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idiopath-fic-smile · 1 year ago

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this one goes out to all my Singin' in the Rain ot3 truthers—

Cosmo Brown had always known it would end like this.

Cosmo was a lot of things—in fact, you could argue he was too many—but he wasn’t dumb.

From the early years, when Cosmo and Don were just kids playing for pennies in pool halls, to their stint dodging rotten vegetables on Vaudeville stages across the very backwaters of America’s backwaters, to their first real breath of success in Hollywood (and then the second and the third and the fourth), Cosmo would catch a glimpse of his handsome, charismatic friend from the corner of his eye—a flash of dark hair, that perfect tooth powder ad smile—and know that for all Don’s protestations, someday the guy was gonna meet a wonderful girl and get married, settle down, and very gently slip off to the far edge of Cosmo’s life.

So yes, Cosmo had seen Kathy Selden coming. Not the details, not her sense of humor or her musical little laugh or the madcap way she really threw herself into dancing with them around Don’s place at 1:30 in the morning—and okay, certainly not the part at the beginning where she had jumped out of a cake at a party, but he thought a fella could be excused for not correctly divining that.

The general outline of the thing, though, how Don’s eyes followed her around a room...he had been preparing for Don to propose to Kathy ever since she’d tried to throw a pie at Don’s face. And when the happy day came, Cosmo had been ready with his best man suit, his best man speech, a slightly updated version of “Here Comes the Bride” that’d had Don and Kathy laughing all the way down the aisle.

Don and Kathy would buy a house together. They would have a swimming pool and a dog and then inevitably, a small parade of adorable little snot-nosed kids who would call him Uncle Cosmo, and they would spend less and less time with him, not on purpose but busy with the rest of their lives, and ultimately Cosmo would learn to make his peace with it because he’d have no other choice and he would have to try to move on and not live too much in his memories. He could picture it so clearly, he figured if the songwriting gig with Monumental didn’t pan out, he could always return to the backwater circuit with a new act: The Amazing Cosmo of the Cosmos—ladies and gentlemen, he sees the future, he reads the stars, he silently pines for his best married pal and all the while tap dancing!

Don and Kathy inviting him along on their honeymoon, though—that part was a surprise.

“What?” said Cosmo, hands frozen over the piano keys. He’d been busy with a brand-new assignment; on the heels of The Dancing Cavalier, offers were pouring in and he’d taken the first one scoring a movie that didn’t star anyone he was secretly in love with.

Don had looked a little wounded when Cosmo broke the news last week, but a guy had to start making his own way in the world. Besides, orchestrating layers of strings to swell as the camera zoomed in on Don and Kathy blissfully locking lips in radiant monochrome, oblivious to the rest of the world—well, Cosmo knew that dance, he had mastered the footwork, and he didn’t especially feel like a reprise.

It wasn’t lost on him that Kathy had dropped by his rehearsal space alone today. Of course, he had no idea what this meant—he didn’t think it was about the new job; Don didn’t tend to stay sore at him for that long—but Kathy was acting perfectly natural, and so probably the smart thing was to follow her lead.

“It’s a two-week transatlantic cruise,” she said now, gracefully dropping beside him on the piano bench. “We thought it would be nice to see Europe, take in the sights, get away from all the cameras.”

“Ah yes, such a wallflower, our dear Don,” said Cosmo solemnly. “Besieged on all sides by the love of his public, a tragedy of our times, up there with Lear! Hamlet! Caesar! The one with all the Greeks and the giant wooden horse, nay, nay, neigh.” He played a tragic little trill, for effect. Kathy huffed a laugh and smacked his arm.

“You know that’s not it,” she said. “Being watched all the time—we can’t always do what we want. It’s rotten.”

Tell me about it, thought Cosmo.

He was sort of seeing a fight choreographer named Archibald, who came from old money and was a “the third” or a “the fifth” but nice enough Cosmo might even forgive him for that. Archibald was trim and athletic, with dark brown hair that was just starting to go gray at the temples and enough discretion that Cosmo didn’t think they’d get caught. The only problem was that he didn’t laugh at Cosmo’s jokes, seemed to just tolerate them.

“What do you two even talk about, then?” Don had asked, when Cosmo had let this slip over drinks the same night he’d explained about the new movie project. (Cosmo had been trying to spend less time with Don and Kathy since the wedding but Don had said, “C’mon, pal, we miss you” and Kathy had laid one hand on his arm and peered up at him with her big green eyes and Cosmo was only one man.)

Cosmo had frowned, because Don hated Archibald, for reasons that were frankly mysterious. Then he’d looked up and grinned a grin he didn’t exactly feel and said,

“Tell you when you’re older,” and then Don had choked on his dry Martini even though Cosmo knew Don knew about Cosmo’s tendencies. It wasn’t something they discussed, and Cosmo had never properly gone with a guy before, but whenever a big-shot producer started complaining about all the degenerate queers in showbiz, Don always sharply steered the conversation someplace else. It was all very gallant and noble and knightly, and someday Don would play King Arthur and Kathy his lady Guinevere—

“Honestly, sometimes it feels as if we’re living in a fishbowl,” said Kathy now, in the present.

“And so your solution is to relocate,” said Cosmo, “to the biggest fishbowl on this here magnificent earth. The mighty ocean!” He struck up a sea shanty. “Oh blow the man down, blow the man down / way ay, blow the man down…”

Not everyone appreciated his musical flights of fancy, but when Cosmo turned, she was leaning with her elbow on the side arm of the piano, watching him with her chin on her hand and laughing.

“Just for two weeks,” she said. “So, are you coming?”

“With you two,” said Cosmo, just so there could be no misunderstandings. “On your one and only honeymoon.”

“Yes,” said Kathy.

“As what, your first mate?”

“Sure.” She grinned and threw him a quick salute. Cosmo was almost never attracted to women but in this case, he understood the appeal.

He swallowed. “You are aware of that ancient saying, ‘Two’s company and three’s a fast track to divorce court’?”

“You’re hardly a threat to our marriage, Cosmo,” she said, and he agreed, of course, in both directions, even, but it still stung to hear her say it out loud. For want of anything better to do, he gasped, clutched a hand to his chest and reeled backwards so hard, he threw himself off the piano bench, landing in a somersault on the floor.

Kathy spun around fluidly on the bench to face him, pleated skirt whirling a little, heels of her shoes clicking together.

“Oh, I said that badly,” she said. “I only mean that it’s more fun when you’re around. We have a better time, Don and me both. Remember the night we decided to make Dueling Cavalier a musical?”

“Do I remember the best night of my life?” Cosmo peered up at her from the hardwood. “Why yes, madam, now that you mention it, I believe it might ring a bell or two.”

“The best—” She frowned for a moment, and he remembered then that as a newly married woman, a newly married woman to Don Lockwood, no less, she’d no doubt experienced any number of evenings that blew that one out of the water.

Even besides that, it felt awfully revealing all of a sudden. Cosmo threw an arm over his eyes. He felt naked. He wished he was naked, because that might at least distract from whatever his face was doing.

“So it beats your time with Archibald, then?” said Kathy shrewdly.

Cosmo uncovered his eyes. He forgot, sometimes, that new as Kathy was to the moving pictures business, she was still a city girl, with a city girl’s worldliness. Also, Don had probably told her; that seemed like the kind of second-hand secrets married people shared with each other. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Hardly a topic for mixed company,” he said.

There was a pause.

“So yes,” she said and smiled with a smugness that would’ve been unbecoming were she not as cute as a button.

“What do you and Don have against the poor man anyway?” he groused. “He’s never done so much as sneezed in your direction, and if he did, I’m sure he’d use a handkerchief.”

“For one thing, we know you could do better,” said Kathy, folding her arms.

Cosmo elbowed his way back to sitting, brushing himself off with dignity. “Well, better’s not exactly knocking on my door right now.”

“This town doesn’t have an ounce of sense.” She reached down to offer him a hand up, pulling Cosmo to his feet; she was stronger than she looked. “Listen, two weeks away, it’ll be good for you.”

“What about you two?” Cosmo protested as he reclaimed his spot on the bench, Kathy sliding to make room.

“What about us?” said Kathy with wide eyes.

“Two newlyweds might want some alone time?” he offered weakly.

Kathy shrugged. “I told you, there won’t be reporters or cameras. It’ll be plenty private.”

“What about your matrimonial needs?”

“Which needs?”

His eyes narrowed; she was a terrific actress but suddenly he wasn’t sure he was buying it. Kathy wasn’t dumb either.

“You have to know what I mean. Don’t make me play Cole Porter at you,” said Cosmo. She hesitated, and Cosmo began to pluck out a melody: “Birds do it, bees do it / even educated fleas do it…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Let’s do it,” sang Kathy, finishing the stanza in her lovely alto, “let’s fall in love.”

Cosmo stopped playing.

“I do know,” she said simply, “of course I do, and we’re not worried about it, alright? Listen, do you want to go?”

Cosmo, who had been carefully not asking himself that question, stared down at the piano keys. Did he want to go? He thought back to that night at Don’s, the three of them giddy with excitement and inspiration and sleep deprivation, running through the house, clowning around and dancing with no audience except each other—he hadn’t felt like a hanger-on then, like a third wheel or an extra limb or a chaperone. He’d felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be, one note of a perfect chord.

Still.

“I can’t swim,” he said.

“They’ll have lifejackets,” said Kathy.

“I’ll have to work.”

“We’ll bring a piano.”

“All my houseplants will die,” said Cosmo.

“All your houseplants are fake,” she said. This was true, although he wasn’t sure how she knew since she’d never been to his house. She sighed. “Remember the night of that first screening, when you were about to expose Lina and instead of explaining what was happening, Don told me I had to sing, that I didn’t have a choice?”

He winced, thinking of Kathy’s heartbroken, tear-stained face before they’d pulled up the curtain and revealed who was really singing when Lina moved her lips.

“Yes, and I feel just awful about it.”

“Well, Don doesn’t,” said Kathy. “Because he knew it would take too long to convince me to do something that mean to her.”

“Mean?” Cosmo echoed. “She tried to trap you in a lifelong contract and steal your voice. A common sea witch wouldn’t stoop so low.”

“But there wasn’t time,” she pressed. “And anyway, he knew how it would end.”

“What’s your point?”

“We already bought your tickets,” said Kathy.

Cosmo gaped at her.

“We’ve cleared the trip with everyone at Monumental and anyway, like I said, we’ll have a piano on the boat.”

Distantly, he was aware his mouth was still hanging open. Kathy reached over with one light finger under his chin and gently closed it.

“That’s better,” she said, folding her hands daintily in her lap. It was around this time she seemed to realize it wasn’t some routine, that Cosmo really was well and truly stunned. “Of course, nobody is going to force you to go with us if you truly don’t want to,” she said into the silence.

“These tickets,” he said at last, “are they refundable?”

“Gosh,” said Kathy easily, “I can’t imagine they are, no.”

The thing was, none of them were hurting for money or work anymore, so the fact that Don and Kathy might be out even a few hundred dollars didn’t catch at him the way it might’ve some years earlier. No, the thought that really seized his imagination was the mental image of Don and Kathy planning this together, Don and Kathy discussing the matter with each other, maybe over breakfast—toast and coffee in their dressing gowns, so sure it was the right thing to do that they’d decided to just go ahead and make preparations: oh and a ticket for Cosmo, of course.

He could do it, he realized. He could go. He wanted to go. It was foolish, but Cosmo was an entertainer; he’d been doing foolish things in front of a roomful of witnesses since he was in shortpants.

“I’ll pack tonight,” he said.

“Perfect!” Kathy hopped off the bench and straightened out her dress. “And bring something nice to wear at dinner for a night or two; it doesn’t need to be black-tie formal, a good suit will do.”

He nodded. “I shall leave the top hat and monocle at home. Two weeks, you say?”

“Yes, and another half-day on either side flying to the harbor and back.” She reached into her coat pocket, and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “The itinerary,” she said. “Don and I are so glad you’ll be coming.”

“Uh-huh,” said Cosmo. “Say, where is that fella, anyway? What’s the big idea, can’t even stick around to ask his best pal to his own honeymoon?”

“He’s planning the trip,” said Kathy brightly. “Last-minute details. Anyway, he thought you and I should have a chat, one on one. He thought it might help.”

He blinked. “Help what?”

“Help us,” she said.

It was all starting to feel like a farce, like one of those old Vaudeville acts with a lot of fast talking.

“Did it?” he asked.

“I think so,” said Kathy warmly. She turned and began to walk towards the door. “See you at the airport tomorrow. Six AM sharp.”

“Six AM,” he said, and then, foolishly, “You know, I can see why he likes you.”

Kathy dimpled. “Oh, likewise!” She tossed him another smile and then she was heading out of sight down the hallway, shoes clacking rhythmically on the tile.

“Well,” said Cosmo to no one. He felt pole-axed, he decided. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt pole-axed in his life before, but there was no other word for it.

He played a chord, then another chord, then a few more.

“Pole-axed,” he sang, “out of whack, when you are near there’s only one drawback: I can’t be clever, no I lack the knack, Darling, I’m pole-axed, out of whack around you!”

It wasn’t exactly Cole Porter, but he’d take it, he thought, reaching for his pen. There was still an hour or two left before he’d need to race traffic home and dig out his suitcase. Apparently, he had early morning plans.

(ETA: if you didn't see, there is now a second part here!)

(ETA THE SECOND: the whole finished thing is now here!

#singin in the rain ot3 #i might write more idk but listen like you can probably imagine the rest of it #old-timey polyamorous shenanigans on a boat #pretty straightforward stuff #there's singing there's dancing and somehow don managed to 'accidentally' book cosmo in an adjoining bedroom etc etc

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itsphoenix0724 · 10 months ago

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Can You Kill A God? (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: No one will ever forget why you are Death's queen ever again.

Based on another fic I wrote which you can read here

Warnings: Gore, blood, the reader is a little sinister but I love it, SMUT (unprotected sex, breeding kink?, oral: m and f receiving)

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I've been really missing Death!Az and Life!Reader recently. Also, I've had an obsession with Get In The Water from Epic the musical and this is what spawned. I did set in Ancient Greece so I did mention a Greek city. Happy New Year!!!

It started as a petty slight. Some stupid mortal king had said they feared Death more than War, so the god had raged a challenge. Your husband doesn’t normally involve himself in other matters, he had no need.

Eris was irrelevant to him.

Of all the other gods he is the only one who was inevitable, who would be permanent despite all odds. Azriel didn’t even feel the need to acknowledge the God of War, but he had started harming your creations, which was unacceptable in his eyes.

The souls had come into the underworld brutalized, they curled into your lap as you wiped their tears with the gossamer of your gown and told you that they had been sent as a message. You shed your own tears as you escorted them to eternal paradise and Death’s eyes went dark with promise as he cupped your jaw.

Then he prepared for battle.

You had to return to the overworld soon, the last phases of winter thawing into springtime greenery. He would sort this mess out before you leave his protection realm. Azriel gathered his allies and they outfitted themselves for combat. He took care to strap the armor to your chest, the gauntlets on your arms, and around your calves, kissing his devotion before securing every piece of metal. You did the same to him taking extra care to protect his heart.

The sight of you almost sent him to his knees.

There are still flowers wound through your hair, nightshade and belladonna make a deadly crown, and the golden glow that seems to permanently surround you bounces off the obsidian steel of your armor.

The battle had been bloody and long, it felt as if you’ve been here for days. Your dress was torn, the cloth shredded around your feet. Blood covered your entire front, caked and cracked into your skin.

You cannot kill a god.

But that doesn’t make the battle any less gruesome.

Nothing would touch you thanks to Death looming over your shoulder. Every attack that may have hit you was deflected by your husband and vice-versa until the God of War catches onto this little tactic and baits Azriel by attacking you. Az had jumped in front of you, a wall of shadows blasting the God of War back a few feet at the risk of wounding him.

But Death had fallen, red blood spilling sickly and sweet onto the fresh spring grass. It reminds you of a splitting pomegranate as the red seeps out and stains the dirt, every god in the field halts their battle and watches

You fall to your knees in front of him, vines starting to curl around him as your magic begs to erupt from your chest to protect what’s yours. Eris gloats from his spot hovering in the air, laughing at Azriel struggling to breathe around the blood coming up his throat. The thorn vines wrap around Azriel to ward off any who might try to weaken him further as you rise to your feet.

“Flower,” he wheezes around a cracked rattle in his throat, shaking his head and trying to sit up. You shush him gently pouring golden light into his chest that does nothing. You are not the Goddess of Healing, life will never stop death, so Az will have to heal on his own. War still mocks your shushing, your tears, calling your magic pathetic.

The earth beneath you starts to rumble.

You are the Goddess of Life, the Goddess of the Earth, the World Shaker, and you will make every God here remember why you are Queen of the Underworld.

Rising to your feet, the earth grumbles and shudders under the very force of your erratic heartbeat. War made a mistake waging this battle in Sparta, his arrogance will be his downfall. Your entire body shakes with rage as you stare at Eris from his spot in the air.

“Get on the ground Eris.” Your voice rumbles in time with the splitting of the earth and War widens his eyes at the splintering ground. Yet, his overconfidence keeps him hovering out of your reach.

“Go home, Little Goddess” He drawls, “You’ve been beaten.” he spits at you with venom in his eyes—a dark, dark laugh bubbles out of your chest like molten lava.

“If you don’t come down here I will collapse every wall in your city, and kill everyone in it.” You glare up at him, and he laughs shaking his head in disbelief. “Don’t believe me?” You quirk a brow and the rise around the city starts to shake. “Tell me God, what happens when every last worshiper of yours is dead?” His eyes widen in fear then.

Because that is how you kill a god, you force them into the darkness of being forgotten until they waste away like little more than salt in water.

Faster than a breath thorn-covered vines shoot from the earth and surround War kicking and screaming, golden light begins to glow brightly from your eyes as your fury hauls him to the ground.

People seem to forget that Death is the calm acceptance of something coming to an end. Life joins this realm wailing its existence to the stars, Life can be a very violent thing.

You will break him beyond repair, you can’t hear the sounds of Eris choking on his blood, the only noise in your head is the dull thumping of a war drum. He fights back with as much power as he can muster, but you’re barely trembling with the effort it takes to hold him there. The sinister in your smile reflects in his shining, terrified eyes.

How pretty would it be if lilies sprouted from his lungs?

Someone may be calling your name but you can’t hear anything, the tunnel vision threatening to collapse you entirely. You might not be able to kill him like this but regrowing all of his organs certainly would take some time. Feeling the golden power writhe and wrap around his heart, begging you to let it off its leash and crush, but it’s then that you feel the cooling darkness wrap around your shoulders. Death sweeps his chill gaze over War after rising to his feet. You still hold the line firm, one arm shooting out to block Azriel from any further advancement. The light in your eyes still refuses to dim, but Az wraps a hand around your jaw delicately turning your face toward him.

“You’ve made your point My Love,” the steady weight of his hand calms the rising heat in your blood. “It’s time to let him go.” Azriel didn’t particularly care if you ripped Eris apart and scattered him to the seas, but he knew the guilt would threaten to drag you into the abyss entirely. The light dims, and you drop your hand. Eris falls to the ground like a puppet dropped from strings, coughing blood like shiny red rubies onto the grass. You’re only looking at Az, the wash of reassurance running over your body as you finally process that he’s whole–that he’s standing.

He’s alright.

Death doesn’t deign to even look at War as shadows come around you like dark silk, and you’re back in his realm. He finally sags into your arms as he lets the facade drop, the real pain and exhaustion catching up to him. Az thinks you might call for a medic, but it feels like someone is holding his head underwater. The silk of the sheets feels distant against his skin as your hand strokes his face, and he finally lets his eyes slip closed.

Azriel sleeps for four days.

He wakes in your bedroom, your presence absent, but a pitcher of water remains on the bedside table. The armor he’d donned for battle had been stripped from him, replaced by a black chiton that fell loosely around his chest and hips. He chugs half the water in one go as his power reaches out frantically for you, his heart settles when he feels like your golden aura, and he rises to set off looking.

He finds you beneath an ever-blooming willow tree in Asphodel fields, reading animatedly to a group of children, the golden reeds bellowing in the fresh spring air. They scatter as he leans against the trunk, giggling and laughing as they chase each other into the meadow. You’re overjoyed when you see your husband, throwing his arms around him and crashing his lips to yours.

“Are you all right?” You mutter, gently pushing back the curtain of black hair that had fallen into his eyes. You’re so delicate with him, Azriel feels his heart skip two beats in his chest.

“I’m content,” He hums lazily dropping his nose into your hairline, the lingering smell of lilies floods his senses and calms his nerves as it always does. He nudges his nose to your pulse point before biting gently at your fluttering heartbeat.

“Azriel,” your voice reverberates into his chest, twinning heartbeats thudding together. “You’re still injured.” he continues his exploration of your neck, nipping his displeasure at your attempt to coddle him. Your body shudders as he finds a sensitive point, and you can feel his smug smile at your jugular.

“Let me worship my Goddess in peace,” he rumbles relishing in the feel of your skin and the golden warmth of the fresh sun. He drops to his knees in the dirt, pressing devotion into the curve of your knee as your back thumps against the bark of the willow. He smirks as flowers bloom around you in time with your bashfulness, red poppies matching the pretty flush on your cheeks.

“The souls,” You whip your head from side to side as he runs his hands along the sensitive skin of your thighs. He tilts his head in contemplation, hazel eyes reflecting the warmth like molten gold.

You feel his power ripple around you and a blanket of silence covers the area. Everything goes quiet, no birds chirping or animals running through the surrounding forest, even the rustling of the grass in the wind falls silent under his command.

“No one will bother us now,” Azriel muses, continuing his travels, you squirm under his attention as he climbs higher and higher.

“You’ve been asleep for four days,” You barely get the words out as he runs his thumb delicately over the apex of your thighs, enjoying the feel of you under his hands. “You should really eat something,” He growls his frustration as he bites a dark mark on the sensitive skin.

“I’m trying too, if you would stop interrupting me.” His eyes turn almost black as he focuses his attention on your core again, brushing aside the scrap of silk covering you. Az lets out a guttural moan as your scent floods his senses. He dives in then, feasting on you like he needs it more than air.

He’s wasted precious time with you since he’s been asleep, winter is caving to the sweet spring, but it seems the cold is listening to his prayers and holding on just a little longer. He licks straight to your center, tasting the honeyed sweetness as it floods his mouth. No matter how many centuries you spend together you are always still so responsive to him, you’re twitching and squirming against the tree just about to tumble over that edge when you yank his head away to pull him to his feet. His eyes are glazed over and your slick is dripping down his chin, you haul his mouth to yours tasting yourself on his tongue. All of a sudden his back is against the tree and you sink to your knees before him, tearing at belt holding up the fabric around his waist.

It seems that you’ve missed him as well.

You look up at him through batting lashes, and Azriel strokes his hand along your jaw in adoration. You take him in your mouth and Az feels like molten iron has been poured down his spine, white-hot pleasure blinding all of his senses. Death’s knees begin to buckle under Life’s ministrations, the smug look in her eyes adding to the crumbling of his resolve. He has always laid everything he is at your feet, intimacy is no different. You stroke the rest of won’t fit in your mouth in time with the bobbing of your head and he feels weightless.

Your tongue strokes along a vein on the side of his cock and he explodes almost embarrassingly quickly. It appears that four days had taken more of a toll on him than anticipated. He scoops you into his arms and in a blink you’re in your bedroom. The absurdly large bed stretches across the expanse of the room, the open windows letting in the sun. Azriel tosses you on the cool silk sheets as he stalks on top of you. His lips collide with yours again as he slowly draws one hand up your thigh and draws your underwear down, throwing it somewhere behind him. He thrusts into you in one long motion, and the searing pleasure sends a rumble of power that shakes the very foundation of the palace.

“Calm Flower,” he whispers as he hits the spot inside of you that threatens to launch you into oblivion. “You’ll bring the walls down around us.” You let out a laugh that bubbles into a moan as he continues his languid drive into you over and over. Eventually, Azriel starts to ram into you as his restraint falters like a splitting thread, toying his fingers over the apex of your thighs with musician’s grace as he bites at your neck. He flips you over at lightning speed, your ass in the air as he drives your further into the mattress, your moans muffling into the pillows as your try to keep up with the relentless tempo. You finally tip over the edge right before Az spills himself inside you, your combined release makes him let out a roar so loud the birds flee from their nests in the trees.

He watches himself spill out of you, thrusting it back inside with two of his fingers.

You whine in overstimulation as he crooks his fingers inside of you, he lets out an amused huff as he gently strokes your shaking thighs. Azriel waves a hand, and you hear the water in the bathtub start to run. You stroke a gentle path through his night-dark hair as he leans into your touch.

Yes, spring may be coming soon. The time with your husband dwindles to sparse moments in a dying winter fire, but as Az scoops you into his arms to take you to the bath you enjoy every single moment you have left.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf fanfiction #acotar imagine #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel au #acotar fanfiction #acosf #azriel spymaster #azriel smut

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chthonic-sorcery · 3 months ago

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PSA for new Pagans❗️🚩🚩🚩

(Overlooked pagan holidays)

Paganism isn't a singular religion,

it is an umbrella term for thousands of different pre-christian polytheistic faiths that span Antiquity. Heathenry (Norse polytheism) Mesopotamian, Phonecian, Hellenic Polytheism, Kemeticism/Netjerism, Slavic Polytheism, Celtic, Roman, Basque, etc. It goes on and on. Sometimes, these religions are even combined or synchronized, like Greco-Egyptian polytheism.

So, no, not all pagans celebrate Yule, or Beltane, or whatever.

Yule itself seems to be more of a Wiccan (new age) revival than a continued tradition.

