#happy birthday bin i love you <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[theshower]

seungkwan’s ig story of the birthday cake for binnie literally put tears in my eyes i can’t do this today

[changbunnies]

Evermore (18+)

♡ Pairing: Beast!Changbin x fem!Reader

♡ Genre: beauty and the beast inspired fantasy au, monster/human relationship, some angst, fluff, eventual smut, mutual pining, slow burnish?

♡ Word Count: 15.1k

♡ Summary: Desperate to flee an arranged marriage, you take your chances fleeing into the woods. The home of countless myths and legends, many in your village believe the forest to be enchanted, with all manner of dangerous creatures lurking within. You never took stock in such tales, much less in that of the most feared of them all– “The Beast.” But when you are saved from a pack of wolves by The Beast himself, you quickly realize that there is more truth to the fables you grew up on than you ever believed. 

♡ Warnings: mention of an arranged marriage for reader, referenced misogyny, risk of death / near death experience, mild blood and injury, bin's appearance as the beast is based on minotaurs because i think it's sexy!, his height is never stated but i pictured him as ~10 feet tall while writing so :)

♡ Smut Warnings: monster fucking but make it Soft and Sweet,  size difference, size kink, bin is touch-starved and feral for reader (but feral in a way that is somehow still soft?), handjob, oral (m + f rec), cum eating

♡ Notes: happy very late birthday to my sweet binnie <3 i wanted to get this out on his birthday but my life has been a mess tbh lmao but i'm back now and here's to loving changbin with my whole heart <3

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

There were many things in your life you were willing to sacrifice for the sake of family.

Time, if they were in need or want of company. Money, whatever little you had, if they were in need of something they couldn't afford on their own. Your health, if they were sick and needed caring, even if giving them aid brought their illness upon you.

But the one thing you could not bring yourself to do was marry that terrible man.

They wanted you to marry a local hunter with some wealth, one who could provide for you and your family with his talents. He wasn't unpleasant to look at, and admittedly his wealth had appeal to families suffering from poverty, but you just couldn't get past his dreadful personality.

He was insufferably arrogant in his pride, and truly awful in his views towards women. He didn't want a wife– he wanted a maid; one he could lie with and have bear his children. His desire for such was clear every time you spoke with him.

You knew that he'd never see you as a partner, or an equal, or even love you. In his eyes, you were nary more than a pretty object for him to do with as he pleased. You didn't want that to be your life, refused to be a glorified servant to such a horrid person.

And so, in the dead of night on the eve of your wedding, you made your escape. Tiptoeing through your house as quietly and carefully as you could, you tucked away what little belongings you had and food your family could spare into a basket, and fled into the woods surrounding your village.

You veered off the beaten path, hoping that if you fled into the dense heart of the forest no one would risk trying to find you. Your village believed the woods to be inhabited by dangerous creatures– all manner of fae and magical beasts that would not hesitate to bring harm to lost humans.

All who left the village stuck strictly to the dirt paved roads, and even hunters didn't wander too far inside the woods. You didn't fear the creatures of fable, to be honest; you didn't even believe they existed. You were an avid reader, and enjoyed your share of fairy tales; you just found it hard to believe such creatures existed beyond the page.

It was risky and dangerous to flee into the woods at night, but not because of the stories of magic beasts and trickster fae; such things were the machinations of imaginative writers, and nothing more. Those who believed in them were simply overly superstitious, fearful of what could be instead of what is.

What you were scared of were the tangible, real threats that you knew very well existed. Wild animals, strange men, violent hunters– those were the things lurking in the woods that people should really be scared of; not silly stories of fairies who lure unsuspecting villagers deeper into the forest.

Regardless of what is real and what isn't, one thing is for certain– the forest is frightening to navigate at night. To ensure you remained undetected and hard to track, you forwent bringing a lantern with you, and having only the moonlight to guide you is both challenging and unnerving.

Even the smallest of noises puts you on edge, but you refuse to stop moving onward. You want to put as much distance between you and the village as you can before your family rises in the morning and notices you missing.

While you doubt many will be willing to follow your trail once they've put together that you've fled off the road and deep into the woods, you can't deny the possibility that someone may wish to try. Especially your arranged husband considering what a skilled hunter and tracker he is.

Still, you do need some rest– you've been walking through the densest parts of the forest for over an hour now, and you're more than a little tired; especially since you only got a few hours of sleep before setting off.

Just a short pause should be acceptable; you can rest against a tree, rummage through your basket for some of the food you tucked away to replenish your energy while giving your legs and feet the break they need.

It's nearly impossible to see inside your basket, so you simply feel for the food you want with your hand. It doesn't take you long to find the loaf of bread you packed inside, and you carefully tear off a piece to eat. You take a bite, and then another, but before you can take a third you hear a noise that makes you freeze.

The snapping of a branch, much louder than any previous forest sounds you heard, followed by a slight rustling of leaves. You look in the direction you heard the noise, met with the terrifying sight of a pair of glowing eyes looking straight at you.

Their low proximity to the ground tells you enough about the creature to make your blood run cold; and as it steps closer, and its silhouette becomes clearer, you realize what you thought was correct. It’s a wolf. And by the way it’s sizing you up, you can guess it’s hungry.

To make matters worse, it soon becomes clear it isn’t the only one as more glowing eyes emerge between the dark trees. You start running before you can even truly think, your body running purely on survival instinct, your basket dropped and forgotten behind you. The small amount of food inside is enough to draw the attention of some of them, but the rest ignore it to give chase.

You flee with all your strength, doing your best not to stumble and fall over protruding tree roots or your own feet. You keep your eyes forward as you do, worrying that looking over your shoulder to see the wolves close behind will only worsen your efforts to get away. 

Your lungs ache, your feet hurt, your dress torn in multiple places from snagging on branches– but still, you can’t stop running. The wolves are faster than you, they’ll catch you eventually, you know it; but the desperation and adrenaline coursing through your veins keeps you going beyond your limits. 

Your legs will give out before long, you'll falter and lose speed, it's inevitable; but you will yourself to keep going for as long as you can despite it. Realistically, your only hope for survival is the wolves losing interest before you grow too tired to continue. But is that even a possibility?

Maybe you should climb a tree? Can wolves climb? No, more importantly, can you? It’s over for you if you misstep or lose your strength during the climb up– falling would assuredly be the end of you. 

Still, maybe it’s worth the risk. You can’t run forever, and it’s unlikely the wolves will give up the chase– better to try and fail than to not try at all, right? If you are to face death tonight, you wish to do so knowing that you tried everything you possibly could to escape it.

You scan your surroundings the best you can whilst running, looking for a tree with a branch low enough to the ground for you to feasibly reach and start your climb. It's a difficult task, the images before you as you run a dark blur; but eventually, you spot a branch you think will be suitable enough.

