abrupt as it tumbles out of his mouth. You open your mouth, brows furrowed as you look him up and down. “I mean— you wanted to leave, right? To go back to the humans.”

Your mouth turns down at the edges, and Wonwoo finds that he wants to trace the lines of your lips. “I— yeah? But Wonwoo, I don’t mean—“

“I know,” he interrupts, hoping that he’s right in his assumptions about what you were going to say. He steps closer, crouches down next to you. “You can leave. We— we can leave. We’ll go together.”

Wonwoo has never been the adventurous sort; has been perfectly comfortable with his quiet life in the forest. But as he reaches for your hands, envelops them in his own, it feels like an adventure. Venturing out of the forest; it feels like an adventure.

“We?” You echo, staring down at your hands. “What are you talking about?”

“The King has granted permission for you to go back to your people,” Wonwoo tries to speak slower, tries not to notice the sizzle in his skin as he rubs his thumbs across the back of your hands. “And me as well, if you’ll have me.”

“You– you’d leave? For me?” There is disbelief and amazement coating the tones of your voice, and for a dizzying, blinding moment, Wonwoo fears that maybe he has not become as integral a part of you as you have of him. “Wonwoo, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“I’m asking you to let me,” he tells you, careful circles pressed into your skin. “You’ve changed everything I used to know about myself. I can’t be without you, and I want you to be happy. If you can’t be happy here, then we’ll leave.”

“There’ll be hundreds like me,” Wonwoo sees your lip quiver, hears uncertainty and self-consciousness in your voice. He lets go of your hands, glides his fingers up along your arms; tips traveling along the curve of your neck until he reaches your cheeks. There, he stops, carefully cupping your face. Wonwoo hasn’t experienced closeness before, finds that it’s an entirely instinctual thing. He drags his thumbs along the soft skin above your cheekbones, gaze locked to yours. “don’t throw away your life for me.”

“No,” he murmurs, with a confidence that surprises even him. “There’s no one like you. I’m sure I could go to the ends of the world and not find a creature half as stubborn.” At that, you laugh; a soft and fragile sound that echoes like bells in Wonwoo’s sharp ears. It makes him want to lean into it, to consume the sound and trap it within himself.

“Looks like it’s rubbing off on you,” you tell him, a teasing edge to the sound of your voice. “Is this what you really want?” You continue, quieter now, more serious. You reach to gently touch his face, leaving tingles in the wake of your fingertips against his skin. “Do you really think I’m worth it?”

Wonwoo relents, then, gives into his ever growing urges and leans completely into you. His lips press against yours and you gasp into his mouth, the sound only encouraging him further. He pulls at your face, presses fingertips into your skin hard enough to hurt. His eyes close and his mouth moves on its own, a low shudder starting from the back of his neck with the sensation of your soft, pillowy lips against his own.

Your own arms wind around his neck, and suddenly there is no space left, your chest flush against his own and your heart pounding and knocking against his rip cage at a speed that matches his. He pulls, tugs, squeezes as if he wants to merge your bodies together completely. It’s such an overwhelming sensation that he nearly feels like he’s about to explode. Only the need for oxygen makes him pull away, pressing his forehead against yours.

He exhales; it’s as if he’s been unfinished, as if he’s been lacking, as if only now, only with this moment has he become a whole, completed being. He feels elevated, invincible. And he knows, with a certainty he has never felt before, that there is only one way to answer your question.

“Yes.”

TWO MONTHS LATER

Wonwoo sits inside the metal box – a vehicle, you’d told him; a car – leans against the transparent glass at his side. To his left, you’ve got your hands on a circular device, fingers tapping against the smooth, not quite soft material it’s made of. The car makes a loud, booming sound. The sound used to scare him, but he supposes you were right in saying it’s something you get used to quickly.

You turn to look at him, remove a hand from the wheel to grasp one of his. “Wonwoo,” you murmur, thumb stroking pleasant circles into the skin of his palm. “Are you awake?”

He turns to face you, takes in the appearance of a human in its natural habitat. You’re cleaner than you ever was in the forest – thanks to a miracle of a machine called the shower – dressed in a large sweater and pants made out of a coarse, blue fabric. Your hair is tied behind your head and a pair of dark tinted glasses rests at the tip of your nose. There’s something vibrant and alive about your features that he never used to see in the forest. His chest tightens, but it’s a wholly wonderful feeling.