There are quite literally thousands of holidays and traditions celebrated that no one talks about because people, especially newer converts, seem to believe paganism is its own singular religion.

So, here are some of my favorite holidays I celebrate that aren't usually talked about:

The Anthesteria:

A 3 day drunken celebration in honor of Dionysus and the Dead. Houses would be decorated with spring flowers, ghosts swept from the home; feasting and drinking no matter your status, and offerings given to the Dead and the Furies so that may not harm you, as they were said to roam the earth at this time.

Tar/pitch was also spread onto doorframes and black hellebore was hung to protect the home.

It was held each year from the 11th to the 13th of the month of Anthesterion, around the time of the first full moon of the year.

The Haloea:

The closest Greek equivalent of "Yule" celebrating the winter solstice and which honored Demeter, the goddess of agriculture, crops, fertility, and harvest.

During the festival, people would celebrate by preparing a rich meal with dough cakes in the shape of genitalia, telling lusty jokes and swearing with vulgarity, singing, drinking, and dancing.

The festival took place in Athens and ended in Eleusis during the month of Poseideon, which is December.

The Dionysia:

where plays originated! Comedy, tragedy, and drama.

The Festival of Dionysus, otherwise known as the “Greater Dionysia” took place in the spring (around our March) when playwrights would compete to entertain Athenian citizens,

complete with parades of giant phalluses and sacrifices of bulls!

The Feat of Sekhmet:

an annual festival at the beginning of the year, which began around August for the Egyptians following Wep Ronpet, or the New Year.

The festival was a time of drunkeness with red beer and wine, where Egyptians would dance, play music.

The goal was to imitate the drunkenness that had once stopped the goddess Sekhmet from destroying humanity.

According to Egyptian mythology, Sekhmet became so bloodthirsty from humanity betraying her father Ra, that she nearly destroyed all humans on Earth. The other deities asked Ra to stop her, and he eventually pacified her by making her believe the wine or beer was blood and she drank herself to sleep, turning into either Hathor or Bastet.

the Aphrodisia:

The festival of Aphrodite! The festival occurred during the month of Hekatombaion, which modern scholars recognize as starting from the third week in July to the third week of August.

the first ritual of the festival would be to purify the temple with the blood from a dove, the sacred bird of Aphrodite. Afterwards, worshipers would carry sacred images of the goddess, as well as Peitho, in a procession to be washed.

During the festival it was not permitted to make bloody sacrifices, since the altar could not be polluted with the blood of the sacrifice victims, which were usually white male goats.

This of course excludes the blood of the sacred dove, made at the beginning of the ritual to purify the altar. In addition to live male goats, worshipers would offer fire, flowers, and incense.

This was even celebrated in Thebes, Egypt, where Aphrodite had a large cult following.

Wep Ronpet:

Wep Ronpet is the Kemetic New Year.

It falls usually somewhere btwn late July and mid-August. The date for Wep Ronpet varies each year, as it is marked by the rising of Sopdet, modernly known as Sirius. Wep Ronpet is in fact one day long.

However, there are 5 days of excitement leading up to Wep Ronpet that we typically call the Epagomenal Days, or the Intercalary Days.

The Epag. days came about from a myth where Nut got pregnant with 5 kids. Ra got upset about this and forbade her from giving birth on any day of the year. Thoth, being the tricky guy that he is played a game of Senet with the moon, and upon winning this game of Senet, he received a small portion of the moon which he used to create an extra 5 days which she can use to birth her five children.

Traditionally, these days are said to be a little weird because they are ‘outside of the norm’. Usually great care was taken not to take too many risks.

So, each day is dedicated to the god that was born on that particular day. The order that it goes in is:

Osiris

Heru-wer (Horus the Elder)

Set

Aset

Nebhet (Nephthys)

Normally, celebrations of Wep Ronpet include prayers to Sekhmet against the 7 arrow or plagues of the year: libations and offerings to the Netjeru, song, dance, feast.

Ritual bathing for purification is sometimes done afterwards.

Personally, I like to perform execration, banishing all the illness, negativity and harm from the previous and coming year.

#ancient history #hellenic pagan #paganism #paganblr #psa #polytheism #Greco egyptian polytheism #ancient greece #pagan community #dionysus #aphrodite #sekhmet #new year #hellenic polytheism #hellenic deities #hellenic polythiest #helpol

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ultralightpoe · 8 months ago

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Anti-hero - Roy Kent

Authors Note : Based off a request I got {Could you do a Jamie or Roy fic with a girl who feels self conscious as their date to a gala or something? Lots of fluff and comfort! If you don’t want to write it, no worries 💜} A quick reminder that you are all beautiful and truly wonderful. You all deserve the world, and I hope you all find your own Roy Kent. -Ultralightpoe

Word Count: 3,997

Warnings: self doubt. curse words

Requests: OPEN

Main Master list - - Midnights Event List

(Thank you for the gif @50shadesofpemberlypost )

x Enjoy x

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons

When my depression works the graveyard shift

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

It had been an issue for years, one that was directly caused by your mother.

It’s not that she was a villain, and it wasn’t like she knew she was doing it anyways, it was always something that just managed to slip out of her mouth in passing moments . A quick ‘that shows your back fat’ there and a ‘are you sure you like that color? It washes you out baby’. Always said with that tone that made you rethink every decision in life.

She did it out of love.

But the comments she made built up, that and the pressure of school and social media building up. It all took a toll on you. You found your life mixed with new issues. Anxiety, self-doubt, depression, and you became a new person.

It was like a shadow version of you, one that tracked how much she ate and thought about how loud she laughed and how much was too much talking. Every single move you made was tracked and overthought.

But then Roy came into the picture.

At first you did what you usually did, you tried to speak low and not draw too much attention. Tracking how much you laughed and how much you ate. It was fine because your friend group never really realized it, they didn’t know a thing was out of place. But Roy, who had been brought by his sister, was quick to call it out.

“Fucking stop that.” He muttered when you tried to fix your skirt, using his hand to slap yours away. “You look fucking perfect. Take a breath, yeah?”

“I just…. I’m debating the color, everyone else wore pastels and I hadn’t realized that it would be that type of party.” You admit, body hot with embarrassment as a group of girls pass you at the party. But that was the least of your worries, you had eaten too much cake and had tripped on the stairs in front of your friends. Could everyone see your makeup on your neck? Were they laughing at you-

“Do you overthink everything?” Roy blurts, catching your elbow to pull you back gently as a waiter with a heavy tray passes by. “Because I’ll tell you right now that you’re the prettiest fucking woman at this party.”

“You can’t say that at someone’s birthday party.” You laugh, stepping closer to him without realizing. “That’s one of the biggest rules. It’s like saying someone is prettier than Aphrodite. Next thing you know that person will be cursed to marry your father because the goddess hates you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s…. Greek mythology. I’m not going to marry my dad. It… okay. I’ve ruined this so I am just going to-” You move away quicker than he can follow and you think that it was over. But you had not known just how determined Roy Kent was.

Soon enough he was taking you out, one date became 4 which led to a relationship. 10 months in and you were the happiest you had ever been. He saw you, in every outfit and every mood and every way, and he loved you just as you were.

But there was something you didn’t expect, the amount of attention that would come with dating a professional football player. It was a whole new demon in itself.

I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

(For the last time)

Lunches with your mother were the worst, and yet you loved her more than anything. Today she chose an extremely fancy restaurant dressed in a Valentino outfit and her makeup to perfection as she cut her salad up with her fork and knife.

“Oh this is dreadful.” She sighs, shaking her head. “There is barely any chicken in here. This is insane. Do you see chicken?”

“There is chicken.” Roy shrugs, narrowing his eyes a bit. Lunches with them were always such a weird dynamic considering they were exact opposites. Your mother looked for drama, she thrived off of arguing. Roy chose brutal honesty, he worked best on shutting arguments down before they could even start. “It’s right there.”

“Oh, baby that is a terrible color on you.” She huffs, sitting the plate back down and turning her glare on you as her hand raises to call the server over. “It washes you out. What have I told you about-”

“She looks fucking stunning today.” Roy scoffs, blinking slowly.

“It’s fine.” You whisper to him, trying to defuse the situation.

“No, it’s not.”

“Now I read somewhere that there is a big fundraiser gala coming up, it was in the paper. I assume you both will be attending.” Your mother begins, smiling when the server starts heading over. “You should let me dress you darling. I know how you get anxious about that all and I want to make sure you look your best.”

“She’ll look bloody fantastic in anything-”

“Oh you finally decided to serve your table.” Your mother interrupts him, talking to the server and completely disregarding your boyfriend.

He takes a moment to lean over to you, catching your eyes. “I’m about to stab my fork into my fucking eye.”

“I know.” You smile, leaning in closer to kiss his cheek which makes him growl a bit at the pda but you see the smile he fights off anyways. “We’ll be gone soon.”

“You look great and the dress you pick will be fantastic. Don’t listen to her.” He gruffs out.

“Have you seen those posts of you two? They were commenting on your age difference and I just want you to know that I do not think you are too immature for him. Truthfully honey I am proud, I never thought you’d make it with someone so accomplished. I mean it’s not like you had many prospects.” She laughs as the server sends Roy a wide eyed look while taking her plate away leaving the table once more.

“That’s it.” Roy snaps, slamming his silverware down on the table and pointing his finger at her. “You watch how you speak to her. She’s perfect. And she will be a bombshell at the gala.”

Your mothers face flushes, blinking at him slowly as Roy goes back to his meal like nothing happened while you fight off a smile, your foot rubbing his calf under the table in a silent thank you before you try to pull it back only for his legs to slam shut keeping your foot held there.

He sends you a sharp look, but the corner of his mouth curves up and you know that was his way of showing his love so you take it, smiling right back at him.

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

The dress you chose for the gala was perfect, you were excited to wear it and truthfully you were excited about the whole thing. This would be the first event you had ever attended with the Richmond team in the public eye, and you wanted to make a good impression.

But your mothers words from the years rang through your head constantly as you waited for their practice to end, leaning against the wall in the hallway as you thought about everything.

“Oh! Hello.” A angelic voice rings out, pulling your attention to Rebecca Welton coming down the hallway, making you stand up quickly.

“Ms. Welton! Hi, hello, hey…. I’m saying hi in too many ways.” You blush, moving to shake her hand. “It’s great to see you again.”

“I was just about to say the same thing. Are you waiting for the boys?”

“I am, yeah. My car is in the shop so I need a ride.”

“Oh lovely, will I be seeing you at the gala? I have been planning it for weeks, my ex husband used to plan it. The wanker.”

“I’ll be there. I just hope I dress well enough.” You laugh slightly, but her eyebrow raises and you panic slightly. Did everyone on this team just see right through all your shit?

“You’ll look perfect. I wish I still had a figure like yours.”

“ANGEL!” Someone calls out before you are lifted into the arms of Danny Rojas, kissing the side of your face as he swings you around.

“Alright. Set her down, will ya?” Roy snaps, coming around the corner and rubbing his knee as Danny sets you down quickly, kissing your cheek one more time before heading away. You lean forward and rub Roy’s knee right where you know he feels the most pain.

“Is it hurting a lot?” You mumble, as he pulls your hand away. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No, I just don’t want to moan in the middle of this hallway. Let’s go home?” Before you can even answer he is grabbing your bag and moving to take you to the car.

Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

And I'm a monster on the hill

Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Pierced through the heart, but never killed

Roy was in a shit mood the day of the gala, slamming cupboard after cupboard. You knew he was irritated about having to dress up and see the reporters that used to write about him all the time, and you knew in moments like this it was best to let him work through it. But sometimes you just couldn’t stay away.

Shuffling closer, in his shirt, you wrap your arms around his center and shove your face into his back. He huffs out as he keeps swiping the sponge against the counter, but he doesn’t push you away so you take a chance and kiss between his shoulder blades. “It’s going to be okay. What they say about you doesn’t matter.”

He sighs out, letting go of the sponge before turning around in your arms and wrapping his own around you, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You were young and they were assholes for that…. So fuck them.”

“Fuck them.” He repeats.

“You’re going to walk by them in your fine ass suit with your fine ass body-”

“Please don’t objectify me.” He mumbles, but a smile is already on his lips as he leans down to kiss you deeply before pulling back. “And I will have the brightest fucking gem with me tonight.”

“Oh, c’mon.” You blush, trying to pull back but his arms are tight around you.

“I think we need to fuck.” He huffs kisses at your face again.

“Don’t be so crass!” You laugh, trying to escape him and shuffling you both to the bedroom right as your phone rings. “It’s my mother.”

“No. Don’t answer.”

“I have to, or she’s gonna be mad.” You answer back, watching his face turn dead serious as he looks at you. His hands come up to rub at your jaw.

“You listen to me you little rat.” He mumbles, you fighting back a laugh at the nickname. “Don’t listen to a word she says, because you are beautiful.”

“I won’t. I promise.” You promise, kissing his lips deeply and losing yourself to the kiss for a moment before he pulls back and shuffles to continue cleaning the counter. You swipe your thumb across the screen and mumble out a “Hello mother.”

“Oh you’re there! I thought you were about to ignore my call.” She snaps through the phone.

Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism

Like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

And life will lose all its meaning

(For the last time)

You broke your promise, and you let your mother get the best of you.

Her words from earlier bounce around your mind as you get ready. You debate whether or not your hair looked healthy as you spray hairspray across it. Did it look greasy? Untamed? Could they see your split ends?

Was your nail polish the wrong color? Was there a patch of hair on your legs that you missed? Did the dress color wash you out? Did you look too heavy? Was it too late to cancel?

“You look…. “ Roy blinks, coming up behind you to help zip the dress. “Fuck.”

“Is that good?” You ask, biting at your lip as he leans to kiss the nape of your neck.

“Good? You look bloody amazing.” He snaps, kissing your neck one more time before standing straight. “Now let’s go make money.”

“What are we fundraising for? I never looked into it?”

“I have no fucking clue.”

“Right.” You laugh, turning with your hand in his as he kisses your knuckles softly. “Then let’s go make money for whatever needs money.”

“Make a fortune.”

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

Your lip was worn down from the amount you had been biting it.

Walking up to the gala you saw a red carpet with dozens of flashing cameras and begin to panic as you get closer, your hand tightening in Roys as he stands straighter. You would not be able to handle the cameras and see your picture all over the internet. What would people say? They would trash you, oh how bad would it be?

But Roy, ever the perfect man, simply held your hand tight and walked across the red carpet with a confidence that made your skin hot. He muttered to each that called his name, his voice deep and uncaring. “No. No. Fuck you. Fuck off. Fuck no.”

A smile blooming across your face as you let him lead you into the building where everyone is walking about with drinks in their hand.

“I’m going to go get us drinks. Your usual?” He asks, waiting for your nod before heading in the direction of the bar leaving you standing there to take a look around.

You took your chance to look around at everyone around you, smiling at anyone you make eye contact with. The anxieties began rising, as every gorgeous female passed you in their perfect dresses. Was your dress cheap looking? Did you look pathetic?

You were caught up in your thoughts as Jamie approached with his date, a model that introduces herself with a hug that makes you sniff caramel, leaving you with a crater in your chest as you look at her perfection. Jamie talks about the gala, looking around at everyone as a flash makes you blink, all three of you turning to the person that just took your picture.

“The actual fuck?” Jamie scoffs, staring at him. “We were having a conversation, ye?”

“Sorry.” The man nods, moving to walk off and bumping into Nate with another apology. “Didn’t see you.”

“Hi Nate.” You smile, trying to seem calm when he walks up. “You look great.”

“Thank you! Mr. Lasso actually bought me this suit.”

“Who?” You blink, trying to see who he had been talking about. It wasn’t meant to be a snappy or snide comment, you had yet to be introduced to the new coach and the name didn’t ring a bell at first. But the second you saw the man with the mustache owning the crowd not far off you knew who Nate was talking about.

But when you turn back to Nate you see a glare set on his features, his cheeks a little red as he blatantly looks away from you. “You look great, Jamie. You as well Keeley.”

Then he walks off, bumping into you harshly as he passes which makes the blonde look at you with wide eyes as Jamie excuses himself for another drink.

“Oh, that was extremely rude of me. I shouldn’t have asked about the coach- that was-”

“What are you talking about?” She blinks, looking extremely confused. “You didn’t do anything wrong?”

“Here you are.” Roy grunts, handing you the chilled glass. “Keeley.”

“Hello Roy.” She smiles before Jamie whistles to pull her over.

“Did he just call her like she was a dog?” You ask Roy as she walks over, and he shrugs.

“He’s a wanker. Always has been and always will be.” Roy grunts out, rolling his eyes. “He doesn’t ever pass the ball. And he is a massive tool. You should hear some of the things he says to-” He begins to explain as you try to smooth out your dress before his hand shoots out to stop you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Your answer was too quick, his eyes narrow and he catches it.

“What happened?”

“I just…. I think I upset Nate because I asked to Lasso was and I didn’t mean to and everyone here looks amazing. But I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

“Did that little fuck say something?”

“No. It’s fine Roy. Everything is fine.” You smile, leaning forward to kiss his lips which he allows before moving back and holding his hand knowing he doesn’t like pda. “Let’s go find our seats?”

I have this dream my daughter in-law kills me for the money

She thinks I left them in the will

The family gathers 'round and reads it and then someone screams out

"She's laughing up at us from hell"

“Hello Roy, you handsome devil you.” A southern voice rings out, walking up to where you and Roy were seated together. “And what pairs so well with a handsome devil? An angel.”

“The devil is technically… well historically the devil is an angel.” You blush, immediately feeling stupid as the fun fact slips from your lips. “Well, I mean- I’m sorry that was stupid.”

“Stupid? Absolutely not. I feel ashamed that I didn’t know it.” He laughs, leaning to shake your hand. “My name is Ted, all my friends call me Ted which means you must.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you. Roy was telling me about all the new techniques at your practices.” You smile, making your boyfriend shake his head.

“I said nothing good.” Roy huffs.

“He said everything good.” You smile which makes Ted smile back.

“You both look fantastic. Have a drink on me, since it’s an open bar.” Ted jokes, moving to walk away as Roy places his hand on your lower back.

“Why the fuck would you tell him that I said good things?” He huffs and your stomach drops.

“I’m sorry. It was just teasing and you do always say great things about him so-”

“Take it easy. You are fine.” He shakes his head. “Are you okay?”

You hadn’t noticed but your fists had clenched and your nails were digging into your skin, his own fingers were quick to make you release the hold and rub his thumb over the crescent marks left on your skin before bringing your hand up to kiss your palm.

“I thought you hated pda.” You whisper, leaning so your foreheads were pressed together as he pretended to roll his eyes.

“Fuck it. I have a gorgeous date and I deserve to kiss her in public.”

“Are you sure? It’s a big move for you.”

“Have you seen yourself? Prettier than the goddess aphrodite.” He smiles and your eyes widen.

“How. Dare. You! What have you done? I’m going to have to marry my dad now. Roy, how could you have done this to me?” You laugh, shaking your head. “I also cannot believe you remember that from almost a year ago.”

“Of course I remember.” He blinks. “That was the first conversation I had with the love of my life. Who would forget that?”

“Oh knock it off.” You mumble, shaking your head.

“Knock it off? Knock what off?” He snaps. “Do you realize how fucking lucky I was that day? The day you looked at me? My life was made. The second best day of my life.”

“Second?”

“Second. My niece’s birth is the first.”

“I’m fucking honored.” You laugh, smiling from ear to ear.

“Did you just cuss?”

“I did. I’m sorry. My mother would kill me.” You blush.

“Can I be honest with you for a second?”

“When are you not?”

“Fuck your mother.” He blurts, which makes your eyes widen. “I hate her. I think she is miserable and you are far fucking prettier than aphrodite and you don’t have to worry about the goddess making you marry your dad because I will be marrying you. No goddess or god could keep me from you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You’re stuck with me. And I need you to stop being to fucking mean to yourself. You hear me?” He asks seriously. “Because that’s the love of my life you are talking about.”

“I can try.”

“Good. Now lets get another round and wait this fucking gala out. Then lets go get actual food because I know you skipped lunch.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You smile before a flash blinds you once more, making you both whirl to the man with the camera.

“You fucker-” Roy begins to stand as he dashes off.

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, everybody agrees, everybody agrees

You both end up at a late night potato stand, sitting on one of their benches as you both laugh at the memory of the auction that had taken place.

“A fucking grandma bid on me. You know how embarrassing that was?”

“Hey! I bid on you too!” You laugh, body shaking from laughing so hard. “And Keeley!”

“Keeley was pissing that little wanker off.” He huffs, rubbing your thigh gently as you keep his blazer wrapped around you. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

“Thank you for bringing me. I am sorry I upset Nate-”

“Stop saying sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He mumbles, leaning to dig his spoon into your baked potato and take a big mouthful of it. “Fuck. That is good.”

“You say that about anything I get! You always do this!” You laugh, pretending to pull the potato away.

“You always choose better!”

It's me, hi (hi), I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)

At tea (tea) time (time), everybody agrees (everybody agrees)

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

“Fuck!” You wake up to the sound of Roy yelling from the kitchen, rushing to wrap yourself in the sheet left on the bed from last night as your feet pad across the floor to find where he is at.

You find him sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, glaring at his laptop, until he sees you coming out of the bedroom in just a sheet.

“Fuck.” Unlike his last curse this one is said with a lusty tone, setting the coffee down as you come closer to the couch and move to sit by him.

“What’s got you so mad, handsome?”

“They posted a picture of me and they said I’m retired. What fucks.”

“Is it a bad idea? To be retired?” You ask, moving to straddle him before he can pull an attitude. “You would have more time with me. More time to hang out and cuddle and sleep and…. You can finish the rest.”

“.....Fuck.”

#roy kent #roy kent imagine #roy kent angst #roy kent fluff #roy kent smut #roy kent x reader #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso apple tv #ted lasso angst #ted lasso smut #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso fic #ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso fluff #roy kent ted lasso

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thatsthat24 · 1 year ago

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Sanderstober 2023

Upon request, I’ve provided new art prompts for this year’s month of October!! As always, feel free to do all or some of these, pick and choose whichever stands out to you! If you missed a day’s prompt but still wanted to do art for it, absolutely do that and post it whenever you want, no worries whatsoever. It’s all completely laid back and just for fun! I’ve added to this list without consulting old ones, so if I used a repeat idea, it’s possible that I just was interested in seeing more of it again this year!! Hope you all enjoy! If you’re wanting me to check them out at all, you can use the tag, #Sanderstober2023 🎃

Oct. 1st: Give me a spooky or Halloween-y figure and how he looks on Sep. 30th (their off-time, go as comical as you’d like) and then how they look Oct. 1st (traditionally how they are known to look!).

Oct. 2nd: Give me a flower design inspired by a type of candy of your choice!

Oct. 3rd: In celebration of the awesomeness that is Fionna and Cake, I’d love to see you take a character, or characters from your fave series, and give them a multiverse makeover (what they’d look like in a different universe, under different circumstances)

Oct. 4th: Take any historic landmark, and give it an autumn or Halloween-y makeover

Oct. 5th: Since I’ve been on my D&D kick with Roleslaying with Roman, what would any Halloween- or spooky-themed character be in a D&D world? What would be their race? Their class? Their backstory??

Oct. 6th: Google a Random Color Generator and use it to give you three colors. Then use those three colors to create a new Halloween creature or character.

Oct. 7th: Along the lines of Spiderman Noir, take any character you want from some sort of fiction, and depict how they might look like in any other time period!

Oct. 8th: In the spirit of having fun with both Halloween AND Christmas, take a Halloween story/character and draw what they might appear as if they were actually a character talked or sung about in a Christmas story.

Oct. 9th: Take a group of characters from one of your favorite pieces of content and create tarot cards featuring them. Google tarot cards to get inspiration if you need!

Oct. 10th: Take a musical (one that I would suppose wouldn’t already be scary) and create a poster for it as if it were the title of a scary movie

Oct. 11th: Google a Disney character generator, pick out two characters, and create what a mash-up of those two characters would look like!

Oct.12th: Pumpkin spice latte obviously has its spotlight during the fall, but could you come up with another special coffee concoction for another season/holiday of the year?

Oct. 13th: Take a Fall/Halloween concept or character and use it as inspiration for a fashionable outfit

Oct. 14th: As a tribute to Barbenheimer this year, take any character from Barbie or Oppenheimer and depict how they’d appear in the other movie

Oct. 15th: Take the last text you received. Use all or part of it to base a whole movie off of it of any genre, and create a poster for it

Oct. 16th: Take one of the names of your current pet, old pet, or friend’s pet, and use that name as the inspiration for a superhero. What would that superhero look like?

Oct. 17th: Is there a phrase that one of your parents or friend says all the time? Take it and imagine it’s the name of a children’s book. What would that children’s book cover look like?

Oct. 18th: Take a Disney villain, and depict them as a Disney princess

Oct. 19th: Take a Disney Princess and depict them as a Disney villain!

Oct. 20th: Take any Greek god and imagine what their preferred activity might be on an average Fall day.

Oct. 21st: Take a board game (one that I would suppose wouldn’t be scary) and create a poster for it as if it were the title of a scary movie

Oct. 22nd: This is an annual favorite of mine - take take any character(s) from a piece of content of your choice and depict them like a Tim Burton character

Oct. 23rd: Take a famous brand logo (Toyota, Playstation, Campbell’s Soup, Facebook, literally any logo from anything) and design a Pokemon inspired by the logo and color palette! Bonus for naming it and giving it stats!

Oct. 24th: In the spirit AGAIN of having fun with both Halloween AND Christmas, now take a Christmas story/character and draw what they might appear as if they were actually a character talked or sung about in a Halloween story.