As you turn your body to reach out for it, one of the wolves lunges towards you, salivating jaws snapping at you. The wolf narrowly misses, instead biting through your dress and tearing a significant chunk of the fabric off, exposing your leg up to your thigh.

You let out an involuntary shriek at the sound of the fabric ripping in the wolf’s jaws, the knowledge that it easily could’ve been your leg chilling you to the bone. You’re terrified, but you can’t let yourself freeze up– it missed, and now is your best chance to get up the tree before it can try to bite you again, or the other wolves catch up with you.

You grab the branch, placing your foot on the trunk of the tree as you ready yourself to pull up your weight, but as you do you’re met with a sound that sinks your heart to the very pit of your stomach. The branch isn’t as sturdy as you hoped; it creaks and splinters as you pull, and it quickly becomes clear that should you attempt to pull your entire weight up with it, it will snap entirely.

So this is it, you think as you turn around to meet the gaze of the snarling wolf. You take a small step back, and then another, until your back is against the tree you hoped to climb. More wolves soon approach, and you know you’re cornered now. There’s nowhere else for you to go, nothing else you can think to try; your fate is sealed.

You try to make peace with it in these last moments you have; this isn’t how you imagined your life would someday end, but you knew the risks when it came to entering the woods. While you hoped differently, this was always a possibility. You were desperate, and you made your choice; and though the outcome is unfortunate, you don’t want to regret making the decision that brought you here.

As the wolves begin to fully encircle you, there is a loud thump in the distance that draws their attention away from you. The sound rings out again, and then again, and as it draws closer, you realize the ground is shaking, a cacophony of twigs and dried leaves snapping with each thump. Certainly you’re mistaken, but it sounds reminiscent of walking..

That’s impossible, isn’t it? The creature in question would have to be massive to cause the earth to shake around you this much, and to snap so many branches with each step. That simply can’t be reality– there’s no way something that big lives in the forest; giants and the like are nothing but fairy tales!

Still, the thumps continue to grow louder as whatever is causing the sounds draw closer, and you’re certain that if you weren’t already against a tree, you would’ve fallen over from how intensely the ground shakes. Some wolves whimper and flee with their tails between their legs, while the more ferocious of the pack stand their ground against whatever it is that approaches.

Its shadowy silhouette soon becomes visible through the trees, the forest floor shaking violently as it comes more clearly into view. You can’t tell what it is, but it's big– impossibly so. It’s too dark to make out features, and its height obscures the moonlight that was previously shining on you. The only thing you can make out through the shadow is.. Horns?

Unconsciously, you suck in a breath; it’s The Beast, you realize as it takes another hulking step towards you and the ravenous wolves. Half man, half monster, violent and aggressive, with an appetite for any foolish enough to wander into its territory. With horns and hooves, it easily towers over even the tallest of human men.

He’s the creature those living in your village fear the most, the subject of many cautionary tales told to children, the conjurer of countless hunter's nightmares. You never believed it– and it is only now that you think maybe you should’ve. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have been so reckless in your escape from home.

You wonder which fate is worse; to be eaten by wolves, or eaten by The Beast. You wish you could run while the wolves are distracted, but your legs are frozen; whether from exhaustion or terror, you aren’t sure. Regardless, you stand there trembling and helpless, watching as it easily shoves the wolves aside.

They bite and scratch at The Beast, but it makes no discernable sound of pain. Seemingly unphased, it (or he?) reaches out for you, lifting you from the ground with ease, as if you weigh little more than a feather. You sob as it does, squeezing your eyes shut as you anticipate the pain to follow.

But the pain never comes. Slowly, you open one eye to peek at The Beast; it isn’t looking at you, but simply straight ahead as it resumes walking. He continues to shove off the wolves that attack, and as the animals realize it is futile to stop or slow him, they slowly but surely give up and retreat back to whence they came.

He must’ve made a turn before you opened your eyes, because the moon is no longer obscured by his size, and now illuminates the creature’s face clearly. His face is mostly that of a man’s, with the exception of his nose. 

His nose is a rich brown bespeckled in pink, you can just barely tell, and its shape reminds you of the cattle that farmers own back in your village. You notice that his ears are bovine too, and fluffy in appearance. Brown in color, you think, or maybe black; it’s too dark to tell for certain.

The Beast looks down at you as if it can feel you observing him, and when he does, you can feel his breath envelop your body. Its smell is.. pleasant? Surprisingly so; like mixed berries, with a hint of tea leaves.

You expected something worse, given the tales; shouldn’t he smell like blood, or flesh? Even when his breath leaves you, you don’t detect anything remotely foul coming from him. In fact, his body smells unexpectedly clean.

“Safe now,” The Beast speaks, and you blink in surprise. You hadn’t expected him to be capable of speech, though you suppose it makes sense if he’s half man. It sounds like he’s trying to whisper, but his voice still comes out quite loud regardless; consequence of his size, you imagine. 

But wait– does he mean you? You’re safe now? It occurs to you then that he’s holding you gently in his large arms. He isn’t squeezing you, constricting your movement, or trying to hurt you in any way; he’s simply carrying you. But to where? Though you’re apparently safe, there’s still a part of you that fears you won’t be for long.

It’s likely that as a half man he has some measure of human intelligence, and it’s very possible this apparent kindness is part of a ploy to make eating you easier. Get you to his den, build trust with you so you don’t run, all so he can relish in devouring you later.

Regardless, you’re too exhausted to do anything right now. Fatigue has settled in you now that the adrenaline has run its course through your body. You wouldn’t be able to run in this state, nor be able to fight him off– not that you think you could anyways, but especially not like this. 

Your body falls limp, your eyes heavy, weary. As you close them, all you can do is hope that The Beast doesn’t toy with you in the end. If you wake before he decides to eat you, your wish is that he makes your death swift and painless. That’s all you can ask for as you lose consciousness.

When you blink awake, the first thing you register is that you’re in a bed– a large one at that. It’s comfortable, plush, and warm, if not a tad dusty. The blanket that covers you too is warm, and you realize as you continue to blink away the grogginess that you’re staring up at a darkly colored canopy– a deep purple.

Turning your head to the left, you see stained glass windows with a design of red roses filtering in small amounts of sunlight through worn, tattered drapes. On the right side lies the door to the room you’re in, wooden and carved with a motif of roses identical in design to the one on the windows.

How did you get here? You stare back up at the canopy, trying to recall what happened last night. You were walking for what felt like ages, you got tired and stopped to eat.. Wolves found you, you were running, and then.. The Beast! 

You sit up quickly as the memory hits you, and take a panicked look around the room. He isn’t here, you realize after a moment, and your brows furrow in confusion. Did someone else stumble upon you and save you from The Beast? That must be it– there’s no way the dreaded beast of the forest brought you here.