“Yes,” he replies, twists his hand to grasp yours, intertwining your fingers. For weeks, the two of you have been on the road, searching for what you call ‘the hunters’. It sounds like an ominous sort of organization, but you reassure him that they are, as you call them, ‘the good guys’. “Have we arrived?”

You sigh, lean back against the soft backrest of your seat. “No, not yet,” you mutter, an apologetic tint to your voice. “This is proving to be much harder than I thought it’d be.”

You don’t need to tell Wonwoo that; he can see the signs of fatigue easily in the lines of your face. Dark circles paint the underside of your eyes, your body language slower than it used to be. Wonwoo wants to soothe your ailments, to will your tiredness away. As it is, all he can really do is squeeze your hand. He hums.

“We’ll get there,” he says, though he doesn’t even really know where there is. He puts his trust in you, refrains from voicing his concerns about your appearance. “We should stop for the night. You’re tired.”

You open your mouth, a deep, loud exhale falling out from between your lips. He’s right, and he knows that you know it. You only ever make a sound like that when you’re about to give in. His mouth twitches with a self-satisfactory smile.

“The car tonight, then?” You ask rhetorically; there’s not a single house in sight, only a road that seems to go on forever. “I’m sure you’re glad you gave up your immortality for this.” You try to play it off as a joke, but Wonwoo hears the bitterness, the latent sorrow of a return that did not go as planned.

A cult, you’d called it; a group of zealous people with a singular goal and the moral depravity to obtain them by any possible means. Returning to your home outside the forest had sent you right into the middle of a meeting between a dozen masked humans, each more shocked than the next at your appearance. They had seemed nice enough at first, if a bit too interested in Wonwoo’s clearly inhuman form.

A mere fortnight had passed before they had attempted a second sacrifice. Wonwoo swears that the sight of you, tied to a pyre in the middle of an otherwise friendly looking town square, will never quite leave him. Dryads are, first and foremost, creatures of peace, of tranquility. But Wonwoo is no longer a dryad, and his allegiance rests solely with the human he has sworn to spend his now limited lifetime protecting.

He wonders what his King would say, had he known that Wonwoo used the tiny bit of magic he has left to slay an entire human village.

Or what he would say, had Wonwoo told him he would do it again.

“Even death,” Wonwoo says, bringing your hand up to his face, leans against it and brushes his nose against your knuckles. “Would be worth your safety and happiness.” It’s a strong sentiment, way past the range of emotions Wonwoo used to feel just a year ago. Not as strong, though, as the sentiments he keeps to himself, the ones that feel too big, too grand to say out loud.

Something as simple as the fact that he loves you, so much and so strongly that not even the darkest creatures of the underworld could shake his commitment. It feels like a statement too true to say out loud, as if the magic would be broken if he opened his mouth.

“Even losing your home? Everyone you love?”

But then, you always had a way of forcing his hand.

“You are my home,” he says, gazing out at the darkness of the outer world. So many things he has not seen yet. Things bound to be worse, better, stranger than the cult and the forest. “You are–”

The car stops, and you twist around quickly to face him. There’s a genuine sort of smile on your face, a more common occurrence now than ever before. You take his face between your hands, fingertips tracing the lines of his cheekbones. A warmth spreads through his body as he places his own hands on top of yours. “Silly plant boy,” you murmur with affection. “I love you, too.” You press a kiss to his lips, a quick, casual thing. Even that feels like a blessing; a closeness so comfortable that gestures need not be grand anymore.

“We’ll figure it out,” you add, confidently now, seemingly invigorated by your own confession. “We’ll find the hunters and stop that stupid cult,” you grimace at the mention of your previous home and the implications of their depravities. “But first, let’s get some rest.”

Wonwoo might never get used to sleeping in the back of a car, your body heavy on top of his own and your even breathing tickling at his throat, and he might never truly get rid of the queasiness that comes with hours spent riding inside it. But the feel of your hand resting at his side, your legs tangled with his and your lip pressed to the pulse of his neck–

that he’ll adjust to just fine.

#svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios

71 notes · View notes

heartthrobin · 1 year

Text

making merry, oh my little fairy (2)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 5.3k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), hella pining, tooth-rotting fluff, destiel is canon, town being mean to reader, some shaky police jargon, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, canon-typical warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: part 2 of my little fairy series! it's been sitting in my drafts for weeks and part 1 was pretty unpopular so i've been hesitant to post it but then i realized i write for myself and not for recognition! so enjoyyyyy. remember to comment and repost to support your favourite writers :)

summary: you flew around Sam's mind with your pretty little wings all night and all day, it doesn't help that you're popping up around every corner of this case. he's trying not to think about it.

part one part three part four

They'd sat in the car parked out front maybe longer than they should have. Sam noticed you peak through the curtain at the twenty minute mark, he only noticed because he could feel your curious gaze.