Oct. 25th: Another favorite of mine: take any character(s) from a piece of animated content you enjoy, and draw them in the style of another piece of animated content!

Oct. 26th: Go to the latest playlist you were listening to, put it on shuffle, and see what song it plays. Take the title of that song and use it as inspiration for a Halloween/Autumn themed drawing of your choice.

Oct. 27th: Take a favorite pair of characters from a piece of content you enjoy and depict what their matching Halloween costumes would be!

Oct. 28th: [Random event from this past year] … and Zombies!!

Oct. 29th: Every town’s got some local businesses with interesting names (Jerry’s Tire Barn Emporium, stuff like that). If you know of one in your local town, take that name, and imagine it to be the name of a Haunted House. Depict what that location may look like. I wanna learn about some funny local business names.

Oct. 30th: Take one item from your desk/workspace, anything you want. This item is now the inpiration of a brand NEW cryptid (like Sasquatch, Loch Ness, El Chupacabra, just some legendary creature we have yet to find hard evidence of). Depict what this cryptid would be!

Oct. 31st: And, of course, in typical fashion for the big day, give me any character(s) of your choice, from any piece of content, enjoying Halloween in whatever way seems appropriate to them!!

Hope you all have a WONDERFUL October! And hope you enjoy these different art ideas! Looking forward to anything it may bring about!

#Sanderstober2023 Prompts #Sanderstober2023

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shadowsndaisies · 2 months ago

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hangman meets 'thena

wc: 1.7k

synopsis: word is, there's a new pilot on board carrier air wing nine, and she flies for the VFA-14, the Tophatters.

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: the highly requested hangman and athena meet blurb, let me know what else you'd like to see from this universe, especially things that exist outside the storyline. or even if you just want more of certain characters. This serves as a precursory understanding to Jake and Athena, it probably doesn't answer every question about them, but it might help you see their foundation a bit better. but special shoutout to @djs8891 @tgmreader @rory-cakes and @fanreader75 for asking specifically about hangman and athenas dynamic (mentions at the end as well)

You’d heard of him, everyone active had. The only active aviator with a confirmed kill, never mind that your dad had two.

Hangman was exactly what you expected if you were honest.

Phoenix, who had taken an instant liking to you as soon as you’d been reassigned to the Tophatters, had filled you in on all the Lemoore gossip. Phoenix flew with the VFA-41, the Black Aces, also based out of Lemoore, and in fact, on the same carrier as you, Commander, Carrier Air Wing Nine. Her first order of business was getting you caught up on the carrier, that included learning the players, and while she was happy to introduce you to different Naval officers, the only one she warned against was Hangman.

Someone really should have told her that at your core, you were your father’s daughter.

Let it be known, you did not go looking for him. He appeared in all his Ken Doll Aviator glory as you were doing a morning check on your F/A 18E. Apparently he also flew an F/A 18E, ‘Nix on the other hand had an F/A 18F, as she normally flew with a WSO.

He approached, full of cocky attitude, and maybe it was all the years being raised by both Ice and Mav, but when he spoke it was like you could understand him just as fluently as you did with them. You could see where Nat was coming from with “honestly, Athena, Hangman in two words? Texan Douchewad.”

“Well, Howdy, darlin’, scuttlebutt was that there was a new girl on board, glad to meet you, name’s Hangman,” was his introduction.

You couldn’t help the smirk when he said girl, “Isn’t the hallmark of a proper southern boy, that he’s, well, proper?” you shoot back, eye brow quirked. “I’m a woman, not a girl.”

It was fun, watching the way his smirk melted, how his brow furrowed, as he tried to catch up.

“You-”

“Phoenix gave me a run down, but to be honest, I’ve always preferred forming my own perceptions,” you shrug, as you continue your check.

As you brush past him, you aren’t surprised to hear him following after you. “Ah, so my reputation precedes me then?” he muses, and you can see the way he uses his charm and humor to cover, a shield of bravado, too bad he didn’t realize you were raised by bravado.

“Not exactly, though I did see your plaque at Top Gun, to be fair, I saw Phoenix’s too,” you shrug again.

“So you’re the fresh blood, huh?” he prompts, and finally you turn and smile at him.

“I guess fresh blood is better than being called new girl. Name’s Athena, you’d do well to use it,” you tell him, smile in place.

“Athena? As in th4e Greek goddess of war and wisdom?” he asks, brows furrowed down.

“That’s the one,” you nod, moving to check the landing gear.

“Athena as in, the Naval Aviator who climbed through the ranks and had two separate stations before she went to Top Gun?” he follows up and you turn.

You turn to face Hangman, and now your brows are pulled, “How’d you know that?”

“I keep tabs on things that pique my interest,” he shrugs, and your lip curls on the end. “Rumor was you had Admirals arguing over who got you under their command…”

“Nice to meet you Hangman,” you decide finally, climbing back from under the plane, and offering him your hand.

“Pleasure’s mine, Miss Athena,” he smirks back. “It true your old man flew too?” he tacks the question on as he shakes your hand.

You can see it in his eyes, nepotism, you know it’s where is brain’s gone. It’s like you couldn’t escape it, everyone assumed that’s how you got as far as you have, as quick as you have. They were wrong.

“Yeah, mostly f-14s though, nothing with the juice of my baby,” you straight up lie, so what if your dad was still flying? So what if he was probably flying f/a-18s or something experimental? No one but you needed the specifics, and you’re pretty sure it wouldn’t help you fight against the nepo-baby claims. Too bad no one realized how much of a detriment being attached to Maverick actually was. It made most of the higher ups uneasy about taking you on, unsure if you’d inherited your father’s need for speed and reckless streak, you had, but you were just better than him at keeping it in check, if Ice taught you anything, it was that — “ice cold, kiddo, no mistakes.”

“Must’ve been nice, having a leg up like that,” he’s still smiling as he talks down at you.

You match his smile and catch the flicker of confusion in his eyes as you walk up closer to him. “It was, see, it prepared me for a lifetime of dealing with cocky naval aviators and their inflated sense of bubble wrap bravado.”

“That all?” he presses, staring down at you, the two of you now face to face, staring hard at each other, but you caught the little twitch of his eye at your term.

“No,” you smirk before turning and walking away, “but I’ve got a hop to prep for, see you around Hangman.”

…

He finds you in the Mess later that day. You’d just returned from morning drills with your squad, and was eating with Phoenix.

“Ladies,” he greets, setting his own tray down in the seat opposite you.

“And I’ve officially lost my appetite,” Phoenix decided, standing up. “Athena, I’ll catch you later, I’d say it’s nice to see you, Bagman, but we know better,” she states, grabbing her tray, patting your shoulder and walking away.

“You sure know how to clear a room, Hangman,” you note, eyes flicking to Phoenix over Hangman’s shoulder, Nat was clearing her tray and pauses to look back and roll her eyes dramatically as she looks at Hangman’s back.

Your lip twitches and you lift your glass of water to cover up the smile threatening to split your lips.

“Bubble wrap bravado,” Hangman repeats back to you, echoing your statement from yesterday.

“What about it?” you challenge.

“Explain it to me,” it’s not a question, not in how it’s phrased, but you understand that he is asking.

“Protective to an extent, easier to pop than you think, so long as you apply the pressure properly. Problem is, everyone knows when it does, it’s usually a bit loud,” you explain, and he seems so incredibly focused on you.

You didn’t mind the hyper-focus though, you’d coined the term a long time ago. It had originally been for a different boy, one with a temper, but who you’d watched grow up. Ice had thought it an apt descriptor, he’d even taken it to describe a few officer’s he’d interacted with over the years.

“Hmm,” he hums, eyes glued to yours.

“You disagree?” you ask.

“No. I think you hit it on the head,” he admits and your lips curl up just the slightest bit, at least he seemed honest… cock sure and stubborn too, but honest.

“A naval aviator for a father was a lot of things, Hangman,” you admit, hesitating for a moment, deciding how much you wanted to say. “It was limited time, and firm goodbyes. It was getting behind a yoke for the first time when I was 12. It was learning ranks at the same time I was learning how to do multiplication,” you say, and you study how his expression changed which each revelation. “Having a Naval Aviator for a father might have given me a home field advantage, but that’s all it did. The rest, the wings, the assignments, I earned those,” you tell him seriously.

“Sure you did,” he nods along condescendingly, but his eyes betray his curiosity, and for now, that was enough for you.

You smile again at him, though this time it is a bit sour. “You don’t believe me, that’s fine, fair even, to be skeptical. But you should know, you’re gonna eat crow when you realize how wrong you were,” you tell him seriously, before standing up with your plate and glass, and walking away.

…

You get your chance to prove him wrong just a few days later when the Tophatters get assigned to a drill with both of the other squadrons on board the carrier, the Black Aces, and the Vigilantes. Meaning both Nat and Jake are in the air with you.

After is the first time Jake looks at you with something other than cocky contempt. As if seeing you fly up close resolved some of his concerns, but there’s still something there. He was waiting for the other shoe, too bad no one told him that you’d had both feet firmly on the ground since you signed your life to the Unites States Naval Services.

You get paired with him about a month and a half later for a cover assignment for an emergency evac of a SEAL team.

Normally assignments were set within squads, but it was an emergency evac and the carrier was docked. You and Jake had been the closest to the carrier at the time who were qualified, and so you were the two who were sent off. You flew south into South America, and while a lot of the details were later labeled as redacted, Jake never questioned your ability after. Nor should he. You saved his life.

He did however decide that meant you were friends, much to the immense annoyance of one Natasha Trace.

Considering the entire mission had been classified and redacted, you weren’t able to explain a lot of it to her, but when Jake started choosing his words a little more carefully she did her best not to start anything either. When he started sitting with you in the mess, she eyed him carefully. And when he started following you around in any downtime that lined up, she kept her mouth shut.

She found a new case study in the two of you, the outward and obvious differences between Hangman with Athena, and Hangman without. Her eyes jumping from how easily you let your guard down with him, and how utterly soft Hangman could be when he thought no one was paying attention.

Natasha, to her credit, had tried, desperately tried, to get more information out of you regarding your budding friendship, but all you would ever offer was a simple, “people tend to be more complex than what meets the eye, ‘Nix, I’m proof of that. So is he, and so are you.”

She decided then and there, you had way too much tact and patience, and maybe, just maybe, that was what Hangman needed.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes @geeksareunique @je6291 @whoismurphyslaw @kee-0-kee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @thespillingvoid @youdontknowe @burningcoffeecupp @mrsevans90

...

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indiagiftsonline · 1 year ago

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Indulge in Sweet Beginnings: Exploring Delectable New Year Cakes

As the clock strikes midnight, signaling the transition from one year to the next, celebrations around the world ignite in a symphony of joy and hope. Among the myriad traditions and customs that accompany New Year's festivities, the presence of delectable cakes stands out as a sweet and symbolic way to usher in the new beginnings. We delve into the delightful world of New Year cakes, exploring the significance, popular varieties, and the joy they bring to celebrations. https://shorturl.at/dgiNO

#nothing bundt cakes #cake #nothing bundt cake #bundt cake #tres leches cake #birthday cake #chinese new year cake #new year's cake #greek new years cake #new year cake #cake idea for new years #gifts #cakes

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sidthedollface2 · 7 months ago

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A Crown fit for a God (Part 4)

Part 3

Pairing: Azriel x Fem Reader

Ch Summary: A glimpse into how you stumbled upon The Autumn Court, your relationship with Eris and how you fell into Luciens bed.

And/or

Azriel’s jealousy might destroy any chances he has in getting close to you.

word count: 7.4k

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, angst, hurt/comfort, war, including injuries, fighting, no use of y/n, nicknames, magic, greek mythology, pining, jealousy, soft Az with a little temper, azriel with other women (sorry), reader with another man (get it friend ; )

A/n: this ch is heavy on the Vanssera brothers but Az does help you towards the end. I'm a daydreamer not a writer so if you see any mistakes that's how I dreamt it. Lol

It was dark when you arrived in the Autumn Court, a blazing phoenix from the sky. Your limbs felt foreign, heavy and unstable like a newborn fawn. Rustling of leaves echoed in your new ears, startling you briefly. Your skin felt unbelievably warm despite the wind chapping your flushed cheeks. This new place had a smell of sulfur and wood. Burning wood. No. Burning flesh. A cough erupted from you as you risked breathing in the air. Your lungs expand with every inhale, followed by another violent cough.

A feminine voice called out to you ‘child open your eyes.’ The darkness soon vanished as shades of orange and amber filled your vision. You sat in the middle of scorched grounds, a ring of fire surrounding you with flames too high to jump over. Your arms and legs blackened from ash and dirt. The ends of your hair burned from the impact along with the threads covering your small frame. A lovely woman stood on the other side of the ring of fire. Panic and wonder in her green eyes, you assume directed at you. She's speaking to you in a language you recognise, but unable to voice your response.

With a wave of her hand she motions you to follow her. Standing on wobbly legs, weak and malnourished from your journey, you stumble towards her. Through the high flame you emerge, unburnt and to her surprise uninjured. “Come inside child. Let's get you bathed and safe,” she insists, wrapping you in her warm words and caring eyes. She introduces herself as Marrian, The Lady of Autumn, wife to Lord Beron of the Autumn Court. You told her your name as well but she quickly decided to keep your true identity a secret and gave you an alias instead. She explains that this cabin is a refuge for her and her eldest son Eris, though his visits have become scarce. After you've bathed and your body temperature has returned to normal, neither hot nor cold, she offers you a warm meal and insists you stay the night.

Throughout the years living in the small cabin became your home. Lady Autumn treated you like the daughter she never had. She taught you how to wield your fire magic and it was through that training that you both discovered you possessed more than just fire. You were omnipotent. Unlimited power surged through your veins just as it had before you fell into these lands. She had warned you, begged you to never show your true powers.

Males of this world were ruthless, lords and kings would take and take till you were nothing but ash beneath their boots. You found out how evil lords could be when Lady Autumn returned to the cabin. Her pale skin littered with purple and blue bruises. Dried blood caked her knees and elbows. Her oldest son Eris carried her to bed, teary eyed and blood stained as well. “I promise I'll kill them all.” Eris' voice cracked as he said those words, his mothers broken body haunting him, leaving a bitter taste of his family in his mouth. He’d do anything for her, even killing his own father for her safety. It wouldn’t be easy killing his father or his brothers. The high lord had an army at his disposal and if any of his brothers suspected Eris was the reason for their fathers untimely death, he’d be killed. And by default his mother as well. “I promise I’ll help you,” you added with fire in your eyes and revenge in your blood. “ A bargain then,” he confirmed. Death was coming for them. Death was here.

Many moons ago

You had met all of Lady Autumn's sons but only one really stood out to you. At least only one you wanted to know on a deeper level. Lucien. He had a way with words that was kind yet sarcastic and witty. His humor being the reason your cheeks always tinted the deepest red. He was incredibly handsome, tall and lean and to your surprise so much warmer than the other brothers. It was warm out when Mirrian requested for her carriage to be well equipped for her outing to the farmlands, where she’d try her way to ease the stressed farmers. This brought you to the outer stables, where the horses were being prepped for their journey. Immediately you took sight of Lucien, a worried look on his brow as he paced back and forth, biting his lips raw. “Lucien? Is everything alright?” you questioned, concern in your tone as you approached him.

Lucien immediately straightened, “Oh it’s nothing to worry yourself over, just…..I promised a friend one of Mist’s foals and it seems neither will make it.” Mist was the mare to Eris' Stallion, Blue. They had bred them as both were of a champion line, hoping to strengthen the lineage. Just as you were going to reply a young stable boy rushed towards Lucien, breathless with how quick he was running, “She’s passed Lord, the foal too I’m afraid.” Lucien sighed as he looked to the ground, a look of sadness on his face. “Perhaps I could help?” Both Lucien and the young boy looked at you with bewilderment. “Don’t be silly, the boys are more than strong enough to dig-”

“I don’t mean to bury them, Lucien.” You looked to the boy then, “take me to them please.” The young boy looked to Lucien for approval and with a nod you both followed. Lucien trailed behind you, letting his eyes admire you without your knowledge. At one point his step fell in sync with yours. His arms swung with each step, often grazing his hand with yours. Each touch earns a flush to your cheeks paired with a shy smile. Lucien takes notice and in an act of courage takes your small hand within his, lacing your fingers together.

The stable is set up in rows, where each stall is supplied with straw bedding for comfort, fresh clean water and auto feeders. Lucien placed his hand at the small of your back, gently guiding you to Mists’ stall. Her and the foal were laying still among the straw bedding, their eyes closed like if they were just sleeping. Kneeling beside Mist, you began to pet her silky golden mane.

Since arriving in Autumn you hadn’t used this particular power, its presence slowly dissipating. You often wondered if you still had it. You gave her a gentle kiss along her muzzle, the first step to bringing her back. Lucien and the boy stared in awe, not quite sure what to make of your actions. You then brought your hands to cup over your nose and mouth, breathing into them the air from your lungs. The same air that you hope would work its way into Mist. With your breath trapped between your palms you began pumping your palms together like the thump thump of a beating heart. For each 3 pumps you’d rub your hands together, creating a spark of blue dazzling light.

Lucien gasped as he witnessed the light orb grow bigger and bigger until it was the size of Mists heart. He wondered what words you spoke into the orb as it grew and grew, he’d have many questions for you after this. Questions he’s not sure he was ready to hear. Once the ancient words were spoken into the orb you held it gently in your hands, its glow reflecting off your galaxy eye.

Lucien took notice that throughout this whole experience both your eyes had changed to the colors of the night sky, shades of blue and violet mixed with sparkling starlight. Perhaps your pale eye had other uses as well. With one hand you carried the orb towards Mists’ chest, right where her heart lay still. And the other hovering over her head. You looked to Lucien and the young boy, “no sudden movements, and please cover your ears.”

Lucien's brows furrowed in question, but he did as you requested. So did the boy.

Once you saw that their ears were covered you spoke the following words and hoped that your primordial power was still alive.

“I am Khaos, creator of the abyss and all that the sun touches. Death has taken your hand but I hold onto the other, for your journey has not ended. Hold onto me like the night holds the moon, and I’ll light your way.”

The orb held in your hand suddenly let out a flash of light so bright it could illuminate up the night sky. The light flickered after that intune to the rhythm of a beating heart. Lucien's eyes almost fell from their sockets as he saw what looked like electrical current coming from your fingertips, sending a signal to Mists head, to her brain. Lucien hesitantly looked away from your magical hands and his gaze landed on your beautiful face. Your brows were furrowed in deep concentration, sweat began to trail along your hairline. Your eyes remained open, the galaxy within them orbiting like the earth revolves around the sun. He could tell something was amiss because your jaw was clenched tight and the force you were using to push the light inside her heart was visible in the tremble of your arms.

Dark heavy clouds had covered the blue sky, bringing a violent wind to blow across the Court. Its roar slammed into the high trees and rattled everything in its wake. You had tried with all your might to push the light orb into the horse's chest to revive her heart, but Death was fighting back. You were fighting back. A battle between life and death when you possessed the power of both. Your Life power was taking the backseat as Death became the forefront. Suppress. You needed to suppress that deathly power. A deafening clap of thunder boomed through the stable; blanketing your scream that ripped from your throat as you forcefully shoved the glowing ball of light into Mists’ chest.

Lucien cradled your weak body as you collapsed from the energy you had expelled. “Mother above!” the boy gasped, “she did it Lord. Her chest rises.” Lucien stared at Mist’s chest as she inhaled and exhaled. “Listen to me boy,” Lucien spoke sternly, “you will not speak of what you saw here or I’ll turn you to ash. Do you understand?”

��Yes, I understand. Not a word.”

“I’ll reward you for your silence, now go.” Lucien tilted his head towards the wide doors, signaling for the boy to leave.

His gaze traveled back to you, pulling your body closer as if you’d suddenly disappear. He studied the features of your beautiful face in awe. With a feather light touch he traced over your eyebrow, down the apple of your soft cheek, and over the cute slope of your nose. His thumb gently pulled at your bottom lip, and he wondered how soft your lips would feel against his. It had been easy to fall for you, your heart too pure and kind. Tending to his mothers wounds and encouraging Eris to be better. A better male compared to Beron and his cruel brothers.

Lucien leaned in, his breath fanning over your lips, inching closer. The tickle of his breathing caressed your eyes open, taking in the handsome man holding you, his warm hand cradling the side of your face. “You're incredible,” he whispered, nothing but wonder in the way he was looking at you. Your lips parted in a wide smile as you bathed in his praise. He was the most beautiful male in all of Autumn, and you wanted him, needed him in ways that made you blush. Lucien noted your longing and decided now more than ever that he wanted you too. Without another thought he crashed his lips to yours, groaning into your mouth as you swiped your tongue along his bottom lip. He kissed with the hunger of a thousand wolves, nipping and grabbing at exposed flesh. He wouldn't have you in the stable, where anyone could watch. “I need you now sweetheart,” he growled, as he lifted your body in his arms, whisking you away to his bed chambers in a smoke cloud of orange and gold. It was true what you had heard.

The males of Autumn did have fire in their blood, at least Lucien did. When you told him you had never laid in another males bed before, he slowed down his hunger to devour you. He took things slow at first, stretching you open with his fingers as he peppered kisses and lapped at your clit till you were a withering mess beneath him. When he finally sheathed himself inside you, his length stretching you deliciously- Lucien knew this wouldn't be a one time thing, couldn't be.