The entire room is covered in a thin layer of dust, though it’s clear that someone made an effort to clean it recently. For your sake, you wonder? Removing the blanket and looking down, you can see you’re still in your torn clothes from the night before. You rise from the bed carefully, your legs still aching from the events prior to waking up here, and take another, more in depth look around the room you’re in.

It’s a rather empty room, with just a few pieces of furniture strewn about, and a fireplace sitting in the center of the wall opposite the bed you were sleeping in. In one of the corners of the room sits a large wardrobe, and next to it a chair with a dress laid atop it that you assume has been placed there for you to change into. 

You walk over to the chair and take the dress into your hands, and it does seem like it’ll fit well enough when you hold it up to your body. It feels to be made of silk, and while not necessarily lavish, it is much fancier than any of the dresses you could get back home.

You consider for a moment if it’s really okay to change into, but ultimately conclude that it was laid out with a purpose, and you should accept the kindness. Besides, you don’t think remaining in your now tattered dress would do you any good.

You change quickly despite the ache remaining in your limbs, and unsure of what exactly to do with your old clothes, you opt for placing them on the same chair you grabbed the new dress from. Afterwards, you step to the rose-carved door, and slowly pull it open to peek out.

You’re not sure if leaving the room is a good idea, but there’s no one in the hall to instruct you otherwise, and you’re admittedly starving. You hope you can find a kitchen, or the person who kindly saved you so you can thank them and ask them for a meal.

The door opens to a long hallway, lined with lattice windows and rusty knight statues. Wall sconces take up the spaces between the windows, though many are missing the candles meant to reside in them. 

Artwork lines the opposite wall, decorating the spaces between what you assume to be other bedroom doors. Some are askew and others perfectly straight, but all are old and worn. Landscapes, still life, portraits– regardless of type, the paint on each and every one has dulled and chipped, with a layer of dust atop them.

Continuing down the hall past the several closed doors, you come to a set of stairs leading down. Following it down leads to another long hall, though this one is quite different. Multiple chandeliers hang from the ceiling, evenly spaced apart in a line. There are vases and statues of various types; human, gargoyle, angel– some few perfectly intact, but many broken in some way, often missing entire limbs.

There are no windows, and the walls are not painted like in the previous hall, but appear to be carved of stone, with each vase and statue nestled between expertly carved columns. There are only two doors in this hall– one in the center of each wall. Both doors are locked when you try them, and so you move on down the hall, eventually finding yet another set of stairs leading down. 

They bring you to what appears to be a grand entryway. Across from you is an identical set of stairs leading to what is likely a similarly structured wing of the castle you appear to be in. To the left, between both sets of stairs, is a large door that nearly touches the ceiling, and to the right a large open hall with what you think are the doors leading outside at the very end of it.

Simply leaving would be tempting if you weren’t in dire need of a meal, or entirely unsure of where exactly you are. You can tell the castle you’re in is quite old given the state of things, but you can’t think of any such old, worn down castles you’ve heard tale of. All the castles you know of are well occupied by royalty; none, as far as you’re aware, have been left to fall to dust and ruin like this.  

It’s terribly confusing, and if you don’t find a kitchen soon, you at least hope you’ll find someone kind and willing to provide you answers. Forgoing the large door that you’re pretty sure leads to a ballroom, as well as the opposite staircase you’re confident will lead to a hall identical to the one you were just in, you step right, to the entry hall.

There are a few doors on each side, and to your relief, one of them is labeled “Dining Hall.” A dining hall has to lead to a kitchen! Eagerly, you pull open the door, and as you do, you gasp when you realize The Beast himself is standing next to the dining table.

He’s looking straight at you, ears flickering in response to the sound of your gasp. You can’t help but freeze, having convinced yourself that it was impossible for him to be here, for him to have been the one to bring you here. You’re too stunned to move– everything in you was expended when fleeing the wolves, and now all you can do is stand before him.

You can see him much better now than you could last night, his every feature clearly defined by the sunlight filtering in through the dining hall’s large windows. His hair is curlier than you realized, and deeply brown, as are his bovine ears. His cheeks are round, his lips pouty and entirely human in shape.

You can also now see clearly just how broad he is– and strong. His torso, while decidedly man, is still much larger than a regular man’s could ever be. His pecs and arms are muscular and well defined, while his stomach appears to be soft, and maybe a little squishy, with a dark patch of fur trailing down beneath his belly button. 

He is in no way similar to a man beneath that point. The Beast has the legs reminiscent of a bull, every inch covered in thick, dark fur down to his hooves. His legs are much thicker than any you’ve ever seen, human or otherwise; you can only conclude this is because he is as strong in his legs as he is in his arms.

Lastly, is a tail swishing leisurely from side to side behind him. You can just barely see it when he’s facing you, but the glimpses you get of it further reminds you of cattle. Long and thin, with a large amount of fur at the tip of it. Part of you wonders if his fur is as soft as it looks– you didn’t feel it last night to know.

Parts of his arms are messily bandaged, bits of red tainting the otherwise white fabric– blood, you conclude, from when the wolves attacked him. He’s wearing a cape, the same shade of deep purple as the canopy that hung over the bed you woke up in, clasped around his collar bone with a golden buckle. The buckle, similar to the doors and some of the stained glass windows, is beholden with the image of a rose. 

It feels wrong to think so, but he’s attractive– were he a purely human man, you’re certain many village girls would swoon for him.

“You’re awake,” he smiles for a moment, clearly human teeth showing for a split second before he stops and timidly breaks direct eye contact. “I wanted to help with torn dress but couldn’t. Hands too big,” he continues, showing his hands to you to further prove his point– not that you need him to. 

“I picked a new one for you instead, glad you found it. Glad you’re wearing it,” he says, and you’re still too surprised to even speak in turn. “Looks.. Nice?” he says with an unsure tilt of the head. It seems as if he wants to compliment you, but is unsure in his word choice. He looks contemplative for a moment, as if mulling over if there’s a better word he could’ve used. 

You get the impression he isn’t used to interacting with humans. You yourself aren’t used to interacting with beasts.

“I wanted to bring you food. You must be hungry! But I don’t know everything humans like to eat..” he muses as he turns his attention back to the dining table, where you now realize an abundance of food is laid out. Nice food. 

Fruit platters, veggie trays, fine meats.. He has it all. If you weren’t already in awe of The Beast, this alone would floor you, because all this food would cost a fortune in your village unless you grew it and hunted for it yourself.

“This is for me..?” you finally find your voice and manage to ask. He nods and waves his hand, beckoning you to approach the table. Cautiously, you do, still in awe of it all.