It disturbed him enough to allow Dean to fly down the neighbourhood road noisily at too many miles an hour.

Naturally, sleep became a stranger.

Dean was long passed out on the questionably lumpy motel bed and Sam was still at the desk. The white light off his laptop made his eyes itch.

A dryad is a tree nymph, commonly inhabiting oak trees, and generally born into the form of beautiful women. Many dryads were considered to be originally human or children of the nature Gods and it is widely believed that they take on the physical characteristics of the trees they protect.

Your eyes returned to him again, if not for the hundredth time that day. The way the greenery reflected off of them at him. The strength of your legs, how they were wide and grounding like the tree that engulfed your house. Your movements, your walk, how you floated like how the leaves shivered in the forest beyond your garden walls.

Sam had given considerable thought to his soulmate, as most people did.

He was turning thirty-one in a few months time and it had occurred to him that maybe you were on the other side of the world. Maybe you were dead. But people had warned him that he'd know if that were true. He'd feel it, like a gaping wound in his soul.

Castiel had appeared to Dean in a flash of light. In a heroic swoop of love, and Sam thought maybe that could happen to him too.

His thumb was warm where it ran over the scar down his arm.

He wondered if you thought the same.

If you dreamed of his arrival the way he'd dreamed of yours.

It was a silly thing, to dream of meeting your true love. Far too trivial in the life of someone like Sam Winchester when the fate of the world, of good versus evil and heaven versus hell was always in the palm of his hand.

But your figure was burned into his corneas like a blinding torch.

It scared him. Not an easy feat for the man who'd seen it all.

Sam had asked Dean a few years back.

Can someone live without their soulmate?

Dean had shrugged. "Sure, plenty of people do."

Sam had sunk back another sip of his beer at the time, they were somewhere in Florida.

"What if they'd already met them? Can they decide that they don't want to be with them?"

Dean chuckled at that. "I doubt that works out very often."

It was already long after Dean had met Castiel. Long after he'd survived his "my soulmate is an angel and a man what the fuck--" stage.

"What makes you say that? I'm sure some people have a strong enough willpower."

Dean had answered him by referencing some movie, one that Sam knew he loved and it took a bit of pestering for Dean to admit he knew the quote by heart.

He'd blushed nearly red and shrugged, accompanying it by another long slug of his beer.

"It's like at the end of the movie--" When Harry Met Sally, specifically, "When they're at that New Years party and Billy Crystal goes up to Meg Ryan and gives that whole speech, and he says that line."

Sam was grinning by then. "What line?"

Like he hadn't seen the movie enough times to know.

"You know, he when says ... when you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

Sam had long made peace with the fact that even if you did ever come around, that it would be better to leave you be. To leave you in the safety of a life different to his own.

At least he had.

In the slim hours since leaving your doorstep he'd found himself choking over the thought of never seeing you again. Of his eyes never laying again on your face that gazed so happily up into his own, like you felt his warmth in a cold winter.

He was plagued, possessed, by the thought of never knowing more.

Never knowing the way you liked your tea, how you looked first thing in the morning, or worse, how your lips would feel slow and warm against his own.

He wanted to know your favourite song, and your worst fear. He wanted to know where you came from, how you found Fernglade, Washington. What's your favourite book, do you like to read? Would you like it if he read to you instead? Maybe you would, you'd be tucked against his side in bed and he'd tell you about his favourites. His favourite movies and the way he drinks his coffee and the shampoo he used. Maybe you'd play with his hair, braiding little flowers into the ends--

Sam groaned. His face fell into his hands.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not now.

But he supposed there would never be an adequate time for your arrival.

And god, you weren't even human.

Cross species soulmates weren't impossible - improbable, sure (about as much as being hit by lightening) - but not impossible.

It was only Sam's luck, the Winchester's luck, that they'd both been struck.

Castiel was an angel, but the concept seemed to fade off Dean quickly at the time.

Dean himself had been little help on the matter during the blurry drive back to the motel. "Hey. I mean, all things considered, fairy sex must be crazy."

Sam closed the tab on Dryads: A Modern Day Delve into Greek Mythology. Another page blinked up at him.

When the sun was still setting and Dean was still seated across from him, he had managed to do some work.