What was once friendly chatter and shy glances quickly turned into a romantic whirlwind of horse rides and stolen kisses. Giggles under his sheets as he blew raspberries on your soft stomach. ‘I love you’ whispered in heavy breaths every time he felt you flutter around his cock. Lucien was adamant in keeping the relationship a secret, afraid of what his brothers or Beron would subject you to if they knew. It didn't matter in the long run, all it took was one dinner for the fairytale to come crumbling down.

~~~~~~~

You were allowed in the forest house as Lady Autumn’s ‘Lady in waiting.’ your role was to accompany her wherever she went, and assist her in daily activities. She had introduced you as “Khaos” which quickly turned to “Aos” over time. An orphan to a High Lord from across the continent she claimed. It was all lies.

This role gave you the chance to map out all entries and exits of the forest house, familiarize yourself with all the guards and what times their rotation were to occur and even where Lord Berons bed chambers were. You noted his schedule from early morning till late evenings. Eyes aware of his house guests and sometimes the topic of conversations. No other guest shocked you as much as when the entire Autumn line found themselves seated next to the King of Hybern. You sat between Eris and Lady Autumn, a rare occurrence to be invited to sit with the family. Lucien decided to sit across from you, to not strain his neck while he admired your beauty in comfort, his other brothers followed suit. At the head of the table, Lord Beron and the King of Hybern sat at opposite ends, showcasing their importance and power even at dinner.

Beef ragout and cheese souffle were passed around in the finest flatware. The flame from the candlesticks placed in the center of the table gave off a warm light, casting Lucien in a God-like glow. For a moment you imagined it was just the two of you, enjoying a night out for the world to see. “Try the grey stuff” Eris spoke from your left, spooning into the pudding like substance. Surely he wouldn't attempt to feed…

Lucien's eyes widened slightly as Eris brought the spoon to your lips. There were too many eyes for him or you to make a scene, so instead he looked away as you parted your lips for the delicious treat. It was an honest mistake humming around the spoon as the flavor melted in your mouth, a sweet sound noticed by Eris as he gently thumbed at the corner of your mouth. Wiping away the frosting that was never there to begin with. Lucien had been looking down and didn’t notice the intent behind the action but apparently Lord Beron did.

“Seems like you’ve caught my son's eye, little one. I wouldn't object to a courtship.” Your gaze quickly went to Lucien, had they known of your relationship? Was that why you were invited to dinner, to finally let the secret be known? You were about to respond when Beron addressed his son, “Eris do you find this female attractive enough to bed?”

“Father!” It was Lucien who interrupted, “surely this conversation isn't appropriate for the dinner table?” Lucien attempted to steer away from the current conversation, anger slowly bubbling to the surface. You remained planted in your seat as everything unfolded before you. Being a female in Autumn where even if you voiced your choice in Lucien, you had no right to even speak on the matter. The females were to marry, obey their male partner and breed an army of children if her husband wished. Since the High Lord mentioned it, then his word was law. You’d be tortured if you went against his wishes, Lucien would be beaten for even suggesting the lack of appropriateness of the conversation. Your gaze landed on Lady Autumn, a silent plea for help in your eyes. She merely smiled, squeezing your hand in comfort. You realize there was nothing she could do, as her makeup barely covered a fading bruise beneath her eye. It wasn’t that Eris had been terrible to you, quite the opposite. He just wasn’t the male you had fallen in love with.

“I do find her desirable, and I would be honored to court her.” Eris’s amber eyes met yours, a look that meant he was sorry for the circumstance the both of you were in. “A toast then,” the King of Hybern stood, “ to the happy couple.” He cheered, raising his glass in the air before he threw his head back, downing the flute of wine.

The High Lord followed as well as Eris and his brothers, leaving you, Lady Autumn and Lucien to stare at each other in trepidation. Lucien was going to be sick, his skin had paled at the thought of you producing an heir for his brother. Eris hands all over your soft skin, how dare he desire what belonged to him. Lucien's jaw was clenched so tight he was going to crack a molar. Unable to voice his anger or pull you away to keep you safe, he stood, shooting daggers dipped in faebane at everyone but you. You stared at your lover as he drank from the flute in one fluid motion.

Blinking back the tears as he threw his head back. His eyes met yours once again, red rimmed pools of honey ready to overflow from heartbreak. You were unable to mask the pain you were in as easily as Lucien. It occurred to you that perhaps he meant more to you than you did to him. With a heavy heart you brought your flute up to your lips, and a lonely tear tracked down your cheek. You didn’t want this life. You didn’t want to be a Death God. You didn’t want to marry Eris. You didn’t want other people making decisions for you. You didn’t want to be forced. Yet you agreed, there was no other way.

“Tears of happiness no doubt,” Eris cooed, gently wiping at the tears that followed after the first. Lucien had never looked at his brother with such raging hatred as he did now. Eris wrapped his arm around your waist, settling his hand on your hip as he tugged you close enough to kiss your temple. His gaze trained on Lucien for a hint of a reaction. Lucien swore he saw Eris smirk.

You didn’t stay long enough for dessert, opting to be alone with your thoughts. Walking aimlessly through the halls of the forest house, you didn't attempt to wipe your tears. There was no point in hiding how hurt you were, no reason to put on a brave face. You passed through a stone archway that led to a balcony, overlooking the canopy of trees that fill the forest floor. Autumn was beautiful, but not as beautiful as the stars that littered the night sky. The stars didn’t shine as bright in Autumn, they looked dull and sparse. Not at all what they looked like from home. You missed home, the space beyond the stars.

Hushed whispers floated to your ears and you quickly hid behind the stone railing that curved the space of the balcony. “- we were able to modify vegetables and fruit with faebane. The results were successful in potency and effectiveness. We can use these samples in farmlands for mass production, and give high doses of faebane through modes of consumption without the individual's knowledge.” You could recognize Lord Berons voice even though he whispered. “Once we remove the Night Court's High Lord the rest will fall.”

You attempted to peek over the railing, needing to know who he was speaking to, who else you needed to kill. “You’ll become High King of Prythian and keep your title as King of Hybern.” It couldn't be, you felt panic rising up your throat. The King of Hybern and Lord Beron in an alliance? You needed to tell Eris. Your bargain to assist Eris in killing Autumn's High Lord just became more difficult.

Quickly trekking back through the halls you found yourself in front of Eris bed chambers. You knocked softly at his door, hoping he’d still be awake at this time of night. Shuffling on the other side. you heard him near. Opening the door with a soft click, “what do I owe the pleasure?” he purred as he stared down at you. His chest was completely exposed, toned with a light dusting of freckles, similar to Lucien. Your eyes traced down his carved abs, noticing his narrow hips and how dangerously low his night pants hung. You averted your eyes, focusing on the slight curve of his mouth instead. “I have something to tell you..In private, please.” You don’t know why you were suddenly nervous in front of the princeling. “Is everything alright?” he asked with softness in his tone as his back pressed against the door frame, leaving just enough space for you to squeeze by. Still facing the future Heir you walked over the threshold, your chest grazing his warm body as you slid into his room. Eris' head thumped against the frame, ‘control yourself’ he thought, as the brush of your breasts along his chest had left him breathless.

Explaining in full detail what you heard between The King and Lord Beron took longer than anticipated. Eris took every bit of information and wrote down possible outcomes and strategies to counter the mass production of faebane. On top of killing his father another player had entered the game and now Eris' work to bring down his father had doubled to now needing to bring The King of Hybern down as well.

Eris didn’t know how long he stayed hovered over his desk, but when he finally turned towards his bed and noticed your sleeping form, dawn was fast approaching. He didn’t have the heart to wake you, opting to cover your body with his warm sheets. He had no problem sleeping on the couch, respecting you enough to not join you in bed. He’d fallen asleep at the sound of your soft breathing, the sweetest lullaby to grace his ears.

It had been mid day when you both greeted the high sun, bashful in the position you were in. You apologized profusely for falling asleep in the Heirs bed. But he simply waved you off, “nonsense Fawn, what kind of male would I be to rush you off in the middle of the night?” Your cheeks flushed at the pet name as Eris opened the door to his bedroom, letting you pass by easily. You turned to thank him, missing the male that stepped back into the corner of the hall, hiding himself from view. But it was Eris who spoke first, “thank You, for last night. I’d like to see you again.. soon. to talk about,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m really sorry about all this,” he gestured at the air around him. “It's not your fault. We’ll figure it out,” you said through a sigh.

Eris wondered if you would ever forgive him for the way things were turning out, he didn’t want to force your hand. Hadn’t even thought about it, but as he pulled you in and wrapped his arms around you in a warm embrace, and inhaling the scent of your hair he was right where he wanted to be. Even though nothing intimate transpired that night, Lucien's imagination planted a rotten seed as he witnessed you leaving Eris bedroom. Eris' hold on you lasted too long to be a friendly hug and the flush on his brother's bare chest told a different story. Lucien decided then that he no longer wanted to be in Autumn, he’d branch out to other courts, and take you with him. But first he needed to speak with Eris.

Present

The rays of the morning sun cracked through the window, and once again you found your side of the bed empty. Loneliness has been a better lover to you than the future Heir. Before you had left to seek out the other Dead Gods; Eris only visited the cottage to see his mother and make love to you.

You hoped things would be different once you returned, but he hardly stayed the night and he was usually gone by morning. You’d never admit his absence made you feel used, causing more pain than you wanted.

After Lucien you vowed to never care for another male again. Never give your heart out willingly. From your experience everything they touched seemed to break, crumble, and wither. They hurt the women they claimed to love and protect, only for them to be beaten and assaulted. Traded to the Highest Lord in exchange for an alliance or merely because the female had the hips and cunt to breed powerful heirs, and that wouldn't happen to you. You wouldn't be touched with careless hands when you so beautifully crafted the very soil they walked on and the fresh air they breathed.

After your morning shower you find yourself searching the cupboards for your contraceptive tea. Placed high above the eyeline, away from Eris and Marrian. You had taken the tea without Eris’ knowledge. He wanted you to carry his child; it would be under your terms and only when you wanted. The decision to bear children would be out of love and with someone whom you formed a relationship organically, not like it had been with Eris.

You found no tea in the cottage. Not even healing salves for your wounded wing from your attack days ago, another injury unnoticed by Eris. You didn’t have the necessary ingredients for either so you traveled through the forest searching for the particular herbs. You could have gone to a healer for your wounds but not for the tea. Loyal to the court, merchants would talk and the last thing you needed was Lord Beron finding out and throwing you in a cell for insubordination. Contraception was hard to come by in Autumn, another rule placed by controlling males.

You were in deep concentration, biting at your fingernails trying to think of the last ingredient for the tea. When a sneaky shadow wrapped itself around your waist, squeezing you tightly just as one would for a hug. You stumbled back at the force in which the shadow had rushed to you. But you were met with a hard muscular surface and gentle hands that held onto your hips for stability. You then felt the cool caress of Azriel's breath across your neck, “You haven't healed your wing yet, any reason why?” He asked. Still in his hold, you quickly turned to face him, a little shocked to see him still in The Autumn Court so close to your cottage. “What are you doing here? How did you find me? Oh my Gods you're going to get killed.” You fire off question after question, glancing behind him and all around in a frenzy of panic and caution. Azriel follows your hurried gaze from left to right, amused in your nervousness.

“Answer my question first and I'll answer yours, deal?” Azriel suggests with a smirk.

“Ughh, fine. Not here though, come on.”

Azriel stifles a laugh as you pull him by the hand, a large overgrown bat following a pretty girl like a lost puppy. You lead him to a giant hollowed out tree trunk, the inside large enough for you both to sit without being seen. Azriel sits on a thick twisted root that's sprouted from the ground, his knees touching yours as you sit opposite of him.

“So what are you doing here?” You begin.

Azriel chuckles, “nope, you answer me first.”

You sigh and roll your eyes, “I’ve forgotten how to heal,” you mumble softly. Azriel scratches at his temple, brows furrowed in clear confusion, “I'm sorry, did you say you've forgotten how to heal?”

“Yes, I have forgotten how to heal, now answer my questions.” you crossed your arms over your chest, adamant in knowing what the hell Azriel was doing in your neck of the woods.

“But how did you forget? People forget names and faces, not how to use their power, “ he prods, striking an exposed nerve that puts you on edge.

“ You know what, forget it. I’m in a hurry, I don't have time to play games with you. I already told-”

“Alight, alright. I’m sorry. Will you at least let me help you?”

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicious of his intentions. “Why?”

This was going to be harder than Azriel thought, “I just….I’d like to repay the favor to someone who did a good thing.”

You scoff with a shake of your head. He was unbelievable, but you allowed him to help. It would be a stretch to reach your wing let alone change the bandage. You handed Azriel your satchel with all the supplies you had gathered. He took each item out and laid them out, recognizing each leaf and its purpose.

Azriel immediately notices the list of ingredients scribbled on a note paper in your bag. At the top of the list are the three herbs needed for the contraceptive tea. His eyes widen as they shoot to your pretty face and down to your womb. Nightshade, only found in The Night Court was missing from your bag. One of the many herbs imported to the other courts for distribution. You wouldn't find it in Autumn’s forest.

His jealousy flared slightly as he couldn't imagine another male touching you, seeing your naked figure bare for someone else. He shouldn't be jealous, you don't belong to him, but every ounce of his body is screaming for your attention. Any ounce of affection you're willing to give, Azriel would gladly accept.

Azriel doesn't notice when you remove your top. Keeping your breasts covered with your arms wrapped around your chest, you nestle between his spread legs, wings displayed beautifully like angels from the heavens. His breath hitches as your backside grazes against his crotch, the close proximity doing nothing to settle his nerves. Your skin looks soft and delicate, he almost doesn't want to taint you with his scarred hands.

But the urge to touch you overpowers his negative thoughts and he takes the first steps in removing your bandage. He’s about to caress your wing when he suddenly remembers the sensitivity of his own, “Illyrian wings are very sensitive in this area, I’m about to remove the bandage, I just want to make sure you're comfortable.” You peek over your shoulder giving him a shy smile at his thoughtfulness, “they’re sensitive too, based on the type of touch and pressure. But it’s the only way.” He nods in understanding, and the first glide of his fingers against your skin startles you. “Sorry,” he winces, quickly removing his hands. “It’s Ok, I just wasn't expecting..” You weren't expecting his tortured hands to carry such a tender touch. You couldn’t tell him that, not sure what he would think, “you can continue, please.”

Azriel resumes his attempt at removing the bandage, gently pulling back the adhesive holding against your skin. It was a sick kind of torture having this handsome male care for you in a way that no one ever has, his careful touch is delicate and soft despite his rough exterior. Each brush against your skin felt like a sweet kiss between lovers, healing not only your skin but the broken pieces of your soul. You let yourself relax under his touch, memorize the feel of careful hands nurturing you. Making you whole not only physically but mentally. In your blissful state a soft moan slips past your lips when his fingers glide over the space between your wings. Azriel smiles at the sound, wishing to be the reason for every sinful noise out of your mouth.

Azriel fills the silence in hopes to hush any more sweet sounds that may arouse him.“To answer your question, my shadows seem to be very fond of you. And they’ve been able to track you easily. I’m not really sure why or how but they pick up on your scent, and I just… from the last time we…” Azriels cheeks flush as he remembers your last encounter, “Why aren't you happy?” He’d thought about your previous conversation and how you mentioned you weren’t happy. The admission plagued his mind, wondering what weighed so heavy on your heart that happiness was no longer on the table. And the way you said it so casually made it seem you haven't been happy for a long long time.

You’re about to dismiss his question, your life is none of his business but something in the way he's touching you allows you to be vulnerable.

“I’m unhappy because I’ve lost my way home. Each time I die and resurrect, I come back forgetting a piece of myself, powers I once had are temporarily gone, or I don’t recognize the people around me. I’m just trying to find my way back, but I can’t seem to remember. Nothing is keeping me here but my mission to bring Death to this realm, and the many bargains Ive made in search of home. I have no family to keep me here. No worthy lovers. I feel stuck in a place that only sees me as a tool for their personal gain, And I’m tired of the confinement.”

Your voice wobbles, as you explain the depth of your pain. He knows too well the feeling of not belonging, the loneliness weighing heavy on one's shoulders. Your memory loss after each death explains his earlier question; the reason you don’t remember him and the reason you couldn't heal yourself.

He can’t see your face, but he notices your hand coming up to wipe away your fallen tears. Selfishly he doesn't want you to part from his world. His feelings for you are already so strong, he couldn't bear a life knowing you weren't in it. The Mother was cruel in her ways, he had just found you after 500 yrs only to reach you on your way out. But he’d choose your happiness over his every time.

He listens intently as you reminisce about your home. How large the moon looks from your humble throne, its proximity so close you can fly to its surface. The brilliant stars that shine brighter year after year, their vibrancy thawing the coldest of hearts. Sapphire and violet swirls of the milky way, a visual so stunning it leaves you breathless. A longing sigh passes between your lips, shoulders deflate slightly. “I’m sorry for unloading all that on you,” you shake your head, info dumping was never your intention. “Can you tell me what your home is like? I really liked the stars in The Night Court. It’s one of the reasons I stayed longer than I should have.”

“You don’t ever have to apologize for how you feel,” he says, as he continues to apply the healing salve, its cooling properties taming the angry laceration. “The Night Court is very similar to how you describe your home.” A slight blush travels up his neck, “I’d like to show you where I live, See how you like it there. I think you’d find it more home like than any other Court,” Azriel flusters as he mumbles the words out.

“I’m not sure how that would work out. I seem to have angered your High Lord.” You lift a shoulder in a shrug, “but thank you for the offer.” Azriel hadn’t thought how Rhys would behave if he knew you were a guest in the very city you threatened. How the Inner Circle would perceive you. What kind of High Lord would that make him if he did allow you to visit Velaris. Rhys head wasn’t shoved that far up his ass, was it?

“Will you allow me to help you find happiness then?”

His question has you shocked. He feels it in the way your wings have straightened and slightly flared. No one has bothered to ask if you were happy, let alone help you seek said happiness, certainly not someone you barely knew. Something about this male was different. Special, even. In a world where death and violence was in every court, usually brought on by males. This one had a thoughtful heart. Where men took from you, Azriel had given. He’d offered his services to kill for you. Offer his body to worship you. He offered his scarred masculine hands and willed them to be delicate and soft if only to heal the damaged pieces of a goddess. And now he knocked at the gates of your guarded heart willing to weather the storm in pursuit of your happiness for nothing in return. Those wrought iron gates flashed gold with every rap, Its faint pulse crashes against your heart like a violent wave, pummeling jagged rocks along the coast.

Azriel was everything you had ever wanted in a male and it scared you more than anything.

Then you remembered the words spoken by The Suriel, ‘An invisible thread that weaves and winds, binding hearts two of a kind.’

No. You wouldn’t allow your emotions to get the best of you, so you shut them down.

Azriel stilled. His deep heavy breathing suddenly the only sound that could be heard. His hands trembled in his lap. He felt it, the golden pull towards you. It was as if he was watching himself from above, gripping those iron bars so tightly his knuckles turned white, gold spreading beneath his palms coating the iron, bar by bar. But then you pushed. And he watched as your heart frosted over in stone and cold Ice, protecting itself from breaking. The iron gates doubled down, forging a firewall of blue and orange flame. He would need to jump through fire and ice to even get to you.

“There's a book, well two books I’ve been looking for. They contain the spell I need to remember my past and to go home. Book of The Minds Eye and The Book of Breathings.” It was dangerous telling Azriel, but you had exhausted every option. Bryaxis would look In Velaris Library for The Minds Eye, and if he found it he’d give it to you when you both met in the coming war and his bargain would be done. But the book of breathings was impossible to find. If he knew where to look, then it was worth telling him.

Azriel blinked back to reality confused. Did you not feel the undeniable pull? or maybe you did but you closed off, blocked it. Wait. Was that…Azriel slammed his eyes shut, willing to go back to that place, wherever it was, drag his body across glass and gravel, he didn't care. Hell he’d jump through hoops of fire if it meant you got to be his. All he saw was vast emptiness.

“Did you feel that tug?” Azriel longed for that connection, and had been looking for it his entire life. At one point he felt unworthy of such deep love. Jealousy gripped him so hard he began to resent his brothers for finding their mate. But as he saw how happy and whole they were, their joy had bounced off and with time he welcomed their delight. The Mother it seems skipped him or she didn’t deem him worthy. Perhaps it was the manner of work he was in, who would love such a soul who tortured people. Would his chosen one stomach his work and still desire to be in his presence? He had a feeling you were his chosen one, you had to be with how much he thought of you. Even after all these years searching it had to mean something in the end right? There had to be a reason he couldn't get you out of his head.

“I didn’t feel anything at all. I can tell you’ve tended to many injuries, your hands are very gentle.”

“Oh,” Azriel glanced at your fresh bandage, “your wound. Right. It's cleaned and I applied the salve and new bandage.” he couldn't help the sadness in his tone. He was wrong. Of course he was wrong, you were a Death God and what would a God want with him? You kindly asked him to turn around so you could pull your top back on, “good as new I’d say.” You shot him with a wide smile, flexing your wings, showcasing their movement despite the taut feeling of the bandage.

He nodded in agreement, “you were saying something about a book?”

Azriel caught some of the information as you retold what you were looking for, his mind weaving in and out. Thoughts between this book you were in search of and that lingering feeling deep within his chest. He was startled to hear Rhys' voice in his mind suddenly, ‘We’ve been invited to the Day Court In celebration of Helion’s Birthing Day. Wrap up your findings and report at once. With or without the girl, Mor’s returned with her findings.’

Azriel followed you out of the hollowed tree, pacing back and forth anxiously, “There's this celebration in another court. I was hoping you’d attend. With.. with me? They have multiple libraries and Helion he’s a spell cleaver, I’m sure he’d allow you to visit the-”

You cut off his rambling, a clear attempt at convincing you to the Day Court. “Are you asking me on a date shadowsinger?”

The flush across his cheeks was adorable for an illyrian his size, “ Yes!” he confirmed, “I’d be honored to have you on my arm.”

Gods you wanted to accept and forget about your duties even for a night. You’d be working for Lady Autumn, ensuring her safety in secret as well as attending to her needs. “I’ll be in attendance. But I'm afraid I’ll be on someone else’s arm.”

“Someone else? Who?” He asked, trying to calm his racing heart from its imminent break.

“Eris Vanserra.”

He should have stopped and stayed silent as his eyes darted to your bag. But his thoughts came spewing out of his mouth in anger, and once again he’d let his jealousy take over. “You’re fucking him! That's why you’re looking for contraceptive tea, I saw it in your bag.” Not a question but a statement.

“Who I fuck is none of your business!” You spat with equal rage, power surging through your veins clouding the once bright sky in gloom.

Azriel scoffs, and with a nasty bitter tone he landed a blow so low even his shadows recoiled, “how could you say you loved lucien and then fuck his brother? No wonder he left you!”

Immediate.

Regret.

Your face crumbles in pain as his words form a dagger and slice at your beating heart. As if sensing your sorrow, a roar of thunder echoed nearby, threatening to unleash its ferocity.

“Shit! I’m sorry. Please… I didn’t” Azriel inches forward. You step back, eyeing him slowly from head to toe and back up again, nothing but loathing and hurt in your cold stare. You remained silent but all Azriel heard through the agony in your beautiful face was ‘you aren't worth my time.’

“I don't expect you to understand the sacrifices one has to make when you're in love, when no one has ever loved you! And the next time you decide to disrespect me, I'll be sure to remind you how vile a Death God can be.”

You didn’t bother to look back at him as you walked away.

Part 5

A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read, I really appreciate it. :)

taglist: @blackgirlmagicforever @going-through-shit @dr4g0ngirl @mybestfriendmademe @isa1b2h3 @julesofvolterra @scooobies @thisblogisaboutabook @lilah-asteria

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel x fem!reader #azriel x y/n #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #azriel angst #azriel #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar #azriel x oc #eris vanserra #lucien vanserra

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daisynik7 · 2 years ago

Text

Rush

Epilogue

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: ~9.5k

cw: mentions of explicit sex, attempted sexual violence that may be triggering (does not go far and is not committed by Eren)

Summary: New year, new beginnings, old flames.

Notes: I hope you enjoy this Epilogue, it’s a long one! I included a word count this time, for your reference. Please read the End Notes at the bottom of the chapter for my sincerest thanks.

Previous Chapter | ao3

Rush Series Masterlist

----------

After a well-deserved holiday break, you’re back at University of Paradis to start your spring semester. Along with your new and more rigorous curriculum, your obligations to your sorority escalate. No longer a pledge and a now a fully-fledged sister, you take a more active role in your organization by trying to recruit potential members. Spring rush begins two weeks into the new year for women and men interested in Greek life. Because of the partnership with Alpha Tau, Sigma Nu Kappa miraculously sees an increase in their numbers. By the end of the month, you welcome an exciting group of new sisters, ready to dive into the mysterious allure of sorority life.

Alpha Tau, back in its good graces, continues to excel during recruitment, despite losing a few members the previous semester. Reiner was expelled shortly after Eren. Apparently he threw a hissy fit in front of Erwin and Levi, who confronted him about his disrespectful behavior. Bertolt, being the obedient devotee he is, actually quit following his best friend’s expulsion. Rumor has it they’ve been “adopted” as unofficial brothers into another frat, the one where their friends Porco and Marcel are in.

The first few months of the new year are ordinary, for the most part. The only major difference is that Eren Jaeger has become a regular part of your daily life.

Following the end of your intimate relationship with him and his expulsion from Alpha Tau, Eren quickly got his act together. He focused on his studies more, spending hours in the library next to Armin, buried in his textbooks or typing away at a paper. You didn’t see him much during those last few weeks, only in passing, walking alongside his best friend. Cordial waves from a distance were always exchanged. Even from afar, it was difficult to ignore the twinkle in his eyes or the goofy grin whenever he saw you.

It's not until this new year that Eren makes his official return into your life.

The golden trio of Eren, Armin, and Mikasa are in tandem again, hanging out constantly as if their temporary setback never occurred. You’re included in the mix now, being Mikasa’s closest friend, roommate, and sorority sister. Jean occasionally joins if he isn’t busy with soccer team business. You and Eren acknowledge one another as acquaintances do. A smile, a wave, a glance here and there. Nothing more. Careful not to overstep any boundaries. There’s no tension between you two; rather there’s remnants of a barely lit flame still present from your previous relationship. It’s unpredictable when it will ever fizzle out.

You share meals together, surrounded by your friends, never alone. You have conversations as a group, not with each other. The most you’ll say is a hello or hi, along with a lingering look. There’s an unspoken agreement there; he won’t cross any lines until you’re ready to. At this rate, you’re taking baby steps to get to that point. You want to take your time with him.

Despite keeping your metaphorical distance, you find yourself learning more each day you spend with him. His interests, his pet peeves, his little quirks that you secretly find charming. Over dinner one night, you discover that Eren has a sweet tooth, finishing two different slices of cake in one sitting without a single crumb or smattering of frosting left on his plate. Another night, Mikasa teases him about being a mama’s boy, which he shamelessly agrees with.

“She’s the most important woman in my life,” he says proudly to Mikasa. “Besides you and – ”

He cuts himself off, not finishing his statement. For a split second, his eyes quickly dart towards you, cheeks blushed with a rosy tinge. Maybe it’s your imagination.

They reminisce about their past often, having spent their entire childhoods together. Through passing comments, you learn that Eren has always cared deeply for his friends. As a child, he was the first to throw a punch whenever Armin was harassed by the neighborhood bullies. The only kid on the block who would defend Mikasa from perverted old men eyeing her on the street. Even protecting his mom from being mugged several times on simple trips to the grocery store.

You’re beginning to see for yourself what Mikasa told you last semester. I wish you could have met him before all of this. You would see how great of a person he can be. There’s a reason his friends have stuck by him through thick and thin. They’ve put their trust and faith in him because of the lengths he’s gone for them. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to get to that point with him. A tiny part of you hopes so.

You learn that Armin and Eren share a fascination for traveling. During a study session in the library, they huddle during their breaks to read a couple different travel magazines they purchased at the café. Eren takes great care to highlight and place post-it notes on pages he finds particularly interesting. A few times, he glances over at you, catching your gaze on him. The moment dissipates as quickly as it appears, a fading ember in heavy rain. Something’s there, both of you too hesitant and shy to nurture it.

In the blink of an eye, March arrives. The flower gardens scattered throughout campus are in full bloom. Displays of different colored flora along every pathway illuminate your daily walks to class. The melancholy that winter naturally emanates has finally passed. Life is good.

It’s this month that your relationship with him changes. It’s small, but definitely noticeable.

~~~

In the middle of March, the weekend preceding midterms, the four of them gather in a study room. Mikasa and Armin review biology flashcards, she’s finishing up a permitted cheat sheet for one of her courses, and Eren focuses on writing an essay for his sociology class. After typing his last thought, he closes his laptop and leans back in his chair, sighing.

Mikasa sets down her flashcards. “Let’s take a break.” She reaches into her bag and fetches a bag of chips, setting it in the middle to share.

“Speaking of a break, what is everyone doing for spring break? It’s coming up,” Armin reminds them.

“Jean invited me to stay with his family. We might go camping,” Mikasa replies.

“That sounds fun! Grandpa will probably want to go fishing, so I’ll be doing that,” Armin says. “Eren, what do the Jaegers have planned this year?”

He grabs a handful of chips as he answers, “We’ll be at the beach house. I can’t believe Mikasa will be missing my birthday just because she has a boyfriend now,” he teases her, smirking.

She rolls her eyes. “A week away from Zeke bragging about med school and taking over your dad’s practice? Oh yeah, poor me,” she responds sarcastically, returning his playful grin.

“When is your birthday?”

He’s startled to hear her voice. To hear her direct a question at him. It’s an invitation to engage in a real conversation, which flusters and thrills him.