Tentatively, you stand next to him before the dining room table, taking a nervous glance up towards him. You knew very well he was big and tall, but your difference in height is positively dizzying up close.

Your own stature barely even exceeds past his waist; if you were to look at him straight on, your eyes would be level with his belly button. His hands are bigger than your head, his legs thicker than your entire body. It’s as amazing as it is frightening– how can a creature this big even exist? You swallow, trying not to think about his size as you turn your attention back to the food.

“How did you get all this?” you manage to ask him; you can’t imagine someone as huge as him going out to collect fruits and vegetables– you imagine he’s much too big to be able to do so without struggling.

“I trade with friends of the forest. Little winged ones love shiny, sparkly things. They give me food in exchange,” he answers as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Well, for him, it is normal. But you can’t imagine this big, burly man-beast trading with fairies. You’re hardly even ready to accept he’s real, much less that fairies are!

It’s all too much to wrap your head around. Maybe you should just eat– maybe everything will start to make more sense once your stomach is full. You hope.

You find a bare plate on the table, and pick it up to start loading food onto. The Beast watches you, seemingly happy that you’re choosing to eat the food he has out on the table. Once satisfied, you take a seat, giving him one last cursory glance before focusing on the meal in front of you.

“Aren’t you going to eat too? This is a lot of food,” you inquire as you start to nibble on the fruit you picked out. “Wanted to make sure you got enough,” he replies, "You had a bad night, used a lot of energy. Need to have enough food to recover."

You can’t believe how seemingly nice, considerate, and intelligent The Beast is. Not only is he real, but he seems to be genuinely kind and caring. The stories paint him as violent, ferocious, ravenously blood-thirsty.. But the creature in front of you seems so far removed from those things.

“What’s your name?” you ask him, and he seems surprised for a moment. He must not have been expecting you to ask. “Little winged ones call me Changbin,” he answers. You repeat it back to him, and he smiles just a little as he nods his head. “Your name?” he asks after, and he repeats it to himself after you offer it, just the same as you did with his.

“Do you live here?” is your next question, and he nods once more. “Alone?” you follow up, and again he nods. It’s clear that Changbin isn’t the castle's original inhabitant, and you wonder how long it lay abandoned before he claimed it as his home.

Of course, he could’ve killed the owners to take it, but the more you speak with him, you simply can’t imagine him being so cold blooded. He seems too… sweet.

A more pressing question– where are you exactly? You’re certain you’re still within the bounds of the forest, as you saw nothing but trees every time you looked out a window. But if that’s the case, how has an entire castle gone unnoticed? Castles aren’t exactly small– surely you and the other villagers would’ve seen it poking through the top of the trees.

Was it the magic that people believed the forest to hold that left it obscured? Or was it so deep in the forest, with the trees that surround it so tall and dense that even spying it from a distance was impossible? No matter the truth, the simple fact remains that there is much more to the forest than you ever thought, and it’s a lot to digest all at once.

“Why did you save me?” you decide to ask him instead of trying to unravel the mysteries and secrets of the forest. “You needed help,” he answers easily, “humans fear me, but I always try to help.” 

It’s easy to imagine his words true. A human like you, perhaps a hunter accidentally straying too far into the forest. They find themselves lost, hurt, or in trouble, and Changbin finds them.

He tries to help, but in their terror, they flee further into danger, get themselves more lost, strain an already injured leg.. And the ones who make it back tell a terrifying tale of The Beast in the forest who wished to devour them when all he actually wanted to do was help them. It’s a bit sad to consider in all honesty. 

“When you're feeling better, do you want to go back home?” he asks once you’ve finished your meal, and it takes you by surprise. “I’d help you. Take you as far as I could. Help you find path."

He’d really help you get home..? Just like that? You begin to feel bad that even after he rescued you, gave you a warm place to sleep, a new change of clothes and a meal, there was still a part deep inside you that feared what his intentions with you could be.

“No,” you answer after a moment, “I was in the forest trying to get away from home. My life there.. It wouldn’t be good if I went back.” 

“Then.. you stay? I’ll help you. Protect you,” Changbin offers, a faint smile appearing on his lips when you nod.

“I’ll stay,” you affirm. It’ll be strange at first, you’re sure, living in a castle in the middle of the apparently enchanted woods with The Beast your village fears so much. But you’d rather live here, with a physical beast, rather than back home, with the metaphorical one you’d be forced to call “husband.”

Living with The Beast, Changbin, is surprisingly pleasant. It was easier than you expected it to be; almost natural.

On your first official night in the abandoned castle he made his home, he gave you a tour. What was intended to be a tour of strictly the important rooms you’d be expected to frequent turned into a several hour long walkthrough of the entire estate. He took you through the kitchen, the bathrooms, the study, the drawing room, the library, the watchtower– everything.

You could tell which rooms he frequented most by how dusty they were. If there was very little dust, you concluded that he was there often. If there was a large accumulation of it, he stayed out of it.

The watchtower was one of the rooms he liked to be in the most, often finding himself surveying the forest from it. That's how he saw you fleeing the wolves– and the moment he did, he descended the tower in a rush, hoping to get to you before any harm would befall you.

Additionally, you learned that his bedroom is in the opposite wing of yours. Changbin said he purposely chose the room furthest from his own to put you in because he thought you’d be more comfortable that way if you chose to stay for a while. He’s used to humans fearing him, and he wanted to give you whatever distance you’d need to feel safe during your time here.

Truthfully, you stopped being scared of him very quickly. If there was anyone the term “gentle giant” suited, it was assuredly Changbin. He always stepped through the castle carefully, doing his best not to shake the ground too hard and risk shattering glass or knocking over vulnerable statues and vases. 

He knew his voice was booming, so he always tried to speak softly. It was still loud, of course, but you knew it could be much louder if he allowed himself to project it fully. When he handled porcelain or other breakables, he would move his hands so slowly and carefully that you’d think he was holding a newborn baby.

Changbin would often stare at you quietly when you were in the same room, assumedly out of curiosity. He’d never gotten the chance to share a space with a human, or to observe them up close for such great lengths of time; it made you wonder what he must think of you. 

You wondered if there was anything he assumed a human would be that didn’t prove true, similar to how wrong you were about him. You always noticed his staring, and oftentimes when you decided to return his gaze, he’d quickly turn away.

Did he have the gut human instinct to look away when eye contact becomes too intense or prolonged? Was he simply shy? Both?

Sometimes he would smile before he looked away, the faintest peek of a dimple showing on his cheek before darting his eyes elsewhere. Sometimes his cheeks would dust over a soft pink, and other times, on the rare moments he let himself smile more fully, the bridge of his nose would scrunch up similarly to a humans.