It distracted him, barely, but he managed to somewhat narrow the list of potential suspects.

The filters helped. Creatures that steal children. Creatures that live in the woods.

In all the webpages and in some text from John's journal he'd found a common thread. A thinly veiled one, but a lead regardless.

Goblins are generally found living in communities in burrows of forests across Western America. They are known to be mischievous and malignant spirits which often feed on small animals or easy prey and hunt during the warmer months before hibernating in Winter.

Children are easy prey, Sam thought.

Some subspecies were believed to be able to shift into the form of naughty children and sneak into nearby villages to prey on young humans.

It was the last thing his eyes ran over before he slipped the laptop shut. He crawled to the bed, wishing more than anything that his mind would cut him a break, before sliding under the sheets: seeking respite from the crisp autumn Washington

"Rise and shine, Sammy."

The hangers reeled noisily against the rod where Dean had ripped open the curtains and the stark light brought Sam to gasping consciousness.

Sam pulled the pillow up over his face, grumbling into it.

He made out the sound of Dean setting a coffee mug on the side table.

"What time did you get to sleep?"

Answered by another indiscernible whine, Dean sunk into the chair at the tiny table in the room. "Fine, fine ... but did you find anything helpful? Besides fairy porn probably."

It earned him a well-aimed smack in the face with a pillow.

Dean laughed jovially, "Okay, okay."

Sam rose up into a sitting position with a moan. He ran a hand over his face, the other grappling for the already cooling coffee mug on the table.

"Goblins." He muttered around the rim.

Dean paused his own sip, face falling into incredulity.

"Did you just say "goblins"?"

Sam nodded. He didn't elaborate.

"Listen, I know it's a conversation you probably don't wanna have ... but are you sure we're ruling out your little garden fairy from this equation? I mean, it really doesn't look good for her--"

"You're right. I don't want to have this conversation."

Dean shrugged. He fiddled with the coffee mug against his hand.

"It's not her." Sam added quietly.

Nodding slowly, Dean watched his brother with tentative eyes. "Have you thought about that? What you're gonna do?"

Sam rose from the bed, stripping off his shirt. "I don't know man. I don't even think she knows."

It had been a thought that occurred to him at some point in the previous night, that you didn't know. That it was probably selfish to keep it to himself.

"Right, well anyway," Dean reached into the tupperware you'd gifted them the previous afternoon. He'd already cleared out his own and was starting on a pastry from Sam's box. "I was thinking we should go speak to the third vic's mom. Kelly Williams. We haven't spoken to them yet and maybe they can tell us more."

Sam nodded. "Sure. You got an address?"

"No, but she's working a stall at..." Dean picked up a leaflet from the table that Sam assumed he'd found on his coffee run before he was up, "The Fernglade Sunday Market. We can find her there."

"Fine."

He disappeared into the bathroom, Dean heard the shower turn on.

"And you can tell me about this goblins story on the way there!" He called after him.

The door slammed shut.

"So you think goblins are coming into town and stealing kids out their back yards?"

The morning was warm and the market made it more so. It was out on a farm a couple roads down from the boys' motel.

There were little set-up stalls as far as he could see over lush green grass, selling cakes and jewellery and home-made soaps. Couples strolled hand-in-hand and children chased their parent's ankles.

Sam shrugged. "I mean yeah, it makes sense. Dad mentioned about the trees, Y/n mentioned about the forest too."

Dean nodded, his eyes rolling over the scenery. "Sure, but goblins? I've never heard of that anywhere, I mean, how do you even kill it?"

"Them." Sam corrected. "They live in groups."

Dean sighed. "Well that's gonna be fun."

Somewhere down the row, a man was singing behind a set up microphone with a guitar in his lap. A small crowd had formed to watch him.

Sam's stomach had begun churning with that feeling that made his organs feel like jelly again. He shrugged against the collar of his shirt.

"Right, well, there's Kelly Williams' stall." Dean glanced again down at the pamphlet, "Rings and Things ... how creative--"

But Sam's eyes had found on another stall. One further down from Kelly Williams', a little set-up of vases and stain glass sculptures. Rather ... they found the woman standing in front of it.

Of course it was you.

Standing against the breeze in another, unsurprisingly, light green dress. It was ruffled and shimmering and glittery and short. It made Sam's airways tighten to a shut.

You seemed intent on avoiding wearing anything that draped any further than just over the curve of your ass, and Sam prayed to anyone listening that it would stay that way.