He faces her, hoping his cheeks aren’t flushed. “March 30th.”

“Must be nice having it during spring break. I’m sure you’ll have fun.”

He gulps loudly, excited to continue talking to her. “Yeah, it is nice. What are…what are your plans?” Mikasa and Armin stare at them as if they’re watching a slow-moving tennis match, heads turning towards whoever is speaking, holding their breaths.

She shrugs, reaching for the snacks. “Probably just stay home and do some spring cleaning. My family doesn’t really go on vacations.”

There’s a rush of ideas bombarding him, the most obvious being the temptation to invite her. It’s insane. But the thought of spending spring break together is a dream. It’s been over three months since they ended their previous relationship. Over three months of secretly pining for her, waiting for whatever chance he can get to be a little bit closer.

It’s on the tip of his tongue. What’s the worst that could happen if he let it slip? Rejection? Bruised ego? Extreme embarrassment? That’s nothing compared to heartache, and he’s already experienced that. He has nothing to lose.

Still, he has to put her first. He wouldn’t want to do or say anything to make her uncomfortable. That’s why it’s taken this long for them to have a legitimate conversation with each other, outside of their usual greetings. He wasn’t sure if she wanted to speak to him, especially after all that happened.

Mikasa intervenes. “Annie doesn’t live too far from you. I’m sure you two can see each other if you’re bored.”

“Oh yeah! She mentioned wanting to try a new restaurant near where I live, so we’ll probably do that.”

Eren comes to his senses, mentally calming himself down from his sudden excitement. He can’t invite her to the beach house with him. That’s crazy. Outrageous. Definitely a bad idea. Baby steps, he reminds himself. Baby steps. “That should be fun. I hope you have a nice break.”

“Thank you. You too.”

They gaze at each other for what seems like a full minute; in reality, it’s a few seconds. There’s electricity, even if it is a slightly dulled. It could be wishful thinking on his end, but these are the tiny interactions he’s learned to cherish these past few months. He’ll take whatever he can get; a warm glance, courteous wave, her signature bright smile that instantly lifts his mood. He won’t take any of it for granted anymore.

Armin clears his throat. “Anyways, it sounds like we’re all going to have a nice vacation.”

His friends engage her in idle chit chat about Greek life, leaving Eren alone in his thoughts. Another layer in their complicated relationship has been peeled away. There’s a long way to go, but it’s progress. It gives him hope.

He treasures these moments. This, along with the little details he’s learned about her so far. What she likes, what annoys her, those adorable habits she has. They spent so much time indulging in sex last fall that they didn’t get to know each other properly. He enjoys exploring her mind and soul just as much as her body; maybe more if that’s even possible.

Their passionate nights reappear in Eren’s head every now and again. Probably more than he’ll ever admit. Out of respect, he tries his best not to think of her in that way anymore. Though when he’s alone in the deepest confines of his psyche, he can’t help letting his hands wander, wishing more than anything it’s her in bed with him. He allows himself this occasional weakness for the sake of his sanity.

Tonight, he lets himself succumb to it, more so than ever these past three months. She actually spoke to him, and she was the one to initiate it. It’s glorious, and hours later, he’s still high from it. Why is he so desperate? As Eren slides his boxers off to stroke his hard cock, body hidden beneath the blankets in case Armin returns any minute, he ignores the guilt and lets his desires overtake him.

He fantasizes about a scenario where she does spend spring break with him and his family. They would drive to the beach house, top down in a rented convertible, wind blowing through their hair. Fingers entwined, resting on the center console, natural for two people in love.

At the beach house, Eren would make proper introductions to his parents. His mom would be ecstatic to see her son with a woman, especially one as beautiful as her. Zeke, his half-brother, would arrive later for dinner, cocky as usual during table conversation. Probably flirtatious with her, attempting to push his little brother’s buttons. This wouldn’t bother Eren, because at the end of the night, it’s him who bends her over at the edge of the bed, pleasuring her until they’re both spent. Cuddling and falling asleep in each other’s arms, in total bliss.

She’d make the best impressions on his parents, helping his mom in the kitchen, offering to help his dad fix a few loose boards on the deck. Pretending to be intrigued by Zeke’s insufferable stories of med school. They’d relax by the ocean every day, basking in the pleasant heat from the sun. At night, they’d make love, indulging in each other’s warm bodies. Her silky moans music to his ears as she wraps her legs around his waist, wanting to feel him deeper. Her moans turn into whines, indicating he’s hitting that sweet spot. He thrusts into her faster, wanting her to gush all over him, thumb brushing against her puffy clit that he licked and sucked earlier when she rode his face. She’s so close, desperate to have her precious cunt filled with his hot load…

His cock twitches in his fist, cum dribbling onto his bare abdomen. He opens his eyes and he’s in his bedroom, hidden beneath his covers. There’s a box of tissues at his bedside, conveniently. He wipes any evidence and tosses it into the trash, thankful that Armin takes unusually long showers.

After a few minutes of lying in bed, he buries his face into his pillow, groaning. He hates when that post-nut clarity hits. It brings him shame, guilty for using her as a way to get himself off. He didn’t even recall a past scenario this time; he invented a new one.

He answers the question he asked himself earlier: Why is he so desperate?

He’s in love with her. That’s why.

~~~

The rest of the semester passes without any major issues. The frequency in which you converse with Eren increases at a steady rate. He cracks jokes here and there, nothing vulgar or inappropriate. The conversations are never too deep, enough to scratch the surface and uncover a valuable cache of knowledge about each other. It’s surprisingly easy talking to him; you’re building up to being more than acquaintances with an intricate past.

With finals around the corner, you find yourself once again in a study room with Mikasa, Armin, and Eren. Mikasa and Armin group in front of a whiteboard, reviewing diagrams and terminology for their biology class. Eren is writing yet another sociology research paper. And you’re in the middle of a practice test for one of your courses.

Eren closes his laptop, raising his arms up in a stretch. “Anybody want anything from the café?”

Mikasa and Armin, too focused on their discussion, wave him off. He turns to you, offering, “Do you want anything?”

Distracted by a question that you’re desperately trying to solve, you mumble a name of a drink, your usual. A few minutes later, you come up with the solution and finally relax. It’s only now that you realize you only gave him half the details of what you wanted. Thinking it’s too late to specify any of it, you let it be, not wanting to be a bother.

When he returns, he sets his drink next to his laptop. Probably a black coffee, his typical order. He hands you yours, which seems normal.

“Thank you,” you tell him. “Let me know how much I owe you.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s on me. I hope I got your drink right.”

Certain that he didn’t, by no fault of his own, you examine the sticker on the cup listing the precise details. To your surprise, it’s perfect. From the amount of ice, type of milk, even the extra pump of the particular sweetener you like.

Impressed, you exclaim, “It’s exactly how I order it! How’d you know?”

He rubs the nape of his neck, blushing. “You get it so much, I guess it stuck with me.”

You beam at him, flattered that he memorized your relatively complicated order. He thought it was important to remember. It makes you feel special. With a sip of the drink, you take a deep breath, exhaling happily. “It’s absolutely perfect. Thank you.”

Cheeks still pink, he responds, “It’s really nothing.”

There it is again. That spark. A blaze that burns just barely, enough to provide light and warmth in a dim, dark place. It’s amazing how something so simple, so seemingly insignificant, can do that. You do your best to suppress these emotions, knowing all too well that there’s a long way to go when it comes to you and Eren. That doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate the progress.

The next few hours continue, the four of you concentrated on your own studies. When the sun sets, you gather your belongings and head to the dining hall to eat.

The topic of summer vacation comes up. Mikasa is already aware of your plans, but you decide to announce it to Armin and Eren.

“I’ll be staying on-campus. I’m required to complete one summer session for my major so that I can graduate on time.”

Armin says, “Really? Eren, aren’t you doing a summer session as well?”

This is brand new information. Mikasa also seems surprised by this. “You’re going to be here for the summer too?”

Eren nods, eyes focused down at his plate. “Yeah, I talked with Pyxis this week and he suggested that I do one to get in some extra classes. Told me it’s better for my resume when I apply to law school. He was able to pull some strings and get me enrolled last minute; I just found out yesterday.”

Mikasa, who’s sitting next to you, squeezes your knee lightly underneath the table.

“I guess we’ll both be here,” you murmur, unsure how else to react.

“Yeah, I guess we will.” His expression is unreadable. For a split second, though, he smiles.

Later that night, with you and Mikasa ready for bed and snuggled under the covers, she turns to face you. “Are you going to be okay? Being here with Eren for the summer?”

“Of course. It’s not going to change anything. We’ve been okay this whole semester.”

“Yeah, but Armin and I aren’t going to be here. Do you think you’ll want to hang out with him? Alone?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. We haven’t been alone together since…well, you know. I don’t know how awkward that will be.”

“You’ll both be at Reiss. All the students doing summer sessions are housed there.”

“So? What’s your point?”

“Living together in close quarters when nobody else is around to keep the two of you dummies in check? What do you think will happen?”

Rolling your eyes, you indulge her. “Tell me.”

“You’ll fuck! The two of you will start fucking again!”

“Mikasa, that’s not going to happen. First of all, the apartments are big. It’s not like we’ll be next door neighbors. I probably won’t be seeing him much. And second, even if we do run into each other, we’ll say our usual hellos, do some small talk, and that’s it! What do you think we’ve been doing the past few months. Everything is under control.”

“Oh please. Don’t think for a second that the little flirtations you and Eren have been exchanging are going unnoticed,” she reveals.

“What? We don’t flirt!”

“Oh really?” She sits up aggressively, mimicking you from earlier. “Oh Eren, it’s perfect! How did you know?” In a second, she switches to Eren, copying his deep voice, “I don’t know baby. Just stuck with me I guess. Want to touch my abs now?”

You throw a pillow at her, unable to contain your laughter. “Shut up! That’s not what we sounded like!”

“That’s exactly how you sounded,” she teases, tossing it back to you. “It’s obvious he still has feelings for you.”

“I don’t know about that – ”

“And I know you still have feelings for him, too. Neither of you will ever admit it, but we all know.”

Shocked by her accusation, you sputter, “Huh? That’s not…how do you…”

“We’re sisters. Of course I know.”

You remain silent, neither confirming nor denying her suspicions. It wouldn’t matter anyways with how confident she sounds.

“I’m not saying you two shouldn’t reconnect. To be honest, it seems like Eren is back to his normal self, before his whole wannabe fuck boy phase. I want to make sure that you’re ready to take that next step. If that’s what you really want.”

“I don’t know what I want yet. We’re taking it slow. There’s no rush.”

“And that’s great. I don’t doubt that you’ll continue to succeed in that. But I’m sure there will come a time that you’ll be tempted to revisit those intimate moments the two of you share. If you do go through with it, do it because you want to. Not because you’re lonely, desperate, or pressured. Do it because it feels right in your heart.”

You let her advice sink in. She adds, “If you ever need someone to talk to, you know I’m always a phone call away.”

In the dim light, you can see her sincere eyes gazing at you. “Thank you,” you tell her, promising telepathically to heed her words of wisdom.

The discussion ends there, leaving it up to you to decide when the “right time” is. Or if there will ever be a “right time”.

One thing is for sure: this summer is already more interesting because of Eren Jaeger.

At the end of the semester, the seniors graduate in the standard pomp and circumstance ceremony. You exchange tearful goodbyes to your favorite graduates, promising to keep in touch. Hange makes you swear to visit her at Marley School of Medicine, while Petra promises to stop by whenever she’s in the area. The candy leis you, Mikasa, and Sasha spent the previous night crafting are distributed to all the Sigma Nu Kappa seniors, even some Alpha Tau’s, including Levi, Erwin, and of course, Mike. You give him an especially fond smooch on the cheek.

With the school year officially over, most of Paradis’s students pack up and go home. Annie and Hitch agree to stay an extra day to help you move into the on-campus apartments called Reiss Residence, open specifically for students staying for the summer. It takes at least two hours to haul your belongings across campus to your new home. Being on the second floor of the complex with an elevator that operates at a snail’s pace contributes to the difficulty. Once your stuff is inside, you unpack, dragging boxes up the stairs into one of the empty bedrooms. Downstairs is a living room space furnished with a couch and coffee table. There’s also a little kitchen, complete with all the essential appliances to cook. Unfortunately, you don’t have any pots or pans to actually prepare a meal, so you pray that your roommate moves in with those items in her possession.

Exhausted from the move and too lazy to walk over to the dining hall, you call a local pizza shop to get dinner delivered directly to your doorstep, treating your friends for helping you during this tiring process. In the middle of your meal, you hear a knock on your door.

“RA knocking! Anyone in there?” When you open it, a tall, well-built man stands in front of you with a clipboard. “Hi! I’m Onyankopon, your new RA.”

You introduce yourself, smiling as you shake hands.

“Welcome to Reiss. My room is downstairs, #101. Knock anytime you need anything. If I’m not in, feel free to call me.” He gives you a sheet of paper listing general rules and information for the complex. He points at the number typed on the bottom next to his name.

“I see you’re pretty much moved in. I just need to get you checked-in with a date and a signature.” He presents you the clipboard and a pen. You scan it quickly for your name, signing it when you find it. Not bothering to check the rest of the list, you return it to him.

“Awesome, thanks. Has your roommate moved in?”

“No, not yet.”

“That’s okay. I’ll come by tomorrow again to check. Some students are coming in tomorrow, even later this week since classes don’t start until Monday. I’m planning to have a little welcoming party in my room Sunday night to introduce everyone. I’ll post the details on the bulletin next to the laundry room on this floor.”

“Sounds great. Looking forward to it,” you tell him, genuinely excited.

“Don’t hesitate to contact me if you need anything!” With that, he waves goodbye, leaving to knock on the rest of the doors on your floor.

Back inside, Annie says, “He seems nice.”

“And hot,” Hitch smirks. “Aren’t RAs for these apartments usually grad students? You should try older men for a change,” she teases with a wink.

You roll your eyes. “I don’t think he’ll be interested in an undergrad if he really is a grad student.”

“Hey, you never know unless you try! How hot would that be, sex with the RA? This stuff doesn’t write itself.”

You laugh, half considering her suggestion because she’s not wrong: your new RA is very attractive. However, you’re still taking time to focus on yourself and avoid potential drama. If that means remaining celibate the rest of the summer, then that’s the route you’ll have to continue taking.

“Armin told me that Eren is also going to be here. Is that going to be weird for you?” Annie asks, finishing off her slice of pizza.

“I don’t know. We probably won’t see much of each other unless we literally live right next door, which isn’t going to happen.”

“Think you’ll try to hang out with him one-on-one? I mean, you practically saw each other every day the past few months.”

“That’s different; we’re always with Mikasa and Armin. There’s a buffer.”

“Do you even want to hang out with him? As friends?”

It’s definitely crossed your mind. Mikasa’s words have been replaying constantly the past couple of days. Do it because it feels right in your heart.

You haven’t seen him since the last study session, and the thought of running into him any minute now has you flustered. Is it worry? Or excitement?

“I don’t think I’m there yet,” you respond, remaining ambiguous.

Instead of continuing to pester you, they drop it, changing the subject to Eta Iota gossip going around about one of Hitch’s sisters hooking up with another’s boyfriend. You listen passively, your focus still on Eren.

Given your history, it might be dangerous to be alone together. You’d be lying to yourself if you said your intimate memories with him have never reappeared in your thoughts. They pop up in your head, particularly at night when you need some sort of sweet release.

Hanging out, without Mikasa and Armin there to regulate, is a big step. Will you ever get there with him? Can you ever be friends?

The next morning, you eat breakfast with Hitch and Annie at the cafeteria before they leave for home. Back at your apartment, you notice the door is open, boxes stacked and scattered around the living room. You hear shuffling upstairs and a girl’s voice talking to someone on speaker phone. You knock on the open door loudly to announce your presence.

A girl with light-brown hair in a ponytail comes sprinting down the stairs, smiling. “Roomie!” She launches herself towards you to give you a big hug. “I’m Hannah! Nice to meet you!”

You return her embrace and introduce yourself, making small talk while you help her move her things to her bedroom. Throughout the day, you learn that she is cheerful and easy-going. She mentions her boyfriend Franz, who she warns will be coming over quite often, to which you assure her that you don’t mind.

When she’s unpacked, the two of you walk to the store right off campus to pick up groceries and snacks. That night, you cook your first meal in the kitchen. Luckily, Hannah comes prepared with kitchenware, offering to share it as long as you clean it after use.

Friday, Hannah decides to spend the weekend with Franz once more before the session begins, leaving you alone in the apartment. You sleep in, taking advantage of the few days left of your tiny break.

Around noon, your growling stomach gets you out of bed. In your comfiest sweats, you leave your apartment. For the first time this week, you notice the door next to yours is open. Outside is a middle-aged woman with long black hair in a loose ponytail hanging over her shoulder. There are clothes scattered over the pavement surrounding her as she carries an empty laundry basket. Immediately, you bend down to pick up some of the littered fabric.

“Ah, thank you, dear. I’m such a klutz,” she giggles, squatting to help. “These are clean, don’t worry.”

You chuckle, giving her a pair of sweatpants. The two of your collect the last few items off the ground. “I hope I didn’t take too much time out of your day!” she says.

“Not at all. I was just on my way to get lunch. I’m in no rush. Happy to help.”

“I’m relieved to know my son is living next to someone as sweet as you. Thank you again for all your help.”

Her appreciation for such a simple act is endearing. She seems like such a lovely woman. You smile at her, reiterating how it wasn’t a big deal when you hear someone walk towards you from behind.

You turn to check who it is, almost choking when you recognize that it’s Eren. He blinks rapidly as he stutters your name.

Somehow, some way, the universe has forced you two to be next door neighbors.

Eren’s mom glances at him, then at you. “Oh, you two know each other? How nice! She was helping me pick up your laundry after I dropped it all on the ground.”

He steps towards his mother, grabbing the sides of the basket. “Mom, I told you I’d get that. It’s heavy,” he states, carrying it easily. He glances at you before heading back inside his apartment to set the clothes down.

His mom asks you, “So, you two are friends?”

What is the correct answer here? You’re not quite sure yourself.

Eren quickly replies, “Yes, we’re friends.” He smiles at you, then at his mom.

“Oh good! I don’t have to worry about my son being lonely this summer,” his mom teases, pinching one of his cheeks.

“Mom,” Eren warns, waving her off lovingly. It’s cute.

“Your dad should be here soon; he went to get gas after we unloaded all of your things from the car.”

“That’s nice you’re here to help Eren move. I wish I had a car when I moved. We had to lug everything from across campus,” you explain, laughing.

“Oh you poor thing. Next time, tell Eren to help you. As you can see, he has plenty of muscles,” she comments, squeezing his bicep.

“Mom, seriously,” he mutters, hand shielding his face in embarrassment.

“He’s so shy, isn’t he?” she grins. Eren peeks at you between his fingers, a blush surrounding his cheeks.

His mom’s phone chimes. “Oh! That’s your father, let’s go sweetie.”

You’re ready to part ways when you hear her suggest, “You should come to lunch with us!”

Going to lunch with your former fuck buddy’s parents? And your former fuck buddy turned acquaintance slash friend? This is too weird. “No, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense. We’re inviting you.”

Expecting him to dissuade his mother, Eren agrees. “Yeah, you should come with us. It’ll be fun.” His expression is warm and inviting. His eyes glisten with kindness. How can you decline an invite from both him and his mother?

“Oh…um, okay. Thank you,” you relent, walking besides them.

“Silly me! I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Carla,” she mentions, holding out her hand. You do the same as the three of you head downstairs. In the parking lot, you spot a maroon Subaru Hatchback running. A man with glasses sits in the driver’s seat.

“Honey, Eren’s friend here is going to join us for lunch!” Carla exclaims.

From inside the vehicle, you see him clap giddily. “Excellent! Hello Eren’s friend!”

Carla informs her husband of your name, to which he enthusiastically repeats. You grin at their quirkiness. From the corner of your eye, you see Eren smiling too.

~~~

Somehow, some way, the universe has blessed Eren.

He can’t comprehend it. He’s sitting in the back of the car next to her, the middle seat being the only distance between them, as his parents drive them to his favorite restaurant in the area. He literally pinches himself several times to believe it’s real.

His mom does most of the chatting during the ride. She asks the standard questions, most of which he’s already memorized about her. At the restaurant, which is a local diner with the best milkshakes, his dad joins in on the small talk. In typical Grisha Jaeger fashion, he brags about Zeke, who’s currently in med school to take over the family business. This naturally prompts him to pat Eren on the back and proclaim, “But I’m also proud of my other son here, who’s going to be a hot-shot lawyer one day! Hopefully he won’t ever be prosecuting me for medical malpractice!”

Aside from his dad’s corny jokes, their lunch is as delightful as Eren could imagine it to be, under their current circumstances. All week, he’s been nervous about the status of their relationship this summer, if there even would be a relationship. Without Armin and Mikasa around, how would it be between them? The question has been nagging him since he decided to stay. And now, it’s been partially answered. Still, he wonders if they’ll ever be able to spend time together, just the two of them.

Back at the apartment, they gather in front of Eren’s room.

“Thank you so much for lunch, Mr. and Mrs. Jaeger,” she says.

“Oh please, the pleasure was all ours! We hope to see you again soon!”

Eren eyes his mom, to which she announces, “Grisha, honey, let’s unpack some of Eren’s stuff in the kitchen.” Before his dad can get a word in, she drags him into the apartment, yelling out, “Sweetheart, it was so nice to finally meet you. Please take good care of yourself!” He nearly flinches at his mom’s slip-up. Thankfully, it goes unnoticed.

At last alone with her, he says, “Thank you for joining us. That was fun. I hope it wasn’t awkward for you or anything.”

“No, it wasn’t. Your parents are really nice. Thanks for letting me tag along.”

“Are you all unpacked?” he asks, eager to keep their exchange going.

“Yeah, for the most part. I don’t have too many things, so it wasn’t so bad.”

“I’m the opposite. My mom made sure I packed everything. I might have to use the spare bedroom for storage.”

Her eyes light up at this statement. “You don’t have a roommate?”

“Nope. It’s just me,” he answers. “My dad is going to help me move the other bed into my room to create a queen-sized bed.”

“That sounds nice.” There’s a small pause before she adds, “Maybe we can hang out at your place. Not on the bed, I’m not thinking that because of the bed, I thought that since you don’t have a roommate, it might be nice to, y’know, watch a movie or something, I don’t know – ”

He stops her rambling with a grin, “I get it. I wasn’t thinking anything about it. But yeah, we should definitely do that. If it’s okay with you.” Calm, cool, collective. He has to appear this way as fireworks are nearly bursting out of his chest.

She nods, not explicitly responding to his last statement. “Anyways, I’ll let you get back to unpacking. I’ll see you around.”

It’s too short. He wishes they could keep chatting forever and ever. “Yeah, see you.”

She disappears into her apartment, leaving Eren to pinch himself one more time before joining his parents inside. In a daze, he removes some pans from the open box next to his mom, who looks at him curiously.

“Honey, Eren and I are going to unpack his clothes in his room. Can you finish the rest of these boxes down here?”

“Yes, dear.”

Upstairs, Eren’s mom shuts the door and begins hanging his jackets in the closet. “So, that’s her.”

There’s no secrets between him and his mom. That’s the type of relationship they have. When he fucked up last semester, he made sure to come clean about it as soon as he was home for winter break. And she made sure to give him a piece of her mind. Since then, she hasn’t stopped.

“I can’t believe you would do that to a sweet girl like her,” she continues, casually unfolding his laundry as she scolds him. “Really, Eren. I am still so disappointed in you.”

“I know, Mom. I know. I fucked up. I beat myself up about it every day.”

“I hope you do. Did you know that she would be next door?”

“Of course not. I knew she was staying at these apartments. I never predicted this. I mean, I jokingly wished for it. I didn’t think it’d actually come true.” He can’t help but smile to himself, feeling like the luckiest guy in the world.

She glares at him. “Don’t get any ideas, son. You have to keep your distance. She might still be wary about you. I wouldn’t blame her.”

“Yeah, I know. I will. But when I told her I don’t have a roommate, she said that we should hang out. I think she’s ready to be friends.”

She stops what she’s doing to look at him carefully. “Honey, are you sure about this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t it time to move on? I know you still have feelings for her, but this is dangerous. You don’t know if she’ll ever feel the same way about you again. Maybe this ship has sailed.”

He contemplates this for a while before saying, “Maybe. But if there’s the tiniest chance, then I’m wearing a life vest and swimming. I’m not letting her go. Not yet.”

She stares at him, concerned. “You like her that much?”

With full confidence, he answers, “I’m in love with her. I love her, Mom.” This is the first he’s confessing it out loud. He’s surer of it now hearing it in his own voice.

“Eren, you’re not even dating. You barely know her. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous. I feel it in my heart, in my fucking soul. I can’t stop thinking about her. Everything I do now is for her. To prove to her how worthy of a man I can be, worthy of her love. I won’t give up until the day she looks me in the eyes and tells me that it’s never going to happen. Maybe even then, I won’t give up. I know you probably think I’m being immature or idiotic. But this is how I feel. I can’t help it.”

“Honey, I hear you, and I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings. But are you prepared to get hurt if this doesn’t work out the way you want it to?” There’s urgency in her voice, almost like she’s pleading with him to reconsider this. To give up, for his own sake.

He won’t. This is the most certain he’s ever been in his life.