Was it strange to say you found such moments cute? He was oddly endearing in the way he went about life, in his mannerisms and complexities. And admittedly, you’d stare at him the same way he stared at you when his attention was elsewhere.

At first, you justified it to yourself by saying you couldn’t help it– you discovered a magical creature that you always thought was nothing more than a story is real. How could you not stare at him? But lately, you weren’t so sure that’s all there was to it.

Changbin was many things outside of being The Beast. He was warm, soft, and sincere. Caring, considerate, and careful. He was.. Attractive. Handsome. Cute. Words you never thought you’d use to describe a creature with protruding horns and other inhuman features. And with each season passed inside the castle together, the more you grew fond of him. 

You spent many afternoons together in the library. You were surprised to learn he could read; something that perhaps shouldn’t have been surprising in hindsight, given his capability of speech, but it still shocked you. The ability to read wasn’t something necessary to his everyday life, but he liked doing it to pass time, or ease the loneliness of living alone.

All the books in the castle’s library were dated, easily hundreds of years old; it was clear that every single book was one left behind by the previous inhabitants, and not a single new book had entered the library since. Their age didn’t make them any less enjoyable however, and in fact you found it exciting to have so many stories you’d never heard of before to dive into. 

Watching Changbin read was a treat within itself. Even the thickest of novels looked comically small in his large hands, and turning pages was always a struggle for him. You couldn’t help but giggle watching him try to turn a single page with his finger, only to instead turn several. There were many times you took it upon yourself to help him once your giggling subsided. 

Given his size, he’d often have to sit in a hunched position, or hold books up quite close to his face to read them. And the words– they must’ve looked so tiny to him; you were certain it was a strain. Then add his struggle to turn pages on top of it..

While it was cute to watch him pout after he turned way too many pages at once, you also didn’t want to just sit idly by if he was having a hard time. Especially not when you were more than capable of assisting him.

He was surprised when you first offered to help him read, curiously tilting his head as he watched you close the book you were reading to walk over to him. Changbin often sat on the floor, much too big and heavy to sit in the castle’s arm chairs or sofas. His place on the floor made it easy for you to climb up his leg, and sit on his thigh. 

“I could turn the pages for you,” you explained, reaching over to the book lying in his hands to demonstrate how easy it is for you to turn the pages one at a time. “Or read them to you, should your eyes grow tired from looking at the tiny words,” you said. 

You remember his smile clearly; how sweet it was, and the way his nose cutely scrunched as his smile grew the biggest you’d seen it. He seemed really thankful; he didn’t say it, but you think it meant a lot to him that you were showing him kindness.

That’s how you fell into a comfortable routine. At least a few afternoons a week, you’d sit somewhere on Changbin’s body; one of his thighs if you were reading the book to him, or his forearm if you were turning the pages for him. Sometimes his shoulder too, if a book needed to be held especially close to his face for him to be able to read the words written.

When the sun would set, and candles needed to be lit, you often sat on his shoulder as he moved about the room, helping him light them. He’d always help you up carefully, offering one of his large hands as support, or carefully wrap his fingers around you to lift you up to his shoulder. He wouldn’t move an inch or take a single step until he was certain you were steady and comfortable.

You’d always get sleepy after that. The moon through the windows, the soft candle light, the sound of turning pages as the wood in the library’s fireplace crackled, the warmth Changbin exuded.. It was just so comfortable; especially if you were sitting on his thigh.

His fur was like a blanket, his broad, soft torso like a warm pillow. And sometimes, when you relaxed all the way against him, you could hear his heart rhythmically beating. It wasn’t uncommon for you to fall asleep, and every time you did, Changbin would carry you back to your room.

He would carefully cradle you in his arms, and you’d unconsciously curl into him as he rose up from the ground to carry you to bed. The doors of the castle, while larger than any typical door, were still too small to accommodate his size. 

He’d have to duck through them while also minding his horns, your body pressing to his chest as he hunched his body to step through them. If you were awake enough to feel it, you never minded it. If you were being honest, you liked it. You liked the warmth when he held you, liked feeling his chest against you, liked hearing the thumping of his heart.

Sometimes, you were tempted to ask him to stay with you, or to ask him to take you to his room. Changbin was just so comfortable and warm– having him next to you all night just sounded like it’d be so pleasant. Safe too; you always felt safe in his presence.

The following mornings, you’d stare up at your canopy and wonder if such thoughts were okay to have. Changbin was a man– an inhuman man, but a man all the same. And it was in these moments, alone in your room and fresh from sleep, contemplating where you are and the life you lead now that you realize you are more than just fond of Changbin. 

You knew you would never leave the castle, but it wasn’t just because your best chance at survival and protection was here. It was because the thought of leaving him behind made your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. You didn’t like contemplating what a life without him in it would look like. 

And it was almost funny how despite being a beast, Changbin was the kindest man you’d ever known. Complicated as it may be, you think you love him more than you should. You want him more than you should.

It’d hit you when you shared meals, and he’d watch you with his impossibly dark, warm eyes. His attentive stare made you warm– too warm. You’d swallow, try to focus on anything other than his full lips, or the swell of his chest, or the flex of his arms when he reached out to grab a piece of meat. 

It'd hit you when you watched him split wood for the fireplaces with his bare hands. Your heart would swell when you'd step out to the gardens, and he'd carefully maneuver so as to not crush the growing flowers. From innocent, sweet love to deepest, carnal desire, and then back again, your thoughts of Changbin were like a pendulum.

It’d even hit you in the moments of comfortable silence, when ease settled over you both at day's end. When you’d tentatively steal glances at each other until your eyes accidentally meet, and you both look away, bashful and unsure. 

You’d feel it creeping on you, warming your body exponentially until you felt feverish with desire to be closer to him. Even alone, in bed or in the bath, your thoughts would linger on him. Innocent thoughts and curiosities about how it'd be for him to kiss and hold you quickly give way to perversion– impure thoughts you really, really think you shouldn’t be having. 

You needed to get yourself together. There’s no way an intimate relationship is feasible between you– you shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought. But God, you can’t stop your mind from going there. Even just watching him lick his lips and fingers clean after he finishes eating is enough to get your heart racing these days.

Every day, you desperately try to ignore it.

It’s easier on the days you venture outside the castle’s familiar walls. Warm, sunny days, where you explore the forest from the safety of Changbin’s broad shoulder. He showed you so many things you’d never seen before, things you never thought were real.

Fairy villages, magic healing ponds, meadows of enchanted flowers. His fairy friends were excited to meet you, and similar to Changbin himself, you realized they were much kinder than tales would lead you to believe. 

They were tricksters, yes; many were fond of a good prank. But really, they just wanted to have fun, and there was no inherent harm in that. (Though Changbin did advise you to speak carefully, lest you accidentally end up in a fae pact he’d have no way to help you out of.)