"Sammy?"

Dean's face shrunk in confusion, he followed his brother's line of sight. He began to laugh, clearly finding you, and jostled Sam with a hand on his shoulder. "Well, isn't this just your luck."

Sam was sucking in deep breaths again. Dean shoved him in the side.

"Go talk to her, I'll speak to Mrs Williams."

Jumping back into semi-consciousness, Sam shook his head, "No, no, it's fine. We'll go--"

"Stop being a baby, Sam." Dean shrugged him off. "You're gonna have to talk to her eventually. And I hope you do a better job than you did yesterday, because that was a train-wreck."

"Thanks."

But Dean's figure was already retreating.

"Asshole." Sam muttered under his breath.

Eyes found you again, they strained against the sunlight. He could make out your face from where he stood: it was twisting, falling into a creased brow that Sam didn't like the look of.

His legs began moving before he had chance to instruct them and it only took a couple paces of his long structure to find your side, heart thumping violently in his ears.

Your eyes lifted from the table, there was an elderly lady sitting in the shade of the cover and looking unimpressed.

"Sam." You smiled up at him and he swore in that second he could listen to you saying his name forever on repeat and never grow bored. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Hey." He sighed, it was louder than he anticipated and he could feel his cheeks growing warmer. "W-What are you doing here?"

You stuttered, "Well, I was just looking at this cute little crocodile--"

His eyes found where your hand was motioning over the woman's table. He was unsurprised to find it littered with stained-glass sculptures of animals. Lions and fish and elephants among others.

But the woman interrupted before you could find the end of your sentence.

"I don't sell to kidnappers."

Her elderly face was curled up in disgust. Sam was taken aback by her directness.

He was more taken aback by your polite smile at her.

"That's fine. I'll be on my way." You nodded kindly, looking back up to Sam. "Wanna take a walk?"

Sam's bones had begun aching with fury in the small seconds since he'd arrived. His brow-bone was heavy set against his eyes.

He glanced over at the crocodile you'd referenced. It was about the size of a shoebox, glassy in bottle green tones and grinning a mouthful of sharp teeth up at him. He could already see it sitting happily on a spot between your books and photo frames, maybe up on the mantle above your fireplace.

Brushing softly against your elbow with his hand, a movement that sent a stone cold shiver up his whole body, he shook his head. "Just one sec--"

He turned to the woman, sticking his finger in the direction of the lifeless creature.

"I'd like to buy that crocodile please."

"Oh, Sam, you don't have to--"

But the woman was unmoved, "No. I'm not selling anything to anyone associated with her."

She stuck a shaking finger in your direction and Sam suddenly wanted to rip the stall to pieces.

"We should just go..." Your voice was small and he fought hard against pulling your frame into his side.

Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket for his FBI identification: flipping it out into the daylight for the woman to see. Her eyes widened behind thinly framed spectacles.

"I said I'd like to buy that crocodile." His voice was stern, heavy laden with his trembling aggravation. "How much is it?"

The woman's face flickered between emotions, before settling on vexation. "Forty dollars." She mumbled.

"I'm sorry?"

"Forty dollars." She replied more clearly, face turning red in embarrassment.

Sam slipped away his badge and dug for his wallet in his pocket, he flipped between the notes and handed her two twenty dollar bills. The woman was quiet while she wrapped the creature, avoiding your and Sam's eyes in the process.

She handed it over with a scathing, "Get away from my stall."

"With pleasure." He turned to you, your face was a cherry red shade. "I'll take you up on that walk."

You stepped away, offering a small sheepish "thanks" to the woman scowling at your and Sam's retreating figures.

"Here." He handed you the crocodile gently, and you took it with tentative hands. "Get a lot of that?"

But you shrugged off his question, grabbing for your purse. "You really didn't need to do this, Sam. Let me just pay you--"

Sam stopped, taking your forearm into his hand - the tingle it sent up his body again didn't go amiss - and he huffed. "Please, please. Don't. It's a gift."

The sun was shining off your dress and it made your face seem lighter. "Sam, really, I can't ask you to--"

"Please?"

You paused, lashes blinking carefully up at him and god he could really kiss you right there--

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Smiling again, easing the tightness in Sam's chest, you nodded. "Fine."

You held the crocodile up to your face, "What are we gonna name him?"

"We?" Sam laughed and you laughed back at him.

"Sure, he's ours now." You tucked it under your arm again.

Ours. He was fragmentally taken away with the thought of something belonging to them, to us. A house, a couch, a dog (or a fox if that's what you wanted)--

"Anyways, where's the other one?"