“If that means I’m going to get hurt, then fine. It’ll be worth it to have felt something than nothing at all.”

~~~

Sunday night, your RA hosts a gathering in his slightly larger apartment on the first floor. Hannah isn’t back from her boyfriend’s, so you arrive alone. You meet a few of the other residents as you help yourself to a slice of pizza and a drink. Onyankopon gathers everyone in a circle to play a little ice-breaker game. Just as he’s about to start, Eren walks in.

“Sorry I’m late,” he mumbles.

“No worries, man! Go ahead and take a spot in the circle.”

You glance at him, waving, which he returns with a smile. He positions himself across from you, next to an auburn-headed guy you sort of recognize from one of the fraternities.

Onyankopon asks everyone in the circle state their name, year, major, organizations they are involved in on campus, and one interesting fact. He starts, explaining how he completed his bachelors at a school private school in Marley and is now working on his masters in aerospace engineering here at Paradis. Each resident clockwise has their turn to speak. When it gets to Eren, he shares that he has a big sweet tooth, which you already knew, and that he has finished an entire chocolate cake all by himself once in his lifetime, which you did not know.

After the event, you bid farewell to your RA and new neighbors. Outside, Eren walks slow, waiting for you. You catch up to him, greeting him with a, “Hey.”

“Hi. Are you ready for classes tomorrow? Feels like we barely had a break.”

“Not sure if I’m ever really ready for classes. Oh well,” you chuckle. “Do you have an early morning class?”

“No. Thankfully my earliest class is at 11, which isn’t bad.”

“That’s the same for me too! It’ll be nice to sleep in once in a while.”

“Yeah, definitely.” There’s a pause. “Maybe we can get breakfast some time. If you’re up for it.”

You remember him being so against sharing a meal together in public not too long ago. And now, he’s offering the idea so easily. You can’t help but tease him just a bit. “You don’t want to get it delivered?”

He stops in his tracks. “Hey, I didn’t…I wasn’t…I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking – ”

You nudge him in the arm with your elbow, laughing. “I’m messing with you. Breakfast sounds good.”

His face relaxes. “I deserve that.”

“Yeah, you do,” you smirk.

It’s different this time around. It has to be.

~~~

The session starts and Eren, for the most part, has a handle on his courses. Without it being as rigorous as a regular semester, he spends a large chunk of his free time going to the gym, cooking in his kitchen, and watching Netflix on his flat-screen TV, courtesy of Dr. Grisha Jaeger.

Though the walls are thin, he barely hears a bump from his lovely neighbor. However, knowing she’s there brings him happiness. Over the past few weeks, they’ve been getting comfortable chatting outside the apartment. Sometimes for a few minutes if either of them is in a rush to another destination, most of the time for nearly half an hour, neither in any rush to end it. He looks forward to stepping outside his apartment every day to get his daily dose of her. An instant serotonin boost.

One Friday night, well into the season, Eren sits on the couch in front of the TV, watching a K-drama he’s hooked on. He finished a bowl of pasta for dinner and is indulging in ice cream when he hears a knock on his door.

He cracks it open cautiously. To his delight, it’s her. “Hi neighbor. Can I hang out here for a bit?”

It takes a while to process. Is he dreaming? He pulls himself together and opens the door for her, inviting her in. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just that my roommate and her boyfriend are having a heated argument right now and I’m almost certain it’s going to lead to some very loud and angry sex. I don’t want to be there to listen to it.” She plops down on the couch. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Not at all. I was just watching TV. Do you want some ice cream?”

“Sure!”

He rummages through his freezer, retrieving a particular carton of ice cream. As he scoops it into a bowl, she comments, “I didn’t expect you to be a fan of K-dramas.” She’s looking at the paused screen on the television, an amused expression on her face.

He passes her the bowl and takes a seat on the opposite side of the couch, an appropriate distance for two ex-lovers to be in. “I recently got into it. I can see why people are so obsessed with them. Especially the romance ones.”

She takes a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “Yum. This is my favorite. Thank you.”

There’s no point in revealing to her that he knows this already. She mentioned it once during spring semester. He wanted to try it himself, see why she adored it so much. Now, he always keeps a pint of it in his freezer. Not because he expects situations like this, but because he indulges in it himself to have the tiniest connection with her. It also helps that it is, in fact, yummy.

“So I’m guessing that you don’t get along with your roommate?” he asks, finishing the last bites of his melting ice cream.

“We get along fine. I just didn’t expect her and her boyfriend to be so loud. Especially during sex. It’s very distracting.”

“When you’re caught up in the heat of the moment, it’s easy to forget about everything and everybody else surrounding you,” he says. In the worst timing ever, he recalls their passionate nights, never holding back with each other.

She turns to look at him, a gleam in her eyes that sends his heart racing. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Is he imagining all of this? This pleasant vibe in the air?

He hastily grabs the remote and resumes the show, ending any more talk about sex. They finish the episode and watch one more before she deems it safe to return to her place.

“Thanks again for letting me come over. And for the ice cream.”

“Of course. I’m here anytime you need me.” The words slip out sooner than he can actually think it through. He panics, fearing he took a monumental step backwards.

Instead, she responds, “Okay. I’ll hold you to that.” Eren watches her leave and waits for the soft thud of her door shutting to close his.

Cheeks hot, perspiration beading on his forehead, he slides down the door and sits on the floor, burying his face in his sweaty palms.

His mom is right. This is dangerous.

~~~

The summer session is nearing the end. It goes by much faster than you expect. This is largely thanks to your next-door neighbor slash friend slash ex-lover Eren Jaeger. For a situation so complicated and messy, it’s been easy being with him, as friends.

It’s gotten to a point where you’re at his apartment nearly every weekend, usually watching a random show or movie. He’ll offer you whatever meal he can whip up in the kitchen on the fly; other nights you’ll order delivery or take-out from a local restaurant. And every dinner ends with three scoops of your favorite ice cream.

On some weekdays, you’ll wake up early to get breakfast together at the dining hall. You’ve since unblocked his number from your phone, so either he’ll text you, “Breakfast?” or you’ll knock on his door, knowing he’s already awake.

Not wanting to make the same mistakes as last year, you tell your friends everything, to which you get plenty of opinions about from them. Annie in particular isn’t shy to call you dumb for falling for the same trap again. In your defense, it doesn’t feel stressful this time around. What do either you or Eren gain from spending time together, besides companionship? Without sex being involved, could the two of you truly become friends? At this rate, you’re confident that you can.

The Friday leading into finals, you leave the library close to 1 AM. You got caught up finishing a paper for one of your classes, not realizing how late it is. The walk to your apartment isn’t far. However, being alone in the after-midnight darkness adds a level of creepiness that unsettles you. You slide your keys between your knuckles as a makeshift weapon and stroll directly under each lamp post for a sense of security.

When you arrive at the apartment complex, there’s a figure slouched at the bottom of the staircase leading up to your floor. You recognize him as one of the residents of the apartments. As you pass him on the steps, he grabs your ankle.

“Hey, can you help me?” His speech is slurred; he’s drunk.

Alarmed at his unwanted touch, you tug your foot away from him, muttering, “Sorry. No.” You hustle up the stairs, hoping he stays slumped there.

You hear shuffling as he cries out, “Come on! I locked myself out! Public Safety is taking forever. Let me stay in your apartment for a bit.”

He’s on your tail. Nervous for him to see which apartment you’re living in, you stop in front of the laundry room, reaching for the phone in your pocket. “I said no. I don’t know you.”

“I’m Floch. I’ve seen you around. You’re a Sigma Nu Kappa. I bet you’re an easy fuck.” He grabs you by the wrist aggressively, causing you to drop your phone onto the ground.

“Let go of me asshole!” On instinct, you kick him between the legs, directly in the balls.

He grunts, doubling over, clutching his hopefully shattered jewels. “You fucking bitch,” he spits out through gritted teeth.

Quickly, you retrieve your fallen phone and sprint to your room, desperate to hide from him. Shaking, you can’t get your keys into the lock. From your peripheral, you see him get back up slowly, limping towards you, holding onto his crotch like some perverted zombie. You continuously press the lock button on your phone, attempting to trigger the SOS signal as he closes the distance.

Suddenly, the next door swings open and Eren hovers over Floch, growling, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Your assailant shrinks, waving his hands in front of him in a pathetic surrender. “Whoa…Nothing man, I wasn’t doing anything.”

“You owe her an apology.”

“Huh? She’s the one who kicked my nuts – ’

“Did I fucking stutter? Apologize to her. Right fucking now, dipshit.”

“Okay, okay.” He peeks around Eren’s massive form to apologize. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t speak, staring at them in a catatonic state.

Eren steps forward, towering over him. “Now get the fuck away from her and wait outside your own goddamn apartment. And if you bother her again, I won’t be so nice.”

Without another word, Floch hobbles off, heading upstairs to the third level.

Eren looks at you, expression switching immediately from outrage to concern. “Are you okay?”

You’re still trembling as you nod. “Yeah. I’m…I’m okay.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No. I kicked him in the balls before he could do anything.” You turn the handle to open the door, which you finally manage to get unlocked. “Thank you. That was…crazy.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I heard your voice from outside and I knew something was wrong. I’m glad I came out when I did.”

“Me too.” For some reason, you’re nervous to look at him, so you keep your focus on the ground.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thank you again.”

“It was nothing. Seriously. I’m here anytime you need me.”

You stand, frozen in place with fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins. Eren’s voice, despite being beside you, seems distant.

“You’re shaking,” he notices, watching you carefully.

“Yeah, I’m just…I don’t know. I wish my roommate was here. I don’t want to be alone right now.” Unfortunately, Hannah decided last minute to study for finals at her boyfriend’s this weekend.

After a moment of contemplation, he says, “You can stay at my place. Until you’re feeling better.”

“Are you sure? You don’t feel weird about this?”

“No. We’re friends. Right?” It’s more of a question he wants confirmed, unsure himself.

You smile at him. “Yes. Friends.”

~~~

He leads her inside his apartment, waving over to the couch. “I’ll be back. I’m going to get a pillow and a blanket.”

Prior to heading into his bedroom, he goes into the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. She’s in his apartment in the middle of the night, and he’s almost certain she will be sleeping here. She’s scared and traumatized from that asshole who attacked her, and she didn’t want to be alone, so he offered to help.

Has he crossed the line? Is this okay?

Back downstairs, he hands her a pillow and throw blanket. “Here you go. Let me know if you need anything else.”

He’s ready to march right upstairs, slam his door shut, and pretend that this is all totally normal. That he’s totally fine. This is what friends do. They help each other. And that’s what they are now. Friends.

“Wait.”

She looks at him, eyes precious, innocent, and sweet. Arms wrapped tightly around the pillow. It has him melting like ice cream on a hot summer day.

“Can you…stay with me a while?”

He swallows loudly, nervous and excited all at once. “Of course.”

She smiles softly, laying on the cushion with the blanket surrounding her. He kneels on the floor beside her, still in awe that this is happening.

“It smells like you,” she says, nose pressed into the pillow.

He laughs. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“Good. It smells good.”

It’s too much. He’s about to explode from glee. On the edge of the couch, he rests his arm, laying his head on it, gazing at her. He wants to brush the hair away from her forehead. Caress her delicate cheek with his hand. “Are you okay?”

“Still a little freaked out.”

“We should report it. I’ll let Onyankopon know now – ”

“We can talk to him in the morning. I don’t want to be left alone right now.” Her hand sneaks out from under the covers, inches from his. There’s electricity flickering in the small space. It jolts throughout his body, firing synapses into his brain.

“Can I hold your hand?” she asks, voice trembling.

He’s convinced he’s dreaming now. There’s no way this is happening. But it is. She’s here in front of him. As real as ever.

He hesitates, “Are you sure?”

She nods, carefully sliding her hand over his.

Everything plays in slow motion. They press their palms together slowly, fingertips lined up perfectly, skin-on-skin igniting the ember that still remains from months ago. Savoring this moment before it gets taken away. Their fingers interlock, fitting seamlessly as if they belong exactly like this.

Breathless, he asks again, “Are you sure this is okay?” His whole body vibrates from the palpations overwhelming his chest, still in disbelief this is actually happening.

“Yes, Eren.” Her voice is soft, supple. It soothes him, makes him feel at peace.

“I don’t want to rush this.”

“Me neither.”

They remain in this position for a while, cherishing it for all it’s worth. So much is communicated between them without speaking. It’s in the eyes, their touch. The warmth that she emits, filling him up with euphoria he can’t find elsewhere.