You watched Changbin trade with them too. A few beads from a broken necklace or marbles from a forgotten child’s playset he found within the castle you called home was all he needed to provide to receive bushels of their freshly grown fruits and vegetables.

If you returned back to the castle with a good chunk of daylight left, you’d spend them together in the castle’s flower garden. It was overgrown, and sometimes hard to navigate, but you always enjoyed your time there. Changbin would always set you down to the ground carefully, letting you roam the garden at your leisure while he picked a sunny spot in the grass to relax in.

You got the idea to make him a flower crown once. It was something you and other village girls enjoyed doing, and it was common to give them to people you cared for. It was simple, but you thought it’d be a good way to show your appreciation to Changbin for all the ways he helped you since the day you met him. 

You wondered, as you went around the garden picking flowers, if he had ever received a gift before. Apart from his dealings with the fairies, he lived a very isolated life before he met you. And while the fairies were his friends to some extent, you couldn’t imagine them giving something away without receiving something in return. 

You suppose you just wanted him to have the feeling of joy that comes with a gift. The warm feeling that settles in your chest when you realize someone was thinking of you, the delight that seeps inside you when you see the effort they made to give you a visual representation of how much they care for you. You were thinking that Changbin deserves to have that feeling.

When you were done collecting what felt like dozens of flowers, you sat yourself in the sunny grass clearing next to Changbin. He was lying flat on his back, the sun highlighting his face beautifully. His eyes were closed, and the soft snores (for his size, anyways), told you he’d fallen asleep. 

You observed him for a moment, smiling to yourself over how soft and cute his features looked whilst sleeping before you got to work on the flower crown. It took quite some time considering you had to make it much larger than you typically would. Changbin eventually stirred awake and sat up, watching you work curiously but ultimately saying nothing as he observed– he didn’t want to distract you.

“Finally! All done!” you exclaimed after threading the final of the flowers you picked together, and Changbin did his usual inquisitive tilt of the head. “It’s pretty. What is it for?” he asked, watching as you rise to your feet with your creation in hand. “It’s a flower crown,” you answer as you hold it out to him to accept, “for you.” 

He simply blinked in response, saying nothing as he processed the information. It may not have been the first time he’d ever been given a gift by another, but it was certainly the first one he’d ever received from a human. You didn’t intend to let it be the last, either. “Crown?” he finally asked after a moment, “I wear it?”

“Mhm! Like this,” you said as you held the crown around your head to try to show him what you meant. “It’s too big for my head since I made it for you, but.. Here, let me put it on you!” You hooked the flower crown you made gently around your arm after you spoke, and grabbed at one of his hands.

Changbin understood what you wanted him to do, and so he lowered his hands to the ground so that you could step onto them. You sat on your knees whilst in his hands, finding it much easier to keep your balance that way as opposed to standing; and then, as he had many times before, he lifted you carefully up.

You instructed him to tilt his head towards you, and he did without question. It occurred to you then that maybe you underestimated how big you needed to make the flower crown.

The one you made was definitely big– too big for a human head, that was for sure. Still, Changbin is at least double the size of every man in your village, and he has horns. Realizing there was no way to make it sit around his head the way it's intended to, you opted for simply placing it on his head between his horns, and letting it rest there.

You smiled at him when he lifted his head, and told him what you truly thought– that he looked cute. “Really?” he questioned, surprised to be considered such. There have been many words by humans and his little winged friends used to describe him, and ‘cute’ wasn’t usually among them.

You watched him as he processed his thoughts, another few moments passing before he moved his hands to one of his shoulders, urging you to get on. You did, clinging to his cape tightly when he moved faster than you expected him to. Changbin was always patient and careful when you were on him, always moving slowly– you hadn’t anticipated the sudden change in the slightest. 

You were a little confused, unsure of what his sudden rush to leave the gardens was, but it quickly became clear; he was looking for somewhere to see his reflection. He tried the fountain first, but when he realized he couldn’t see himself clearly enough in the water, he made his way back to the castle.

The entry doors to the castle were tall and wide enough that he didn’t have to hunch or awkwardly step through them, but he still moved carefully through it. Despite his rush to see himself, he still wasn’t walking as fast as you both knew he could.

He was trying his best not to break the glass and porcelain inside nearby cabinets with his steps, though he was still moving quick enough that the castle’s floor shook as he continued through the entry hall. His desire to be careful even whilst in a rush was endearing; it brought a smile to your face.

The ballroom was Changbin’s ultimate destination. It had a large mirror, floor to ceiling, encompassing a substantial chunk of the wall opposite the windows. It was the only room in the entire castle that had a mirror large enough for him to see his entire reflection with, from the tips of his horns all the way down to his hooved feet.

His eyes changed when he first saw his reflection– so fast that you would’ve missed it if you’d blinked. He got up close to the mirror, examining himself with the flower crown you made for him resting between his horns, and truly, he looked happy.

You chose the colors of the flowers well, each one meant to compliment the deep brown of his hair. Soft yellows, vibrant blues, and light, pretty pinks– each selection, in your eye, was perfect. You were relieved that Changbin seemed to agree.

He wasn’t just looking at the flowers atop his head in the reflection though; he was also looking at you. Sat there on his shoulder, looking at him with more kindness than he’d ever felt from anyone. Your eyes met through the reflection, and he could feel his heart starting to beat faster– he wondered if you could feel it too, with your legs dangling over his chest.

He’d never felt this way before, and didn’t know what to do with himself. He knew from his books that humans give gifts to people they care about, and for many reasons. Kindness, appreciation, love.. What was your reason? He found himself hoping it was all of them. He hoped you cared about him as much as he cares about you.

“Thank you,” Changbin said, realizing that he should’ve done so from the start. He thought maybe he should read more books on human manners and improve himself. He hoped he didn’t seem inappreciative by taking so long to thank you for doing something kind for him. His worries melted away when you smiled at him again though, sincere and sweet as always.

“You’re welcome! You’ve always done so much to help me, I wanted to thank you somehow,” you explain. Changbin didn’t think you needed to thank him for anything. No matter who it was out in the forest that night, he would’ve helped them. He’d have let them stay in his home, fed them, and made sure they were well.

But he’s glad it was you; he doesn’t think he could envision the castle without you in it anymore. There may come a day when you grow tired of Changbin being your only companion, and of your daily life in the castle. On that day, you may wish to return to human society, even if your return isn’t to the village you grew up in. 

He’d let you go if you wanted to; he’d never, never force you to stay. But he hopes you stay. He hopes that you’ll always be here with him.

“But that’s not the only reason I made it,” you continued, finding a moment of bravery to be a bit vulnerable with your feelings. Changbin watched your expression change in the mirror, your brightness replaced by something more timid as you twiddled your thumbs.