Sam was brought back to the conversation.

"Oh, uh, Dean?" his eyes grazed over the stalls, pointing over to where Dean was talking with the tall Kelly Williams behind a tray of seashell necklaces. "Talking to one of the victims."

"Right, I almost forgot." You fiddled with your bag over your shoulder. "He decided whether he's killing me yet?"

His mouth tilted teasingly. "What makes you think that I've decided I'm not here to kill you?"

You shrugged, teeth flashing in a gut-wrenchingly beautiful smile. "Well, you bought me this, and ... you don't seem the type."

"The type?"

"Nah, you're too sweet on me already."

Sam's stomach did a somersault in his chest. "I--"

"Besides, you couldn't do it here. Too much blood, too many witnesses ..."

Sam's hair flicked over his shoulder where he tossed his head back to laugh. "Right. You've thought about the logistics already."

"Sure have." You nodded. "Any headway on the kids?"

"Some." He shrugged. "There's this fairy--"

"Dryad."

"--living in this petting zoo in this cottage on the outskirts of town..."

"Fine." You conceded. "I won't ask."

"No, but we have--"

"Ah, look at you two. Getting along like a house on fire."

Sam hadn't noticed his brother's approaching footsteps. Dean clapped a jolly hand over his brother's arm.

You smiled in greeting. "Good morning Dean."

He nodded. "'Morning Tinkerbell."

"Dean."

Chuckling you nodded. "Good one. Haven't heard that before."

The sun was hot on Sam's shoulders, Dean was making it hotter with his conspicuous side eye.

"What's that you got there?" He motioned over the figure under your arm.

You lifted it up proudly, "It's my crocodile. Sam got it for me. The lady wouldn't sell it to me."

"Oh, Sam got it for you, huh?" Dean smirked, relishing in the admission.

"Yep."

The glitter in your eye was making Sam's knees buckle.

"W-We should get going ..." He shifted from his one leg to the other. "Work to do ... and stuff."

"Right," you agreed, fixing the strap over your shoulder again. "I should also head home, not very welcome 'round here anyways."

Confusion glazed briefly over Dean's face but he said nothing on it.

"Yeah, stuff to do." He nodded.

You began your walk past them, finding Sam's gaze. "Thanks again, Sam. I'll see you boys around."

His eyes followed you where your crystals were clinking around your neck. "Yeah. No problem."

Barely out of your earshot, Dean turned to Sam. "A crocodile, huh?"

"Shut up."

It wasn't another two days before Sam saw you again.

The boys dove head first back into research, Mrs Kelly Washington hadn't much more to add beyond the fact that she heard another child's voice in the moments before her daughter's disappearance.

"I mean, there was some mention in the lore about goblins being able to turn into kids. Naughty ones at that."

Dean sighed over his bar-top lunch. He took another swig of beer.

"Okay, so what, these ... goblins are coming into town as children and grabbing the kids from their yards? Maybe they'd met somewhere before then, at school or the park?"

Sam shifted the salad around his plate, bored. "Yeah, maybe."

There was a depressingly thin amount of information in John's journal on goblins and the website lore was too broad to even begin sifting through it before another child was taken.

"Well we know that eight kids are taken each time, right?"

Nodding, Sam took an unenthusiastic bite of tomato.

"That means there's still two kids to be taken. I mean, there's only been six victims and autumn is two weeks away from ending, if the story is true that they hunt before winter."

The boy's didn't have to wait long. They were less than an hour clear of the dilapidated bar they'd stopped in for lunch when the call came over the police monitor in the car.

"Units, this is dispatch. We have a suspected 134 at 98 Calvary, requesting assistance."

Code 134. Kidnapping.

Dean found Sam's eye across the front seat before taking a screeching turn into the next street.

Cavalry road was just a few streets down and the scene was as they'd expected. Burning red and blue cop cars littered the street and Dean pulled the Impala into a space between them.

There was a scuffle of officers, in the corner of the driveway a man holding a sobbing woman to his chest. The parents.

Dean and Sam flashed their badges at the nearest deputy.

"What's the situation?"

The officer huffed, tightening his grip on either side of his belt. "We think the kid was taken, Frankie Moore. Disappeared about two hours ago, the parents only called in the last twenty minutes. They thought he'd just run off."

Dean nodded and Sam watched over the scene around him.

"Any witnesses?"

The cop shook his head, Taylor, his badge read. "None. Right out the backyard, just like the others."