It’s different this time. It’s right. He’ll do everything in his power not to mess it up again. His word lost all value the second he used it against her. So instead of telling her how he feels, he has to show her. Prove to her that he’s no longer afraid.

~~~

“Can I show you something?” He looks at you tenderly, eyes sparkling like brilliant emeralds unearthed through the dust.

Curious, you agree, giving him your full attention, a flutter in your belly from the anticipation.

He places your palm over his chest, holding you gently against him. Through the cotton of his shirt, you feel his heart pounding hard and fast.

“This is how I feel about you. This is what you do to me.”

You keep steady, relishing the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat. Understanding exactly what he’s trying to convey to you.

The two of you were always lost in translation, unsure how the other felt, what the other wanted. You were on different pages, sometimes even in two different worlds. Somehow, someway, you are brought together again, now in the same orbit, revolving one other like the universe intended it.

Your story with Eren has already been written. It began at the start of fall semester, almost a year ago, and ended a few months later, before the bitter cold of winter. There are no rewrites, no rewinds to change the events that occurred. Mistakes were made, hearts were broken, a chance at love was lost. Far from a fairytale ending.

Maybe this is the beginning of the sequel, a story about two people who are far from perfect finding their way back to each other for one last shot. Picking up the shattered fragments to build something beautiful from the ground up, piece by piece. There may be cracks or missing parts throughout. In the end, maybe it’ll be a masterpiece you can both be proud of, flaws and all.

----------

End Note: Thank you for all of you who have taken the time to read Rush the whole way through. It’s been such a fun ride and I hope it was worth it. The love and support I’ve gotten throughout means so much to me, I can’t thank you enough! I have a few ideas about what I want to write next, so stay tuned!

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Tag List: @jaegerxeren @thelovewitch0v0 @hippiecultz @silver-foxling-blog @eren-slut @littlelaur27 @mokyowife @thenamesaceee @mxnst3rz @itswhits @diamandveins @ritzzberitzz @xartisticoutletx @izukusupreme @erensfavblackie @tippy-toes @monbebe101 @crtzrulestheworld @maqqiekwon @where-the-blackbirds-sing @minibold @hilichurl01 @jbird0508 @rainzelenia @anonbbygirlsblog @prettygirllisa @ctrllovre @4522-08 @laiorelle @pompompurjin @inbriannawestrust @alicebleu @sparkles-and-rust @neopussytechnology @kpopisbaeforever @kindmarely @weasleyisourking1 @taqsyq @guesswhosback129 @shinisthebest @hiromihanagaki @therarestruby @lovinghirotaka

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hiyyihrts · 8 months ago

Text

Parks, Picnics, and Pound Cake: A One-Shot Polin Fanfic

Summary:

Colin Bridgerton is gone for a month-long venture with his brother Benedict for artful inspiration outside of London. Benedict has the time of his life, happy to chat with locals and indulge in new dishes; while Colin can do nothing but write dozens of letters to his wife at home, wishing for nothing but to have her in his arms once again and to feel her warmth.

Colin is convinced she’ll drop everything upon his arrival and take him to their bedroom at once.

Penelope Bridgerton has other ideas for her husband.

AO3:

Colin Bridgerton is many, many things. He’s charismatic, charming, complimentary, practically any word you can think of that starts with a C could be used to describe him. Except for a specific word that comes to mind, but that is a bone to pick for another day. He’s always been partial to C-centric words, though, probably to do with his given name starting with the same. However, any word that could be taken as a compliment in the English alphabet is something that could most likely pertain to Colin.

The only word that no one close to him would use to attribute to his personality would be patience. Specifically, patience when it comes to traveling, and patience when it comes to anything regarding his wife, Penelope.

Since he had given up his lifestyle of traveling for months on end to be with his love, that patience had transmitted itself to something he had to apply to his relationship instead. But not in the sense that he was quick to annoyance or anger. While his wife sometimes tempted those emotions, he rarely came to direct anger anymore since being together. No, his patience stemmed into physical patience. His wife made him nothing short of a saint with the way she made him keep his hands to himself at all occasions, never allowing him to be untoward unless they were alone, in the private of their home or bedchamber of whatever residence they found themselves in.

His patience for this was hung by the skin of his teeth, day in and day out, because his wife was beautiful. She was a goddess come to life, a gorgeous woman that every man should have been desiring for years on end (this, however, was not allowed unless he himself was the one doing the desiring, because no man should dare look at her untoward until he was cold in the ground and long gone from this Earth).

Ringlets of sunset-colored hair and a button nose that he wanted to touch with his own, and deep, ocean-blue eyes he wanted to drown in endlessly, his Venus in her clam shell that would be remembered through his history and then some. The curves of her hips and the fullness of her bosom would be enough to make all of the Greek statues in existence weep with envy. He could lose himself in her beauty, and wit combined, for the rest of his days. Whether she was gazing out a parlor window, pained with the forces of laboring a child, or deep in pleasure writhing beneath him, she was beautiful- always a sight to behold.

And she was his. His love and wife and everything good in this world for him.

So when he’d been gone for a month with Benedict, he had done nothing but crave her. Every morning he awoke to lovely sunrise, with the sun shining in on him with a vibrancy different to the London skies, but it wasn’t quite as appealing to him unless she was beside him. And his brother interrupting the solitude of silence was also an annoyance he could have done without.

He wrote to her, of course, as they always did when they were away from one another for longer than necessary. Even as children they had done so, before they had ever thought of courtship or marriage or anything but being friends. Or, that’s how Colin remembers it at least. Penelope would beg to differ on the timelines and semantics, but that is a tale for another time. But nonetheless, he’d written to her, and she had not responded. He hadn’t expected her to, as the time it would take for the letters to arrive could vary greatly, and they’d been home by the time any of them had crossed into the country anyhow. Most of them were nothing but his longing for her and their child. He missed them both terribly, and he missed the intimacy he’d grown accustomed to from them both.

He’d been ecstatic to arrive back in London. It was all he could do not to jump out of the carriage once they’d neared London and run at his full speed all the way to his love. He hadn’t done that, though, obviously. He’d been patient. Like his wife would have wanted him to be. He’d waited a month to see her, after all; a few more hours wouldn’t hurt him. Although, they might make him combust from the inside with nerves, but nothing physically capable, anyhow.

The carriage ride had them stopping in front of Number Five like anticipated around mid-day. His wife was to be there with his mother, Violet, and Benedict’s wife, Sophie, upon arrival to greet them after their travels.

But once Colin stepped down from stifling heat of the carriage, his wife was no where to be seen. In fact, only his mother greeted them at the front gates, a large smile on her face. She took quick steps forward to embrace her two songs in one large embrace. They had to bend down to accompany her size, and both when released gave her a kiss on the cheek. Both men looked at her with the unasked question that hung in the air- Where were their wives?

Violet puffed out a quiet laugh, “Ah, it’s been so hot this morning that the ladies have had to keep cool inside. They said they would be on their way out in a moment, but it’s been a few bit since then.”

Colin looked up to the sky at that. The sun beat down uncharacteristically hot. Not a cloud lazed in the sky, making its beams feel all the more oppressive out in the open, unwelcome unless obscured by shade. He was starting to feel a prickle of sweat along his back standing outside, with hardly a breeze to cool him off. After a moment he heard the click of a door opening, and he stared past his mother to the front door. It took him a moment to adjust to not looking directly at the sun (stupid of him, he knows) but when he did he saw his wife and Sophie stepping down the walkway towards them.

Ah, how he missed his Pen.

He felt his breath leave his lungs in a rush and his heart swell in his chest, tight and aching for her. She wore a stunningly blue piece, light in color with white trim, and her hair laid coiled in an updo as it usually did most days. The color shown fiery in the sunlight while her dress shown pale, as if it were translucent in color and not a baby blue ensemble.

While Sophie ran to meet Benedict, Penelope hurriedly came to him with tears in her eyes threatening to fall and a radiant smile crossing her face. Penelope wasn’t one for theatrics or inappropriate advances, especially in public where eyes were always on one another, so she refrained from hugging him and halted with stuttering steps in front of him. She was mere centimeters away yet Colin felt as if an ocean lay between them. His fingers twitched at his sides to brush the tear that had fallen from its stubborn hold of her blue eyes, but he refrained. He was a gentlemen after all, her being his wife or no.

“Colin.” She said, smiling at him with flushed, rose colored cheeks.

”Pen.” He replied, with probably just as flushed skin as she, taking in every niche and sight of her he could.

A bead of sweat dropped from her hairline to her cheek, and ran down the line of her jaw to her, mixing with the stray tear, and landed on her chest. Colin’s eyes flitted to the droplet, now sliding down to the dip between her breasts and flowing to a place he’d dreamed about for weeks now. He licked his lips and sucked in a shaky breath. He forced his gaze to flit back up to hers, focusing on something other than the fantasies he’d had over his travels about her.

She must have been thinking the same, because her smile widened into a grin, and she had that teasing look in her eye she got when she was meant to playfully scold him. She must want to get out of the sight of his family as fast as he did.

She took a step closer and brushed her gloved fingers with his and said, “I’ve arranged for a picnic.”

———

“When you said you’d like for us to go for a picnic, I hadn’t thought you actually meant a picnic.” Colin grumbled.

He held Penelope’s arm in the crook of his elbow, trailing her along for a promenade along the river. He had to bend slightly to adjust to her height, but he made it work, even if it was slightly uncomfortable to stagger about. They nodded to other couples and families they passed by, a few mumbled names and “Mr. Bridgerton and Mrs. Bridgerton’s” following suite. He shifted the small basket his mother’s cook had arranged for them on his arm. He would never admit it out loud but it was becoming a bit tedious to carry. And by God was it hot. His hair kept sticking to his forehead and rivulets of sweat were running down his back at lightning speed. He sure Penelope wasn’t fairing much better. The fan in her hand had been working overtime to keep a modicum of her complexion less flushed, but it would be of no use. She was prone to a red tinge as it was, and the heat only accentuated the color.

“Don’t be melancholy, Colin. I thought it’d be nice for us to promenade after so long away from one another. It’s also a nice day out. We should enjoy it while it lasts.” Penelope remarked, always trying to look for the positive in any situation.

He grunted in reply, trying not to yank her arm up as he maneuvered the basket again.

”I rather thought there’d be other things on your mind after not seeing your husband for a month rather than a damned promenade.”

Penelope swatted at his arm harshly, “Colin Bridgerton, do not speak that way.” She lowered her voice to a hissed whisper, “Not while we’re in public, at the very least.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes, but held his tongue. She was right, of course, but she had a way of bringing out his fallacies like no other that made him want to curse as if it were his first profession.

“Besides, what else would you have had in mind if not a nice promenade?” Her tone remained aloof as she asked the question, but her eyes moved too quickly away from his own to warrant any other response except for a cheeky remark.

He stepped slightly closer to her side, pulling her into him, slowing their walk to a crawl. He leaned down until his breath hit the shell of her ear, and said, “I’m sure we can think of a few ideas, my love.”

She did not reply, yet her chest rose and fell quickly, and her hold on his arm tightened slightly. Colin looked down to her gloved hand fisted into his coat sleeve, and he knew some chord had been struck.

Penelope cleared her throat and looked off to to the distance, focusing on some geese or tuft of grass that held no actual significance to her. It was just a way to distract herself from what her husband was implying to her out in the open. A cherry red flush creeped up her neck and Colin was quick to take notice.

He bit his lip to contain his smile, pulling her closer to his side. Or, at the very least as much as social propriety allowed between a husband and wife in public. If anything she could blame the flaming of her skin to the scorching sun overhead, and no one would be none the wiser.

But they would know, of course. And, God, he wanted this picnic to be over with now more than ever.

Colin quickened their pace along the walkway, foregoing minimal formalities if they passed by anyone walking towards them. Spotting a thicket of trees that led into a more dense forest ahead of them, he steered them off the popular path and pushed his wife towards a small dirt step way, Penelope uttering a snapped “Colin!” as he did.

As they traveled further into the forest, Colin realized that the path he’d chosen was hardly even a path at all. It was an unclear rut of rocks and packed dirt, and both him and Penelope struggled to work their way through the thicket. The only reason he’d led them this way was because he knew of a small, secluded clearing he’d discovered in his youth with his brothers. They’d hide out here to get away from their Mother during promenades, if they could help it at all.

Violet never caught on to their antics, so it’s even more likely no one else would find him and his wife here, either. And that, in the moment for Colin, was the most glorious thought he’d ever had.

Penelope stumbled a few times, her skirts catching on fallen branches and thickets. Colin was there to hold her up with an arm wrapped around her waist in support, feeling her let go of her own weight to have him hold her. He relished in it, being able to feel the curve of her stomach and grip her hip through the fabric of her gown, almost as if he could feel her skin between his finger instead.

Soon. Soon he would be able to feel her in full.

When they finally reached the end of the path, Penelope gasped, surprised to see a clearing of grass dotted with blooms of flowers all around. A tree bore overhead a portion of the clearing, providing some shade from the sweltering sun even further above.

“Oh Colin, it’s beautiful.” She said.

He grinned.

And led her to the patch beneath the tree, setting the basket down at his feet and opening it to see if a blanket had been provided for them to sit on. Of course, there was, as his mother’s cook and maids were always very meticulous when it came towards her children. There weren’t many items in the basket, as the blanket took up most of the room, but there were a few sandwiches and some lemon pound cake for dessert. No beverages, though. Alas, some moments couldn’t always be perfect.

Birds chirped a melody above their heads, and the taller grass swayed in the slight breeze that had steadily built as the day dragged on. Colin laid the thin blanket out as flat as he could manage, and held his wife’s hands as she sat herself down and bent her legs underneath her. She fixed her skirts to splay out in a circle around her, and it seemed to swallow her short frame whole, and her eyes buzzed with a shine of excitement and love.

Oh, how he’d missed her.

Sitting himself down beside her, he divided their portions using the utensils that had been provided, and they ate quietly. The silence of the moment and the solitude of the clearing washed over them, calm and resolute. He’d missed his wife’s body, yes, how could he never not miss the shape of her and the feel of her pressed against him? He’d have to be mad to think otherwise. But, he would never be remised to admit that he missed her company alone even more so. Her whit and humor were what brought a smile to his lips first thing in the morning. Her light laughter at something he’d said or something their child had done in learning were what made him want to walk this Earth endlessly. He’d do anything to keep his wife and child in his life for as long as he could. So, yes, he missed her body, but he missed her soul even more.

Beside him Penelope delicately took her gloves off to eat her dessert. The sandwiches hadn’t been too messy for her, so she’d kept them on, but the dessert was too hearty and coated with melting icing. She picked a slice up placed between her ring, forefinger, and thumb, gripping it with an intensity even he found admiring. He appreciated someone as involved with their food as he was.

He watched as she held the slice to her mouth and took a bite from it, chewing methodically, not taking notice to the pair of eyes trained on her movements. A dribble of icing coated the corner of her lips. The tip of Penelope’s tongue darted out to lick it away, trailing across her plump bottom lip and sweeping along the other corner. She hummed in approval as she swallowed the first bite- and Colin felt it rumble low in his groin.

She continued eating her cake, oblivious to her husband’s molten gaze holding her captive. The heat was stifling, even while in the shade, and her slice of lemon cake wasn’t immune to its forces. The icing that the cook had probably slaved over in the early hours of this days morning was undone in mere minutes outside. It trickled down slowly between Penelope’s fingers, drawing a line down her palm to the delicate bend of her wrist. And Colin’s eyes followed relentlessly. Her gloves were gone, and her arms were bare and pale and glowing with lemon-glazed goodness. She allowed the icing to drip and drop and flow down her fingers and hand while her husband’s resolve faded to dust.

His patience for her finally snapped when she opened her mouth and inched her fingertips towards her outstretched tongue. Colin grasped her forearm and hurled her forward. Penelope let out a burble of words that didn’t quite form coherently into anything and fell into her husband’s chest and into his personal space. Her left hand was held in Colin’s iron grip, and her right landed precariously on his thigh, dangerously close to his throbbing need.

Patience, patience, Colin.

Penelope’s eyes flitted back and forth from Colin’s hold on her to his own heady gaze. His eyes darkened and he leaned in to her icing-covered fingers. His wife’s breath puffed out, hot and smelling faintly of lemon, against his lips, then hitched when he darted his tongue out to lick at the pad of her fingers. Her cheeks flushed bright red. Her hand on his thigh clenched into a fist, holding tight to the thick fabric. Colin took the pad fully into his mouth, sucking lightly, bobbing his head down one knuckle, then the next, until her finger was completely between his lips and his tongue circled it clean. When he finished with the first finger, he moved to the next, then to her thumb, licking and swirling as if he were between her legs and sucking the sensitive bud hidden within her folds. Satisfied with the state of her fingers, he lapped at her palm, then dipped his head down to lick and bite at the thin skin of her wrist.

She let out a whimper from her parted lips, leaning impossibly forward until her eyes were level with his and their mouths were centimeters apart. Colin continued his kitten licks along her palm, sighing out against her skin, “You cannot know what you do to me, my dear.” Her head tilted so her lips could graze the stubble along his cheek, carving a path to the lobe of his ear, which she took between her teeth for a moment. Colin fought the urge to tip his head back and let her work her plump, radiant lips at the line of his jaw, a low groan forming in the back of his throat.

Penelope’s breath hit the shell of his ear, and it made him shiver in the heat of the summer day, “Mr. Bridgerton, you forget that I know all in this town and relationship.”

Colin’s resolve snapped along with his patience, thrown to the wind and gone for the while. He crushed her flush to him, finding her lips as quickly as he could in his haste. It was nothing but teeth and open mouths, carnal and anything short of a romantic, lingering kiss. He wanted her, and she wanted him. The romantics would have to wait for later.

She moaned into his mouth the moment his tongue touched hers, whining and full of need. Her breasts pushed against his chest in the best way, and her hand roamed in altering grips in his hair, her other moving closer and closer to his hard on for her. Sweat was already forming on their temples, running in rivulets down their cheeks and stinging their eyes when they opened to find a place the other wanted to devour. Penelope lingered on his lips at first, then she changed her mind and mouthed at the curve of his jaw and neck. Colin’s eyes darted to the deep cleavage exposed by her position against him, hunger clouding his vision. They were practically ripping the seams of her dress, begging for them to be taken into his mouth and worshipped.

His fingers moved aptly towards the few buttons that trapped her inside the suffocating gown, undoing them with a swiftness that even a seamstress would be impressed by. Before he pulled it down, he grabbed Penelope by her bottom and heaved her into his lap, making an attempt for her to straddle his waist. She obliged, doing her best to hike the fabric of her dress up and around her thighs. Though she participated in the action, her words were hesitant, not as confident as she’d been a moment ago whispering into this ear.

“Colin-“ He dragged her dress down her shoulders, helping her slide her arms out of the holes. “We’re in public!” Colin undid the bindings of her bodice, though simple in style, it was hard to maneuver through. He grunted at her as he struggled to undo the ties, his fingers fumbling and shaking with nerves.

”It does not matter.”

”But what if someone sees-“ She hissed.

”They do not matter!” Colin growled, ripping the bodice in frustration and tearing it off of Penelope in one fell swoop. The gasp that escaped her turned in to a low moan as Colin cupped at her breasts.

“Finally.” He murmured, dipping his head to take one of her nipples into his mouth, teething it to a hard bud. She arched into him, her legs tightening around his waist and cried out.

Colin released her at the sound, glancing up through his lashes at his wife, deep cherry red cheeks and parted lips kissed raw and swollen. He made sure to accentuate each breath against her goose-fleshed skin as he said “If you don’t want someone to find us, my dear, you need to be quiet.”

She whined and rocked her hips down. “Make me, please, Colin.”

Christ above, Penelope Bridgerton was going to drive him to absolute madness.

He flashed her a grin, giving her a quick kiss on her lips and cheek. “Trust me, love. I imagine what I plan will have it nigh impossible for you to keep your pleasures at bay.” Her response was to grind on his clothed length.

He strained against his breeches, aching and uncomfortable in its entrapment. He shifted to lower Penelope onto her back on the blanket so he could remove his garments. She moved to cover her top with her arms, but a sharp glare from Colin had her lowering her arms to lay on either side of her head instead. Her hair laid like an orange halo around her, blending in to the shade of red her skin was turning at being exposed. Her skirts had draped down over her legs again, covering her deliciously decadent thighs. It irked Colin, and Penelope could notice. She quirked a brow at him in question of if he was going to act on it.

Slowly, he took the hem of her skirts and lifted it back up. He made sure to graze along her legs with his fingers as he did, and also making sure his wife didn’t cross her knees together in embarrassment at her womanhood showing so openly. No undergarments were in sight, letting Colin take in all of Penelope’s beautiful intimates. He swallowed at how she dripped with need, with want, for him, no less. It was enough to make a man fall to his knees in devotion.

Colin licked his dry lips, sucking in a sharp breath of air. He caught Penelope’s gaze and held it as he went to reveal himself. His fingers fumbled in anticipation, but he eventually got his breeches down to his thighs, his member springing free finally after a month of longing to be sheathed in his wife for eternity. No matter how many times they did this he always felt the giddy anticipation of a green boy in love for the first time. It was how Penelope always made him feel, and had made him feel, for many years now.

He shuffled to hover over Penelope, settling himself between her legs, taking her dress and hiking it further over her legs. Her chest heaved up and down as his fingers brushed stray hairs from her face. He nodded at her for reassurance, and she nodded subtly back, cheeks flushing like a young maiden in love.

He first touched her with his fingers, feeling her heat and wetness along the pads, feeling her in her most vulnerable areas. He wanted to make the slide as painless as possible for her, of course. He wasn’t going to get pleasure if she wasn’t feeling it as well. When he inserted his finger down to the knuckle she sighed, closing her eyes as he crooked it inside her, in and out again. He paused after a moment to insert another, and paused every few menstruation’s to wet his length for her. Every time he pulled out she opened her eyes to make sure he was coming back, mewling at him when he inserted his fingers inside her again. She bucked her hips up when he had three in all to their knuckles, not quite reaching that bundle of nerves she needed him to, but so close all the same. Every time he neared it she bucked up into him, mouth hung open in pleasure.

Colin watched her writhe beneath him until she was close, then he stopped abruptly. She looked at him with both a mix of rage and the most adorable pout of her lips she could muster, and he couldn’t help but find it endearing.

“I think you’re ready, now.” He grinned at her, adjusting himself and lining up to her entrance.

She did nothing but huff at him, but he noticed she inched her hips closer and closer to him. As the tip of his shaft entered her, he trembled, shook with the pleasure of feeling her around him again. He’d thought about it, dreamed about it, and had even written about his want to be buried within her over his time away. He was a man in love and a man without for so long, it was bound to make him practically delirious with desire when he arrived home.

And now he was here, not dreaming, not imaging it, but here with his wife. In the park, on a picnic in a secluded area of the woods, eating lemon pound cake, and fucking his wife like they’d never get the chance to again. He tried to be gentle as he fully sheathed himself in her, grinding his hips lightly against her in an effort to be slow. Once he was in all the way, they both paused, breathing heavy, staring into the other’s deep, blue eyes.

This was love. This moment right here. It wasn’t the main one, but it was love in its purest form, in its most vulnerable and pivotal. They were both exposed in more ways than one, but they were exposed together, with one another.

Colin cupped Penelope’s cheek with his palm, brushing his thumb along her swollen lips. “Open for me, love.” And she did. Her lips parted and he slipped two of his fingers lightly inside, resting the pads of them on her tongue. Her teeth grazed his skin, not unpleasantly. “Now close.” He ordered. And she wrapped her lips around his digits, holding them there in place. His slid his hips back to slide out of her, the air hitting his heated skin and making him shiver again. He took his other hand to hold Penelope’s next to her head, clasping their fingers together and intertwining them, and he squeezed.

Penelope bobbed her head in a nod, and Colin slammed back into her with a force he’d been holding back on until now. He buried himself in and out of her relentlessly, slamming into her for any sort of relief he could find for his aching cock. Penelope bit down on his fingers as he hurried his pace, moaning with each hit inside her, squeezing Colin’s hand in a death grip that he was sure to leave bruises along the back of his hand when they were done. She tried to thrash her head to the side, but Colin’s hold on her with his fingers prevented her from doing so.

She was slick and warm for him, making his relentless pace in and out of her an easy slide. It spurred him on, knowing she was this wet for him and only him, and that she’d only be this way for him always. No one else would be privy to how she looked when she was on the flush of an orgasm, or when she was close to screaming from his pleasuring, nor would anyone ever witness how utterly wrecked he must look lusting over her, his wife, his everything to him.

Colin kept his pace, fraught at the thought of tiring himself out after waiting so long for her. He was close, embarrassingly close for such a short time, and he couldn’t hold himself back from wanting to drive into Penelope with wild abandon. He mumbles a sorry as he rips his fingers from their hold in her mouth and unclasps their hands so he can grip her hips instead. He rocks back to sit on the balls of his heels, lifting Penelope’s hips up so he can slam into her at an angle now, sheathing himself deeper and deeper into her for relief.

Now he was hitting that sweet spot of hers he loved so much, her cries inaudible as she reaches her peak. She lets out the tiniest of moans when she comes, tightening around Colin’s cock inside her. And it’s enough to send him spiraling. He spills into her soon after, her whines urging him on and keeping him ramming into her until he’s spent completely.

When he’s through, Colin collapses on top of his wife, caging her in with his frame. They both heave with exhaustion, the clearing silent but for their labored breathing. Colin goes soft inside her, but he doesn’t want to pull out. He enjoys her warmth, arousal or not, and wants to relish in this moment with her.

Colin hears a sniffle in his ear. He whips his head up to see his wife crying, arousal flushed cheeks streaked with tears.

“Pen, what is it? What’s wrong?” He inquires, worried he’d done something to hurt her in his endeavors.

Penelope wipes at her eyes, shaking her head. Colin holds himself up, ready to pull out of her, but she stops him, gripping his forearm tightly.

“No, no. Stay, please.” She says.

He stills, stiff in her hold.

”Please, Pen, tell me what did I do wrong?”

Her eyes grow watery again and her lips wiggle in a pout. She wraps her arms around Colin’s neck and yanks him down to her, maneuvering his head to rest in the crook of her neck. He feels more tears wet his cheeks as they fall between them.

“I… I just missed you so much, Colin.” Penelope confesses.

That’s when Colin realizes that he hadn’t actually done anything to hurt his wife. She just missed him. As he missed her. This was what he loved about his love, this was what love meant to him. It meant Penelope loving him for him. It meant Penelope missing him. It meant Penelope going along with his antics of fucking in a public park, amongst the eyes of God and men alike.

She was his. And he was hers. She was home.

———

“Colin, did you leave my basket at the park?”

Violet questioned her son upon his arrival to Number Five. He arrived alone. With no basket, and no wife in sight.

“No, no, mother, I have it right here.” He hastily places it on the table next to his mother where she sits in the drawing room, observing her son.

”You were gone for quite a while.” She remarks.

Colin nods, “We haven’t seen one another for quite a while.”

”Hm.” Violent hums.

”Well then, mother, I’ll be taking my leave. It was lovely to see you again.”

Her son kisses her on the cheek and then walks out of the room. If she notices the blush that crept along his neck at her questioning, she doesn’t say.

And if her cook finds a ripped bodice bundled up in the blanket within the picnic basket later on in the week, they certainly do not say so.

#this isn’t supposed to be canon it’s just smith I thought would be fun! don’t take it too seriously #bridgerton #polin #polin fic #polin fanfiction #penelope x colin #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #penelope bridgerton

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woneuntonzz · 5 months ago

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𝖙𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖈𝖔𝖔𝖐𝖎𝖊 || s.mg x reader

An alternate universe of wizards, witches, and celestial beings

ꜱʏᴘɴᴏꜱɪꜱ: In the tales created by the rulers of mystic society, all the magic in the world came from a single stone —the White Diamond— and was bestowed to the world by the very first sorcerers that hailed from the heavens; the Keepers. Those tales turned out to be true. And now, an evil force seeks the the power of the White Diamond. This evil overpowered the Keepers, leaving you who had retired from being of high power. Now it is up to you to fight this evil and await the hero from the prophecy that is said to be the saviour of the world.

contains: angst, fluff, a dash of humor, slightly suggestive (just squint maybe?), combat and blood, fantastical, names and themes derived from greek mythology, angels and demons, use of spells and incantations, (an attempt) made up greek chant, telepathy, wizards and witches, and wands, extensive backgrounds

word count: 8.17k

[an: yes, there is a part two (and quite possible a three) after this week]

⛦ ᴊᴏɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ!

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭 .ᐟ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You’ve laid out a new batch of freshly baked cookies, straight out the oven and still bathe your face with steam. The smell of different cooked sugars and the aroma of the dozen flavors you had to offer whistled for customers that roamed the outside world. It was a heavenly time of the day, where wizards, witches and their children came with such delightful faces that wanted nothing more but a bite of your warm and delectable pastries.

“Lemon chiffon please, five slices.” the velvet-haired witch smiles at you with her pearly white canines, holding her son’s hand. The boy was about the height of your shoulders and he wore a junior wizard badge on his blazer.

“Coming right up!” your voice, jolly and as sweet as your baked goods, made them smile. You’d watch them from the corner of your eyes as you got them five slices of the lemon chiffon cake from the display case.

The bells chimed right as you went back to them. More customers had arrived as the sunshine warmed up the sorcerous lands.

Those were simpler times. When magic was as wonderful as they’d be in children’s fantasies. It was all gone. A dark force took over what was once the land of joy and enchantment, now an ominous place where it was all shades of black, gray, and blood. Then, no one would dare challenge the sentinels that watched over the mystic grounds, but they were all gone with what seemed like a snap of a finger. Evil reigned upon the kingdom of sorcerers, the king they praised and loved was slain and his head was hung at the Fountain of Tears, the very center of the land.

You had failed to aid the sorcerers at battle, concealing the last shard of the White Diamond —what the great Ahriman seeked that would give him all the magic in the world. He’d be unstoppable. You had it with you, ever since being brought down on Earth as a Keeper. The White Diamond was the source of all magic that ran through the very land you walk on. The dawn of mystic society began with the Keepers shattering the White Diamond, releasing its magic and finding its way to the wizards and witches of today. There was no use for the Keepers to hide such power as you were already granted with eternal life and sorcery at birth. Each shard was kept between twelve Keepers —including you, and with the progression of mystic society, you left the guardian life behind, settling at a cozy spot in town as a baker. It was no ideal life for some, but for someone like you who had endured thousands of years and hundreds of wars, it was the best gift life could offer. Living amongst the mortals, you carried a shard of the White Diamond, keeping it hidden with an obscuring spell.

You knew the time was bound to come, that one vicious soul would one day seek the power of the White Diamond. It was the sole reason why the shards were kept separately. It was in the prophecy.

“Destruction awaits your haven, and a sword with the devil’s essence…”

Ahriman was once a loyal servant of the south kingdom where there was no magic. He lost his family to an unforeseeable attack that killed a few dozen families. There was no truth to who might be the culprit, but Ahriman believed it was the mystic society. Blue flames and glittered fumes, it was magic, and he was certain it was the work of a sorcerer. Yet, there is no motivation for the mystic society to attack. With the lack of reason, Ahriman was hindered with his mission to seek vengeance and was locked away by the king. He spent two decades inside that dungeon, with pent up wrath and anguish. The spirit of Belial sensed the great power he withheld. Belial was banished under the oceans of eternal agony —Keeper Cordelia’s prison for banished spirits— but his power remained puissant, as his remaining disciples chanted his name he was able to whisper to Ahriman and grant him the strength of six armies. Ahriman escaped, leaving the walls of his prison obstructed. He was to come back to the south to kill the king, but not without the power of the White Diamond.

At the occurrence of those events, you were already retired from being a Keeper and surrendered your magic to the old Keepers’ well. You blended in with the mortals, using incantations and spells, and a wand granted to you by Keeper Zephyr as a token. They were your family, and they understood your reasons. Never did they question nor oppose your decisions. You’ve served well, and it is you who gave the mystic society its mystique. You found the White Diamond from the caves of the lost tribes, and the spirit of the tribes told you to shatter the diamond, and the fate of the society would be in the hands of the Keepers. It was from those spirits that you’d be given that prophecy. Along with Ahriman’s rule, was the rise of a hero.