Apart from your tentative first nights here when you were still getting comfortable with his presence, you always met his gaze head on while talking. This was the first time since then that you hesitated to look him in the eye whilst speaking to him, even if it was just eye contact through the ballroom mirror. He found it curious; he wondered if he should be worried.

“The girls in my village also like to make these for people we care about. I wanted you to know that too. That I care about you,” you told him. It felt incredibly nerve wracking to say it aloud, though you didn't think he'd pick up on the underlying romantic sentiment that village girls usually tied to their gifted flower crowns.

Honestly, it was okay if he didn’t recognize how much you like him. Perhaps in some ways it was better if he didn’t; because you are a small human, and Changbin is so much more than that.

Difference in anatomy aside, you don’t think humans and beasts are supposed to have deep feelings for one another. Friendship was fine, you thought, but love? You just weren’t sure that was a line you should cross.

Still, regardless of whether or not such feelings towards him were okay to have, they were already there. Before that day, you thought you loved him; but seeing him look at you, pink in the cheeks and happy, with the flower crown on his head that you made him, you knew for certain.

You love him. And watching the concern melt away and turn to joy when you told him you care about him was more than enough to tell you how deeply you adore him.

You decided to leave the moment with one last, small gesture. You leaned over, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. It was a simple, innocent sign of affection, but his heart stuttered all the same, as did yours.

“I care about you too,” he’d said with his usual soft, timid smile when you looked at him again, the pink on his cheeks deepening, "very much.”

Laying awake as you are now, recalling your memories with Changbin, you yearn for him even more. You want him beyond friendship, foolish and impossible as it may be. You want to tell him you love him, to kiss him, to lie with him at night and feel his warmth envelope you all over. 

You want to touch him, want him to touch you, want to straddle as much of his waist as you can as he lies beneath you, and– God, enough, you huff to yourself. You roll over, bury your head in your pillows and let out a frustrated yell into them. 

You wish you knew what to do with these feelings. How would things go if you simply told him? What if you said nothing, and instead acted on them in one of your quietly shared moments of comfort? Would he accept your kiss? Would he return your feelings?

Tossing onto your back once more, you stare up at your canopy as you always do when your brain is plagued by thoughts of Changbin. You sigh after a moment, and close your eyes, wondering if he ever lies awake at night like you do, if he has feelings like yours that he too doesn’t know what to do with. Though you probably shouldn’t, you can’t help but hope that he does.

The arrival of winter didn't make your struggle with your feelings for Changbin any easier. The outdoors used to serve as a distraction; your growing love and attraction to him was never truly silenced, but at least you found it easier to focus your attention elsewhere whilst you were outside the castle walls.

All you can do when you're inside the castle is think of him. When you're in the same room, you find it hard not to stare at him. And sure, you stared at him a lot before, but now it felt different; because before, you were simply curious about him. Now it's purely because you're too lovesick to look anywhere else.

When you read books together, you often find that you don't actually remember what happened in the story. At some point, your thoughts always travel to Changbin, and they linger there despite all efforts to focus on the book in your hands.

The fact that his body is touching yours more often these days doesn't help. It's a particularly cold winter, perhaps the coldest it's ever been in all your years. Snow is piled up to your calves when you step outside, tree branches are completely frosted over, and icicles hang from nearly every inch of the castle's exterior.

Suffice it to say, you are often very cold. Changbin doesn't suffer from the cold nearly as much as you do, but he does his best to keep the castle warmer for your sake. The minute you step into a room he lights the fireplace for you, and you stick close to it, sitting before it with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

But even still, you found yourself shivering much more than either of you'd like. The only time you stopped was when you were in his lap, likely thanks to the inhuman amount of warmth that radiates off his body.

So now, instead of sitting or laying in his lap just being a part of helping him read, you'd spend a majority of your winter days there, clinging to his warmth. He'd sit himself as close to the fireplace as he could, with you curled snuggly on his lap.

His fur was like an extra blanket, warm and soft and comfortable. Nearly every day was spent next to the library's fireplace, as reading was about the only thing you could do whilst trying to stay warm.

Though, as previously stated, you found it hard to focus on reading lately. And even when you did manage to focus on the words in front of you, your eyes would quickly grow heavy; Changbin was just too comfortable to lay on– you just couldn't resist dozing off.

Every night was cold, but some were worse than others. On the first of one of those extra chilly nights, when the time in which you'd go your separate ways for bed came, Changbin hesitated to carry you back to your room. Even if he lit your fireplace before he left, you'd be cold without him, he knew it for a fact.

He looked down at where he held you in his arms, asleep and curled into him, cozy and warm, and he made a decision; he took you to his room. You would understand, he thought. You may be confused when you wake up in a room that isn’t your own, but you’d understand why you were there.

And you trust him now; you wouldn’t be upset with him, especially not when he has your best interest at heart. He hoped not, anyways; in his experience, humans can be unpredictable. But you're a good human– one that he likes and cares for more than he ever has for anyone else.

With such thoughts in mind, he carried you to his room. And as he hoped, you weren't upset in the slightest to wake up the next morning beside him (or more accurately, atop him.)

You were certainly confused at first, opening your eyes and blinking away sleep only to be met with slightly unfamiliar surroundings. The windows and the view through them were the same, but the room was brighter than your own, with no curtains to obscure the sunrays pouring over you. There was less furniture strewn about than in your own room, and you were higher up from the ground than you’d be if you were lying in your own bed.

It took a moment for you to become cognitive enough to register that the reason for this, along with what the blissful warmth you were feeling was, was Changbin's body underneath you. One of his hands was resting on your back too, heavy and limp with sleep, but you didn't mind it. Strangely, you found the weight of his hand on your back comforting.

Your head was on his chest, and you could hear the rhythmic beating of his heart, slow but steady. That too, was comforting. You closed your eyes again, but you didn't fall asleep like you might otherwise expect. You were simply basking in the comfort, enjoying lying with him in bed like you'd been wanting to for so long. You wondered if he'd let you stay even once winter came to an end. 

When you felt him begin to stir awake, you lifted your head to look at him, watching him fondly as he stretched and hummed, and blinked away the last bits of whatever dream he was having. When your eyes met for the first time that morning, he seemed apprehensive; it was easy to deduce that he thought you may be uncomfortable with his choice to bring you here. 

Ideally, he would've asked you first, or let you know that the option would be available should you want it; but when he thought about how cold you'd be shivering alone in bed, he just couldn't leave you be. When you smiled at him and whispered a soft good morning, you saw nothing but pure relief in his eyes.

You knew Changbin's heart, that he was nothing but sweet and caring. The trust you placed in him, and the way you wordlessly understood him made his heart soar. But not just that– laying with you every night, and waking up to you in general made his body react in ways entirely foreign to him.