"Did the parents see anything, hear anything?" Sam pressed.

"Not from what we can gather from them right now, they're pretty out of shape." Taylor motioned back to where the Mrs Moore was desperately pushing out sentencing between racking sobs. "But we've got a suspect, they're out fetching them right now."

Dean glanced over the officer, "A suspect?"

Sam's hands were starting to itch. He twisted them against his the cuffs of his sleeve.

"Yeah, neighbour saw them out in the forest about an hour ago. Called it into dispatch. They never took it seriously until this call came in."

Somewhere behind them a short siren yelped from one of the cars.

"Did they have the kid or what?" Dean's face was laden with confusion, the story twisting around his brain.

"No, but they've been taken in on suspicion. Talk of the town and such." Taylor responded and Sam's heart sunk to his knees.

There was a click over the officer's radio. "Suspect is in custody."

He pulled it closer to his mouth, "Copy that."

Sam tugged up on the end of his sleeve, revealing his wrists in the afternoon light. They were turning a pinkish red. Handcuffs.

"Dean."

Dean's back stiffened at his brother's tone, eyes finding his wrists. He sighed. "You've got to be kidding me."

Sam's brain was turning muddy. "The suspect, is she a woman?"

Taylor nodded. "As far as I know, yes."

There was nothing else said.

Sam fled the scene as if the perpetrator himself. He flew into the passenger's seat with the force of an attacking bear.

Dean chased after him, slotting the key into the ignition: setting the car alight.

"Sam, I know what you're thinking--"

Houses flew past the car, streets and pedestrians, but Sam had no space to consider them.

"You don't know what I'm thinking."

But Dean was persistent, knuckles white around the wheel. "She's your ... your soulmate, I get that, but our leads are thin. Have you considered that she could really be doing this?"

The station came into view at the end of the road. Lights from the cars were flashing in Sam's eyes. His head spun.

"She's not a monster, Dean."

"But she is, Sam! She is! She's not a human."

Dean pushed down on the brake in front of the sheriff's station and Sam was out the car before it had fully pulled to a stop.

He threw the doors open. Officers were flocking around like seagulls over an abandoned hot dog.

Sam grabbed the arm of the nearest one, firm in his grip.

"The suspect, where is she?"

"Uh, they've just moved her to--"

The doors swung open again behind him and the rumbling of the station was overpowered by a loud low whine. It was followed by an equally distressed yelp.

Sam turned to find a row of officers, leading one after the other like ducks, each with a rattling metal cage of a different animal. Your animals.

Goose was yipping wildly in the confines of the box. A woman holding Lydia followed him. They come in procession: the rabbits, the ferrets, the ducks, the budgies.

"What the fuck!" An officer close to the door jumped out the way where Lydia hissed angrily at him from between the bars.

"No, please!"

Sam spun on his heel. His hands felt heavy with helplessness. It was your voice, echoing across the station and reverberating in his brain.

"Please, just leave them! They're not gonna hurt anyone. I haven't done anything--"

His feet chased after the sound. Sam found a long corridor near the back of the room, there were two officers tugging on either of your arms. Your eyes were bouncing wildly between each of the officers where they disappeared into the evidence room with your pets.

Your gaze found his own. "Sam!"

"Y/n." He was bounding down the corridor, long stretches of leg, but the officers were adamant in their grip.

"Sam, I promise I didn't-- it wasn't me. I swear--"

There was a loud huff and a heave and you stumbled backwards into a closed holding cell. Your hands wrapped between the bars.

"I know," Sam was breathless. "I know you didn't--"

Suddenly there was hands on his chest. "Sir, you need to get out of here."

"I need to speak with her--"

"Sir you can't do that. You need to speak to the sheriff."

Sam's chest was rumbling with a frenzied desperation. He couldn't pull his eyes off the fragments of your figure behind the bars.

The officers shoved him again. "Sir--"

He ripped himself off their grip, hair flushed back against his reddening face and he turned back down the corridor.

Dean was already at the sheriff's desk.

"--suspicious behaviour--"

"What the hell is going on?" Sam's voice rumbled across the room. "On what basis are you holding her?"

The sheriff was a small man and he looked smaller under Sam's furious stature.

"It's like I was telling your partner here, agent," He was patting a handkerchief over his balding head. "Y/n Y/l/n is being held on the basis of suspicious activity."

"What exactly is your definition of suspicious activity?"