“Young eyes you’ll meet, and he will wear the darkness when he returns. He is the might of the society, his heart is the true yielder of the White Diamond and he will save a Keeper’s soul.”

The hero was yet to come. But you had to wait. You hoped that the hero was a sorcerer who can help you revive your magic from the well. Because after Ahriman’s attack on mystic society, what was once your sanctuary for your passions of tending to the wizards and witches, would become a desolate place for potions and wands bound to no possessors. You were in no power to resist nor attempt to fight the circumstances. You’ve had futile attempts at the well, unable to solve the Keepers’ riddles, and your magic would remain with the well’s dew. Ahriman’s soldiers would come into your shack thrice a week for duneberry serums to get rid of any wounds, relieve any pain. On occasion, they would stop by to retrieve special potions —that you had received a mandate letter for— that you could only guess was for battling and slaying the mystic beasts of the society woodlands. You’ve been given an order to brew silver hare drops at the time of Aries. It was used on weapons, splayed on blades. Once the solution is mixed in with a being’s blood, their heart will stop within the count of five seconds for smaller bodies, and twelve seconds for larger ones. You knew they visited your shop for a cruel purpose, under vengeful orders. You knew you shamed Keeper Fauna’s values. The mystic society was meant to house and protect those beasts because they protected the mystic from monsters that dare threaten the society’s inhabitants.

For years, you’ve been devising a plan to escape this land of chaos, and retrieve your powers from the well. And soon you’ll meet the hero in the prophecy and save the mystic society. It just won’t be very soon. Escaping was harder than living under Ahriman’s ruling. The sentinels became punishers, minds corrupted to serve the great evil. You did not have enough strength or magic to get past them, and they were near every means of escape. It was a seemingly impossible dream that you’ve fostered for a decade. And Ahriman was still on the hunt for the White Diamond’s missing piece. You knew by then that he had killed the other Keepers with Belial’s influence. You could hear Belial’s whispers again, that’s when you knew that he was coming back once he’s garnered all the power Ahriman had to offer to him through bloodlust. He would rise from the oceans of eternal agony with his army of undead wizards, then he would yield all the gold of Earth and call for the wrathful dragon, undefeated and fated to destroy the world, the gateway to Ragnarök, Flauros.

As long as the last shard is with you, Ahriman’s malevolent schemes will be thwarted. Nights left no room for sleep as you studied the shard. Tapping the end of your wand against its sharp edges, it creates small sparks that produce puffs of smoke and magic dust. It smelt of dew of the caves from which the White Diamond was found. The shard would illuminate when held, but it would be very meek. The first time you held the White Diamond —when it was still intact— its shine lit up the entire cave. The diamond as a whole emitted sparks of endless magic dust that landed all over your hands and all over your silk, translucent robe. The shard alone that you held in your hand at this very moment does not behave the same if not thoroughly meddled with.

“...his heart is the true yielder of the White Diamond…

and he will save a Keeper’s soul…”

It was midnight, and the sudden knock to your shop’s locked door spiked the fear in your nerves. It could be Ahriman’s soldiers —or Ahriman himself, coming to seize that last shard. You are defenseless without your magic, your wand and spells will never be enough to fight him or his men as they were granted power by Belial and were under his control. Belial’s spirit would only grow stronger, and soon, fragments of his consciousness would live within their souls. You feared that when you answered the door, you'd look straight into Belial’s eyes, like you did before when you sought to capture him. It was you who battled him with telepathy —the gift of your magic— and loss, your soul almost being eaten by him. Taking a deep breath, you unlock the door, sliding the latch off, you release some air, right before opening the door, just enough for you to peek.

But you would be met with nothing but the darkness of night. “To who’s knock have I answered?” you’ve counted the few seconds of silence —twenty long seconds, before a hand slightly pushes the door open. “You mustn't enter without your answer. To who’s knock have I answered?”

It was a man, and he would clear his throat before he sounded his response, “I am looking for the sorceress Y/n.”

He tried to push the door open, but you’d keep it still with your hand from the inside. “To who’s knock have I answered?”

“I am Mingi. I’m the son of the head witch of Celeste’s manor.”

Celeste —the name given to you by the Gods as a Keeper. You were one with the celestial bodies, their light giving you power to look into the minds of mortals and immortals alike, and control them. But you no longer had that power with you. “Inside.”

You spread the door open, finally seeing his full figure. He was dressed in black, a long coat and a homburg on his head. You meet his eyes that were the color of silver. You knew him, and his mother most of all —the only mortal that knew of your true self, the witch you’ve entrusted your treasures, crystals, and manor with, head witch Verbena. Your manor was a shelter to young witches who attend collegiate courses for sorcery, alchemy, and psychomancy at the mystic academy. You used to visit when you had the time, dropping off pastries for the witches, and for the little boy that ran through the halls to ask if you had brought his favorite. The little boy who asked for lemon chiffon cake, was now the man who stood before you.

“Why do you seek me?” you ask, rushing to lock the door behind him.

“You do remember me, right?” his voice was deep, yet anxious. “You knew my mother too.”

“Yes I do, Mingi.”

“Mom was killed by Ahriman’s soldiers.”

You were suddenly breathing thick air, your huffs becoming audible amidst the silence. “Verbena…” with your feeble utterance, Mingi removes his hat, revealing his fawn-colored locks, then he discards his long coat, hanging it over his forearm. He wore a black suit underneath, posh looking with silver motifs all over.

“I was called here by…” he avoids your eyes, looking for his next words within the cracks of the floorboards. “It was a voice in my dreams. I know it sounds crazy but—”

“Mingi, nothing will ever be crazy in our world.” you interrupt him, a soft chuckle leaving your lips as you speak.

“Right.” he clears his throat again. “The voice told me to go here. I know this used to be the town's favorite bakery, the voice was showing me that and told me to find the missing piece.”

Your eyes dilate, realizing he might be sent by Ahriman to steal the last piece of the diamond. “Mingi, who do you bow to?”

“Me? I-I bow to the Keepers.” he stutters, and you took a minute for yourself to grasp the tone of his voice and his mannerisms.

“The truth, Mingi.”

“I am telling the truth, sorceress.”

You find it pleasurable for him to refer to you as sorceress, you figured perhaps he must know you were a Keeper yourself. If you had your magic, it would be easy for you to tell whether he was being honest. But now you have to rely on your mortal instincts.

“Then, what is the missing piece?”

His eyes wandered around again for mere seconds before he sighed, “I don’t know for sure. My dream was quite discreet with the details.” he utters, eyes finding yours.

You watch as his gaze falls all over your features, examining your very stature. He motions as if he was about to say something, but then he hesitates and decides to not do so anyway. You walk closer to him, taking the coat off his forearm.

“Follow me.” you say as you walk to the back of your shop, into your room.

You could hear his heavy footsteps against the wood floor, creaking slightly. When you got inside, you realized you had forgotten to turn off the lights at the main area of the shop, “Sit down and settle yourself. I’ll be right back.” you placed his folded coat on your bed before you went and closed the lights.

It only took you a minute or two, but when you came back, Mingi was standing next to your workbench, where you had laid the diamond.

“Don’t touch that!” you kept your voice quiet, avoiding creating any noises that would draw in soldiers or punishers.

“I’m sorry.” he utters, dropping the wand in his hand that he used to poke the shard.

You walk over to him, picking up the wand. You were an inch apart as you stood from lowering yourself to the ground. You prod the end of the wand on his chest as a threat.

“I apologize, sorceress. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” his soft utterance made you gulp, for how matter how mellow he had intended for it to be, his voice was still deep, like Cordelia’s oceans.

“Sit down. Anywhere’s fine.” your back was already facing him when you spoke.

You heard your lounge chair squeak a tad, then silence followed after. You walk back to your workbench where you’ve laid out books and old scrolls, a few wands from the wizards that were executed by the Fountain of Tears, and a stack of papers —a map standing out amongst all of them. It’s a roamer’s map. You’ve met a wayfinder in one of your expeditions before. He was of tall stature, alike Mingi —but unlike the shadow dressed man, Yunho wore white and a cloak that could conceal anything beneath its material. He gave you this map just because it “felt necessary”. The roamers map shows everything within its area of perimeters —it takes up about the size of a country— and moving sites will change the map’s scope.

“Sorceress, can I ask you something?”

Your head averted from the map, snapping up at him. “Surely. Ask away.”

He nods, once again looking away like he’s forgotten his question. Though, it wouldn’t take him a while until he asked you, “You aren’t a mortal, are you?” you nod to his question, and he nods along. “You look exactly the same as when I was a kid.”

“Mingi, i’m…” you thought for a minute, thinking back to Verbena. Such a kind-hearted and honest witch. She’s raised Mingi all her life. You figured, you should trust him like how you did with his mother. “I’m Celeste.”

His reaction was calmer than what you had anticipated, he’d reveal just why quite soon. “So, that’s why you look like the portrait of Celeste in mom’s room.” he looks right into your eyes. “Why weren’t you with the other Keepers?”

“My magic is long gone, Mingi. Leaving the life of a Keeper means leaving the power granted to you too. I’m as equipped as any witch out there.” he nods at your words. You pick up the diamond shard on your workbench, holding it up for him to see. “This is the missing piece —of the White Diamond.”

He stared wide-eyed at the shard, taking in the way it shone softly in your fingers. “I— it’s real?”

“And the folktale about the mystic society being born out of the White Diamond is real, it’s our story.”

He stood up from his seat, still inspecting the shining diamond. “And it is you, Celeste, who shattered the diamond?” you breathed in, getting yourself seated at the edge of your bed. “When I was a kid, my mom would always tell me that Celeste had such a warm heart, and that she loved the mortals —you were all those things in our town’s folktales.”

You look away for a brief moment, wearing a soft smile as you reminisce about the kind of boy Mingi was. He shouldn’t be that different as a man —you think to yourself before bringing your gaze back to him. “Yes. I was all that —I believed all life on Earth deserved to be blessed with magic. Magic —it allows for one to truly understand the nature of the world.”

The corners of Mingi’s lips would rise. Then, he slid his hand beneath his suit at the area of his chest. He pulled out a red stone that hung from his neck, an amulet —and a familiar one at that. “My mom told me that my dad left this for her when he died but, I still don’t know what its purpose is.” his hands moved the back of his neck, reaching for the lock of the necklace.

He struggled for a while, and so you stood up and walked over behind him. He was startled to a fleet, but once he felt your hands undoing his necklace, he eased himself. You remove it from his neck once the lock is undone. You brought it closer to your vision, its back resting on your palm as your thumb brushed over the stone. It shone brighter as your skin glided on its surface, like the shard, only that this stone is red and slightly orange in the core. From the way it behaved in your hand, you could tell the stone was not in its purest form and was manipulated by sorcery, a spell of some kind.

“And your mother never mentioned anything else about it?” the stone remained in your hand, twinkling and glowing with every swipe.

“She said it’s for our protection. From Belial.”

“I see. It’s blessed with a spirit ward.”

The necklace would revert around Mingi’s neck, along with the warmth of your hand that sent currents throughout his body. He spent his whole life fantasizing about the tale of the Keeper, picturing himself as a Keeper, protecting and creating life, serving the people for the greater good. He was raised by a witch that honored the Keepers with her whole life, having been a close ally to one. Verbena was a witch rescued from Belial’s minions by Keeper Zephyr, and would serve great help with protecting the wizards and witches by keeping them in refuge. Mingi was born after the war with Belial, and it was also when you gave up being a Keeper. Verbena owed you her life, because it was from you that she learned how to brew potions of any nature, use any spells with ease, create talismans, and most of all, you entrusted her with your manor —and what used to be the Keepers’ headquarters. Ever since the war with Belial, the Keepers had agreed to guard the different bodies of the world. The oceans, the sky, the animals and the plants, and the people. Since then, the manor was unoccupied, and there would be no other wizard or witch worthy of your credence but Verbena. Mingi has heard all the great things about you, feeling almost as if he was undeserving to be in your premises, let alone your presence. His eyes never leave you as you move from behind him, back to where you sat.

“When I found the White Diamond, it came with… a prophecy.” you avert your eyes from his, setting your gaze on the tiny slit of your window that displayed half of the moon. “It was about Ahriman, though we'd never known it back then. But it also told me that there would be a hero to come.” you look back at him, right into his silver irises.

Mingi whose young eyes you’ve met, and now he’s returned to seek for you, wearing clothes that made him one with the night —he wore the darkness. And maybe, his heart truly is the yielder of the White Diamond.

“What’s taking him so long?” he questioned, like how he would when you could still lay a hand on top of his head.

You laughed. He would turn out to be a bit bewildered, but he’d smile, huffing out once but never laughing wholly. “Maybe he’s already here.” you chuckled when he shrugged, finding his actions adorable. “Then, Mingi, you must assist me. Your dreams brought you here for a reason.”

“Right, sorceress. I will do as I am told.”

You walked back to your workbench, urging him to come along with the tilt of your head. He towered over your figure, looking down at the variety of articles, looking down at you. Then, you were the one who had to kneel to meet his eyes, but now your head leaned backwards, looking up at him as you shared your plans. You would share your failures as well, and the hurdle of being unable to restore your powers, not knowing how it was even possible.

“Perhaps an incantation or spell would work?” Mingi’s overt suggestion only evoked a sigh from you.

“Believe me, I’ve tried everything. I won’t be able to regain my magic without any of the other Keepers. But we won’t be able to escape and meet any Keepers without that magic either.”

“Let’s visit the well. Maybe I might be able to help.”

“Really?”

“Really, sorceress. I wish for you to allow me to at least try. I promise none of us will get hurt.”

You spent the night with him, preparing for your little endeavor. You remember spending a whole night’s sleep by the well, crying to the Gods. It mustn’t be that difficult, yet you had no idea of how you’d be able to return to your Keeper-self. It only added to the weight of your sorrows, already a heavy load from the destruction of the mystic society and the loss of thousands of wizards and witches. When the people need you the most is when you’re unable to grant the aegis you had promised them.

The sun had just woken up when you and Mingi had set out to head to the Keeper’s well. You were both equipped with just enough in case of a mishap —bringing the shard along with you. You took the liberty of exiting from the back of your shop that led to a deserted alleyway. There were still a few eyes roaming around the area, but not very threatful ones. Reaching a more populous area, you stick close to Mingi, your hand holding on to the sleeve of his coat.

“Take my arm.” he says, and you would do just that, entangling your arm around his.

At a sudden instance, an Ahriman soldier catches your attention from the corner of your eye. If you weren’t so vigilant, you wouldn’t have caught up on the way he looked at the pair of you.

“Ahriman’s soldiers roam this area. You really should’ve left the coat.” you whisper to your company.

And he whispers back, “Oh, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s my trademark.”

“Tradema—” your query was cut off by a loud and excruciating bang, and a small fire building up at the little shack you and Mingi stood by.

“Sorceress, this is where we run.” he takes your hand in his, pulling you along with him, but you would only reach a meter before one of the soldiers came lunging at you.

Mingi was quick to react, drawing his blade from its sheath. His forearm catches the man by his chest, his blade moving to a speed the mortal eyes could never follow. A heap of blood escapes the soldier’s mouth as Mingi penetrates his abdomen. Another soldier came to strike, but this time you took care of it, ducking and booting his calf making him lay flat on his back on the ground. That’s when you whipped out your wand, casting a spell on him that made his mouth foam. Three other men would come running your way, and Mingi would rush in front of you to shield you from them. He takes one man by the arm, and it fascinated you. The man’s arm was out of reach, but it would seem as though a mass of wind blew the man to Mingi’s reach. And he was moving at a speed of no wizard. He kills off three men with little trouble, and when he turns to you, you have your eyes laid on him whilst also having a man's throat in your hand and you’d strike the man with the same spell you used earlier.

“Let’s take a run, shall we?”

“After you, sorceress.”

Just before the other soldiers came, you two had already disappeared from the site, running off to the mystic woodlands. Reaching the Keeper’s well meant following a maze-like path, or else, you won’t be able to go through the barrier that conceals it. It was an enchantment of protection by Keeper Fauna.

“That’s awesome.” was all that Mingi could utter once explaining to him how to get to the well.

You had the map in your hands. Yunho had marked the pathway you were to take, a thought for a thought, he knew you’d need it eventually, but he only took that extra step because you’re his favorite Keeper.

“You have to stick close, we can’t stray away from this path, not even a single step.”

“And the animals?”

“You won’t have to worry.” your eyes find his own, looking up at him the same way you did back in your room. “They know how to sort rotten souls from good ones.”

Mingi nods, taking a breath of the heated air. He takes off his coat, feeling the warm morning all over his body as sweat builds up all over him. A Keeper’s eyes are reserved —you repeat to yourself, but you’d be watching him through your peripheral as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the clean side of his coat’s sleeve, then he removed his gloves, wiping his palm and the back of his hand on the sleeve.

“Won’t you remove your cloak? it’s getting real hot.”

You profusely shake your head, “I’ll be fine.”

He gives you a small smile for a brief moment before his eyes leave you. He started wiping the sweat on his neck, throwing his head back to wipe thoroughly. You felt a little silly just standing there, so you went and got yourself seated on an outcrop —a large rock. You could feel his eyes pinned on your figure as you moved yourself. Your back was facing him, allowing for you to have room to finally realize how hot it actually was. So with a sigh, you unfasten your cloak, allowing for it to fall down, leveled with your waist. The fabric hung onto the back of your elbow, your collar bone and bare arms now exposed. From the back, Mingi could only stare. Your top was cropped just above your waist, and the rest was covered with black, translucent silk, but maybe too translucent. You feel Mingi’s presence next to you. He sat in the opposite direction, but was right next to you. His bottom was aligned with where your knees rest, so he could see all of you, now from the front. You tilt your head at him, and he’d do the same, raising his brows. You shake your head, suppressing a giggle. Somehow, he captures your eyes. The silver shine in them was pure allure to you. It was like refined dark magic, lulling you, putting your surroundings to a stop, yet it was so beautiful. You feel a soft breeze against your face, softly drawing your hair back. You shy away from his gaze because of the sudden motion of nature. When you look back at him, your smile drops.

“Mingi…” his irises glowed a different color, and it went back to silver when the breeze had gone away. “You are not a mortal, are you?”

With a slight shrug, he tells you, “I’m not sure honestly. I know I have abilities mortals normally wouldn’t have, but I only know my mother. I have no idea where my powers hail from —quite possibly from my father, but I don't know him either.”

He shoves his folded gloves on to his pocket, and you’d see a few scars all over his hand, some worse than others.

“How about you, Keeper Celeste?” you blink once, you were never used to being called that name. You’ve been Y/n for so many years. You hum back to him to question what he was asking you for, so he’d add, “Where the Keepers from?”

You wore a bitter smile, eyes wandering on the grimy ground. “I know the folktales told people that we fell from the sky, and it’s true —in some way. We were created by the Gods. They were giants that lived in the heavens. The Keepers were molded by… they never told us what, but that was how we were made. We were sent down when we were a decade old, to protect Earth.” you could feel the tears from the back of your eyes, so you’d close them for a brief moment. “We were children. I was a child too before I was a woman. But I never knew what being a child meant. Even if we were small, we were at our most powerful state of being. Our powers were fresh, and so were our minds. Nothing could manipulate us because our faith was with the Gods. That was until we lived a century. We realized that the Gods are sloth personified. They create beings to do everything for them, and they would do it just so they wouldn’t get blamed when the world turns to ash. They live through the faith of people. Once people stopped believing in them, they’d shrink into useless mortals. They’re just as selfish as demons.”

Mingi kept himself quiet, basking in the way your voice harmonized with the sounds of the woodlands. His eyes urged you to keep talking as they softened.

“That’s why I chose to live within the mortals and gave up being a Keeper. There was no way for me to die —other than cutting through my throat or stabbing into my heart— but I could give up the power. So I did that. My immortality is my curse, and I coped with baking, you know the rest of the story.”

“You’re a great baker.”

“I know. You loved my sweets.”

“Believe me, I still do.”

You laughed amongst yourselves, thinking back to the good old times. No war, no extreme offenses, no conflicts. Just a life of bliss and magic. “I didn’t miss being a Keeper, well, not until now.” Mingi had his bottom lip in between his teeth, marveling at your features.

“Sorry, but, I can’t help but ask —how old are you?” you chuckle softly at his query.

“Almost ten thousand years. I stopped counting when I hit six thousand. It’s too many numbers.” a laugh went past your lips seeing his mouth agape at the revelation.

“And I look older than you?” his little quip only had you dispensing another guffaw.

Getting yourself composed, you reply to him, “Well, if I counted correctly, you’re about the age of thirty, am I right?”

“Spot on.”

“You look twenty-one and thirty at the same time.”

“Hearing that from you, I'm thinking maybe I might actually be immortal.”

He looked up to the sky, once again exposing the skin of his neck. The closeness allowed for you to see how spotless his skin was despite being a kind of vigilante, which proved to be a lot of work. He seemed to already be known to Ahriman and his soldiers, claiming his black coat is his trademark. “We can’t say for sure. You must last a century before claiming yourself immortal.”

“I will last a century. I promised my mom I will protect—” he stops himself, huffing briefly before he speaks again. “—the Keepers.”

“You did?” he nods at your little question. “You were such an ambitious child.”

“Still am.”

“Ambitious, or a child?”

“Can it be both?” his shoulders rose to a shrug, making you titter for the nth time.

You were soon headed to the well, wasting no time to stop for anything. This path was truly one for wonders as it concealed the both of you from the rest of the world, all except the creatures of the mystic woodlands. Mingi kept himself close by walking right behind you, though he thought it would be better if he was beside you instead —he just couldn’t risk it. Soon, his hand would find itself on your shoulder as you walked through the trees, tracing each of your steps with his own. It was quite the trek but relief would wash away your exhaustion once you spotted a tiny cluster of wisps. They ward off any uninvited guests, and Mingi —despite looking intimidating— was welcomed by the gentle spirits.

“Wisps?” his low voice chuckled against the little kisses the wisps gave him.

“They’re very dear.” you mumble as more wisps came to you, playing with your hair and placing soft touches on your cheeks.

Mingi’s eyes glistened with the glow of the wisps, and he watched as one hovered on your palm. You bring it close to your face, eventually giving it a sweet kiss.

“I wish I was a wisp.” you hum in question of his utterance.

“Wisps are spirits that were taken for granted. Powerful, but was subjected to the consequences of life, suffering death before their spirits were able to spread love and wisdom in the world. They’re nice, but I'm pretty sure they’d prefer to be like us, you know, living.” he understood pretty easily, a little disappointed, but quite amused that you didn’t get the hint with what he said. “I love them.”

You relaxed the muscles of your hand, raising it up a tad and letting the wisp fly off to its friends. Ahead of you, finally, is the Keeper’s well. Your curiosity was at its peak when you remembered Mingi said he wanted to help, to try at least.

You walk over to the well, your hope dwindling with every step. The wisps had consoled you through all instances of you breaking down over numerous feeble attempts of procuring your magic. This time you hoped, that the presence of Mingi would change the course of this venture you’ve gone on for decades now with no success.

Once your toes were only an inch away from the well’s body, you stopped, looking into the well, it was a ritual for you. Maybe your powers would peek back at you.

“Are you alright?” Mingi’s voice sounded of worry, now with both hands resting on your shoulders.

You breath in the cool air of your surroundings, magic dust floating away from within the well with a soft inviting glow. “Lead the way, Mingi.”

You saw the movement in his throat as he gulped, making his way around the well and standing across from where you had anchored yourself. His blade leaves its sheath again. Your eyes were glued onto the alloy that shimmered with the illumination emitted by the wisps and the well itself. He holds it over the opening of the well, and his amulet —it hangs onto the quillon of the blade. “I wanted to test out something I’ve read out of the books, or maybe, this is just some stupid idea I came up with.” he mumbles the last part, but you were able to read his lips. Still, you trusted him.

He closes his eyes, and he chants. From what you understood, it was an incantation, typically used in the area of fishery. Sounds odd for Mingi to be using such a spell, but you just stood there and allowed for him to work his magic.

His grip on the blade loosened, and by every finger he detached from the grip, the blade got heavier, and heavier, until it fell. You heard the strong gust of wind as it continued to fall.

“I wonder what the Gods are saying about this war.” it had been a while since the blade was dropped into the well.

Your anticipation had diminished completely. “Mingi, let’s just go.”

“I do hope they recognized the Keepers’ sacrifices.”

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. “Mingi, we have to go before we get ambushed—”

“But then again, the Gods are none of our concern—”

“Mingi!” there was a slight crack in your voice, speaking as you fought the urge to break down again. “We must leave this place, now.”

“But I'm not done yet, Celeste.”

“Do not call me by that name, Celeste will never come back.” the tears swelled in your eyes, and you’d swallow your misery to deter from crying. “It’s impossible, Mingi.” your firm voice softens to one that is gloomy and reflects your despair.

With every step Mingi took closer to you, you’d only come close to breaking into a weep completely. A tear would trickle down to your jaw when he takes hold of your hands and makes you turn to the side to face him. You lower your head as the tears pour themselves out of you, you were breathing with a stutter. Mingi’s hand that was further from the well moves from your hand to your shoulder. Soon, you were laying the side of your head on his chest, the hand on your shoulder shifting to the back of your head whilst the other was entwined with yours. You felt Mingi’s heart thumping loudly in his chest, then he takes a deep breath and releases your hands at the side where the well was next to you both. His free hand hovers over the well’s opening. He was chanting again, but it was one you could not recognize even if you were hearing it right in your ear. You move away from Mingi’s body, watching his eyes change color like before. From silver to gold. The golden shine of his eyes reminded you of a pair that was very dear to you.

“Zephyr…” you utter to yourself, but only you would be able to hear.

Mingi was fully focused on his work, and you would hear that strong gust of wind again, now growing louder instead of the other way. Mingi stops his incantation, and looks into your eyes.

“Say it with me, Díno tin písti mou stous anémous tis aioniótitas.”

Zephyr’s language. “Díno tin písti mou stous anémous tis aioniótitas.” and your faith was with Mingi.

“Catch the blade Y/n.”

You hear the wind yelling, and it was getting louder. With a foot on the rim of the well and a hand over the well’s mouth, you were able to grab the blade by its grip as it came flying out. Mingi’s amulet blazed an angry red, and so did the well. He led you back to him by grabbing ahold of your free hand. You still held the blade the same way you had caught it from the well.

“Now hold the stone. Chant it again and close your eyes.”

Mingi frees your other hand so you could touch the amulet. You enclosed it in a tight grasp as you closed your eyes, and with the wholeness of your soul, you chanted, “Díno tin písti mou stous anémous tis aioniótitas.”

You lose your breath for a moment as the stone sparked in your hand. A strong flash of light struck your vision. It was like the whole world went back to being a small ball of light within the emptiness of space. The Gods have created such a beautiful world, but it was all for show. They act with no care, the care they had was for their vanity only. Then you were back to the moment you were molded from fine clay and the flesh of man, back to the very moment your power was bestowed to you.

“You serve the good, and only the good, and you will work to neutralize the evils from the very depths of hell, and you are never to betray your fellow Keepers, you shall love, but never turn against each other.”

You look around, seeing the younger selves of the other Keepers. And then there was Zephyr whose eyes glimmered with the gold the Gods would flaunt to each other and their servants. He was far, yet his voice spoke to you, loud and clear. He tells you, “Guide my son Celeste. He is the true Keeper of the winds and time itself. Believe in him, Celeste.”

Everything disappears, turning into dust. Zephyr’s words echoed in your mind and the image of his eyes never left your head.

“Celeste…” it was clear to you now. “I’m here… can you hear me?” Zephyr fell in love with Verbena, and their love bore a child. Mingi truly is immortal.

“Y/n!” you woke up, gasping from the shock of being awoken from such a profound dream.

You’d be even more shocked to find yourself on the ground with Mingi, him holding you closely in his arms. Mingi sets his hand on your jaw to hold it, gently guiding your head towards him so he could see you. You were in your true form. Before him was an image, surreal and captivating, enchanting him with the way your skin warmed up his cold hands. The night was cold, but you were as warm as day. And you felt like you were reborn. You meet his eyes, and he sees the entirety of the universe in your gaze —the planets and constellations he only read about in books.

“You’re beyond the beauty the tales make you out to be.” you hear the utterance in his mind. He seemed to have forgotten that you could read minds. “I’m so lucky.” you chuckled at his buoyant thoughts that just kept running. You wanted to confirm Zephyr’s message, and so you’d dig deep into his psyche. His whole upbringing flowed throughout every facet of your memory. And it revealed more than what you had intended to know.

You still held the stone in your hand, and you and Mingi’s surprise, the stone was no longer red. It had turned colorless, much like the shard you had with you.

“Mingi, this amulet, it’s a piece of the diamond.” Mingi loosens his embrace, allowing for you to sit up.

“Yeah, I see.” you examine Mingi’s face. His brows were furrowed, indicating that he was utterly clueless.

“It’s Zephyr’s shard, Mingi.” he looks back at you, with not much change in his expression. You hold back a smile. You speak to him with your mind to tell him, “Keeper Zephyr is your father.” his eyes grew wide and his hand clenched the skin of your bare arm.

“Really?”

“Really! he told me himself, when I was in a trance earlier.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to get ahead of myself.” you communicated solely with the voice of your minds, then you would hear his velvet voice again, “I read about the Keepers all the time as a child, and even now. It stunned me how similar my powers are to Zephyr, but I thought maybe it was just a coincidence, and that there were others like me.”

Your hand finds its way on his cheek, your soft fingers gliding against his skin as your hand goes up to fix his hair. “There’s only one Keeper of the winds and time, Mingi.”

He wore the same expression of astonishment as before. “Me?”

“Yes, you’re a Keeper.”

“So I am immortal after all.” you hear his thoughts again, making you giggle.

“Yes Mingi, you’re immortal.”

He just stared at you, right into your eyes. For a short while, his thoughts were empty, just basking in your warmth and ethereal presence. You were a being of high power that everyone else believed were only true in folktales. But Mingi’s faith was with you from the beginning, and now your faith lies with him.

“Is it bad that I want to kiss you?” you flick your tongue over your top lip, a smile forming on your plush lips as you watch his eyes linger on them.

This was the moment you admit to having been enamored by him, right from the night you spent with him even if you had done nothing but administer your plan and prepare yourselves. His flawlessly structured face, his tall stature, his voice, his willingness to protect you —you had gone long without a lover, and maybe now’s the time.

“Kiss me.”

He was careful, and a lot gentler for the size of him. He was bewitched with the feeling of your lips against his. He kept repeating in his mind, “I hope this isn't a dream.” as he continued to kiss you, making you chuckle against his lips for a short while —a very short while as he chased the sensation of having his lips, and his tongue against yours.

“Mingi.” you spoke to him with your mind, not being able to escape the feeling he’s ensnared you in. “We have to get going.” he keeps going for a few more lengthy seconds. He pulled away, leaving the two of you hot-faced and panting. You were both still lost and enthralled in each other’s eyes, then you’d talk to him, this time, with your voice audible. “Seriously now, we must go.” your mellow voice made his eyelids drop once, and he’d plant another soft kiss on your lips before pulling the both of you off the ground.

“Can you stab me? just so I could be sure this isn't a dream or some sort of hallucination.” you titter at his words, the palm of your gentle hand playfully hitting his chest.

“It’s real!”

Suddenly, his hands were all up in your hair. “Look, your hair, it changed color.”

You watch with awe as he moves strands of your hair around. “It’s my true form, Mingi.”

“It’s a crazy form —driving me crazy, that is.”

After a shared guffaw, you were back on track. Now with your magic restored, it would be easier for you and Mingi to move onto the arduous steps of your journey. You had a long way ahead of you, and a new Keeper by your side. He wasn’t one that was molded by the Gods and put through rigorous training by being thrown into a dragon’s cage, but he was one with a pure heart, and it set him apart from the rest of the Keepers. He understood human nature to its core with the blood of a mortal coursing through him. And he wasn’t one to give up, because you found out that it took him thirteen years to configure his magic and be able to use it without losing control. And unlike Ahriman, he wasn’t a vengeful soul. He only wished that there’s a future for the mystic society, for the world. And he would keep saving it, just so the people of the future won’t suffer the same fate as him and many others, mortal and immortal alike.

“And he saved a Keeper’s soul…”

not proofread, not planning on doing so either so :D

#ateez #ateez au #ateez mingi #song mingi #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fic

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