The sheriff shrugged, "Well we got a call in of her roaming around the forest--"

Sam could feel his fists tightening at his sides, "What are people not allowed to go into the forest in this town or does that make them all kidnappers? You have no evidence--"

"Sammy, calm down." Dean's hand found Sam's chest but he shrugged him off.

"Release her. Right now."

But the sheriff shook his head. "Unfortunately, not even FBI have the power to do that. State's laws say she can be detained for 12 hours pending investigative procedures."

"Investigative procedures--?"

By then, Dean had him by the arm. "Okay, okay. Let's go cool off--"

He tugged Sam towards the door, surprising both himself and Dean by allowing him to do so successfully.

The cool dusk air rushed over his face. Sam took a deep breath.

"They have no evidence, Dean--"

"I get that, but you need to calm down. You're not helping the situation by threatening the sheriff."

An officer passed them with another cage. Three hedgehogs.

Sam ran a hand over his face. He took a deep breath.

"You don't even believe she's innocent, Dean."

There was quiet for a long moment.

Sam fell into a bench bolted against the side of the building. His hands found his face again. After a moment, Dean crouched into the spot beside him.

"Look." He sighed. "If you believe her, I believe you. Alright?"

Sam's eyes were watching his shoes. He nodded, only half believing his brother's claim.

They sat like that for nearly an hour with evening settling over Fernglade around them and the autumn crisp seeping into their suits.

After a long resounding silence, one that had stretched on past Dean's wide yawn, Dean rose to his feet.

"Sammy, we should go home. Get some headway on this goblins angle."

At that, Sam shook his head. "I'm gonna stay."

"What, until she's out?"

"Yeah."

Dean's eyes were dripping in pity and it made Sam's blood boil.

"That's--" he raised his watch into his eyeline, "She's still got another ten hours. It's only six o' clock now."

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"Sam--"

"Dean."

Another cold silence.

Sam pressed his hair back with a wide hand, conceding. "Look, I'm sorry. But I'm gonna stay. You head back to the motel, do some work and get some sleep. I'll be fine."

Dean considered him, but he made no further argument and Sam thought momentarily it was maybe because he knew he couldn't budge him in the same argument with Cas.

"Alright. Fine." Dean nodded, tugging his jacket closer against the cold. "I'll see you in the morning."

Sam watched his brother's retreating figure all the way until the Impala had disappeared down the next street before going to stand.

The doors swung open with a whine, the station had cooled to a quieter buzz than when he'd first burst in. The sheriff had disappeared into an office off in the corner of the room.

Finding the nearest officer, Johnson, behind a short wooden desk, Sam approached him.

Officer Johnson glanced warily up at him from the papers he'd been filling out. He'd probably been witness to his first outburst.

"Uhm," Sam cooled his voice to a deferential timber. "The animals at the back, what's gonna happen to them?"

The officer set his pen down, "Well I'm doing the paperwork on them now. They'll be released if and when she does."

"If?"

He shrugged, "Yeah, if they don't find anything they'll let her go. Only got twelve hours."

Sam shifted his weight, running his eyes over the station. Somehow it was colder inside than the bench he'd just abandoned.

"Right."

The image returned to him again of your tiny green dress, the satin sleeves that reached down over your arms - he wondered for a moment if you wore them to cover all his scars - and the shiny ends that left your legs a prize for the bite of the freezing air that nipped at him even through all his layers.

He dug his hands into his coat pocket, pulling out his badge and his wallet and his phone to slip them into his pant pockets. Then he shrugged out the jacket.

Sam held it out to the officer. "Would you mind giving this to her?"

The officer took it with tentative hands, he gave it a glance over but made no move to stand.

"There's nothing in it." Sam huffed. "It's freezing in here, and unless you want her to die of hypothermia before morning, I suggest you do what I've asked."

He was considering it, Sam could tell by how his eyes flickered over the office door behind which the sheriff was hiding, but eventually elected to stand.

"Fine."

comment and repost if you enjoyed <3

taglist:

@firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey @haileycannotcometothephonern @i-cant-write-for-shit @did-someone-change-my-name @1313ek @chlorine11 @ch33ze00 @random-fandom-gurl @melancholicandmessy @harley-quinns-girlfriend @cardigan-ns @charliethealpaccaso @crystalandphoebewifey @nonbinarycryptic @multitargaryen @darylsleathervest @aquatic-bread @ferrersbiggestfan @miles-stargirl @secretsuitcasegooplawyer

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x you #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester drabble #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you

253 notes · View notes