Naturally, from that cold winter’s night onward, you always slept with him. Your body, so soft and smooth, felt good pressed against him. If you weren’t yet asleep when he’d lie down with you in his arms, you’d hug him after you both settled in; your arms obviously couldn’t wrap fully around him, but you’d still try to get as much of his body in your embrace as you could manage to. 

And every morning, when you’d sit up in his lap and look down at him, his heart would always stutter, his already incredibly warm body growing hotter. Your sweet smile, your softly spoken ���good morning”s, the way your lightly tousled hair beautifully framed your face– all of it affected him in ways he never imagined would happen to him.

Changbin knew of such feelings conceptually– he’s read more than his fair share of novels featuring romantic subplots within the library. But he always thought such experiences and sentiments would be out of reach for him; he was the only one of his kind in the forest, and normal humans feared him too greatly to build a bond with him.

Even you feared him at first, and while he hoped that it wouldn’t always be that way, he wouldn’t have been surprised if you never grew to like him. He was so, so happy when, in only a short time, you were no longer scared of him. He was even happier when you showed him kindness. He was happier still when he realized you considered him a friend. Having a companion after so many years of loneliness was more valuable to him than words could express.

In some ways, he supposes falling in love with you was natural. How couldn’t he fall in love with the first person to ever see him for who he was past his appearance? The first person who told him they liked his appearance. He didn’t believe you the first time you said it– how could he? All he’d ever known before from humans was fear and scorn.

He didn’t know how to accept it, always left in disbelief when you complimented him. But even if he didn’t quite believe it, he still liked hearing it. He liked it when you called him cute, or said he looked handsome, or kissed his cheek after calling him sweet.

He liked when you smiled at him, and the way you’d try to hold his hand despite how much smaller yours were than his. He liked listening to you talk, whether it was because you were reading a book to him, or because you had a lot on your mind; he could listen to you for hours, no matter the topic.

He likes hearing about your dreams, he likes the sound of your giggle, he likes the way you twirl in your dresses. He liked it when you taught him how to dance, and how you encouraged him when his steps were initially awkward. He liked how thoughtful and good you were to him. He likes that you help him believe he truly is all the kind things you describe him as.

No, he shouldn’t say he likes those things about you– it was much more accurate to say he loves them. Changbin loves everything about you. He wants to tell you as much, but he never imagined it’d be so difficult to say; he always thought that when the characters in his books struggled to find the words, it was merely exaggeration for dramatic effect.

In reality, it actually is quite hard to speak such things aloud. Changbin is normally a very candid person, able to speak whatever he thinks freely; but when it comes to you, and the feelings he has for you, his mouth runs dry, the words lodging in his throat. And realistically, should he even say them?

He knows it's true when you compliment him, he knows that you genuinely care for him and enjoy his company. But it’s hard to believe you can love him, it’s hard not to think he’s too different from you, hard to completely shut out the memories of humans fearing him. Sometimes, he’s scared that deep down there’s a part of you that still fears him.

"Changbin? Are you asleep..?" your voice calls to him softly, breaking him from his thoughts. It honestly startled him just a little; he's so used to you already being asleep before you're brought into the room, or falling asleep quickly if you aren't. He hadn't expected your voice to break the silence. 

As is typical for your nightly arrangement, you're lying atop him with your head on his chest. It's only now that he realizes your fingers have been absentmindedly tracing his skin the entire time he was lost in thought. 

Changbin doesn't have a bed in the traditional sense– he's much too big to fit on human mattresses. Instead, he has various pillows and blankets piled together on the floor. It's surprisingly comfortable, but you always find yourself laying on him, rather than next to him on his makeshift bed. 

"I'm awake," he murmurs, trying to keep his voice as soft and low as possible, "..was thinking." You hum, and lift yourself up to look at him. The room is dark, but his lack of curtains allows you to clearly make out his features in the moonlight.

He can see you just as clearly, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest; you're always so pretty when the moon illuminates you. 

"So was I. Made it hard to fall asleep," you reply, and Changbin eyes you curiously. He can tell by your somewhat solemn expression that something seems to be weighing on you. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you for a while now, something I can't stop thinking about," you continue. 

Changbin swallows, suddenly nervous. Given where his thoughts were just moments ago, he can't help but fear that the moment he's been dreading has finally come– this is where you ask him to take you home.

Maybe not home, as the village you grew up in is a place you don't wish to return, but away from here– away from him. Back to human society where you belong, to a place that he could never hope to follow, a place he could never live in with you.

"Wh-What.. What is it?" he asks, hesitant; he really hopes you can't tell how anxious he is, but he's certain his voice has betrayed it already. He wishes he wasn't so terrified of losing you.

Even in the dim lighting, you could clearly see the way his expression changed to one of immense trepidation. You wonder if he's nervous because he can see that you're nervous. It takes you a moment to even begin to speak again, timidly fidgeting with your fingers as you try to will your voice to return to you.

"Have you ever.. been in love..?" you ask him, voice so soft and timid that Changbin almost misses it, even with his exceptional hearing. You watch as his ears flick, his eyes widen slightly as he takes your question in, his cheeks growing ever so slightly pinker.

His surprise is to be expected– from his perspective, this question must seem incredibly out of the blue. But truthfully, it's been eating at you for weeks. You know you're in love with Changbin, but you don't know how possible it is for him to love you back. You don't know if he's ever loved anyone at all– and you have to know.

If not to give yourself hope, then to put your infatuation with him to rest once and for all. If he rejects you, living with him may be awkward for a time, but at least you could try to put an end to your hopeless pining.

Changbin blinks, unsure how to respond. If he were to answer on the basis of what his life was like before you were in it, then the answer was no– he'd never been in love. Never, in all his years, had met someone and fallen for them.

But if he were to answer for the present.. Is he in love now? Yes, he is– he's in love with you. Your eyes search his desperately, and it's clear there's an answer you're hoping to hear– but which answer is it? You chew your bottom lip nervously as you watch him consider his answer. "No, and yes," he finally responds.

"No, and yes..?" you mimic, uncertain and curious. Changbin nods, and he's thankful you're no longer laying on his chest, because you'd certainly hear the quick, erratic thumping of his heart.

"I was never in love. Not before. I.. am in love now," he says, letting out a nervous exhale as the last word leaves his lips. The implication is clear, and he watches apprehensively as your eyes widen, and the truth fully settles itself within you.

Changbin is always honest and forthright, in a way that humans typically never are. Free of societal norms and expectations, he's never had to lie about anything, nor does he feel the need to. So when he looks into your eyes, deep and vulnerable, and tells you that what he feels now is love, you believe him entirely.

"Me too," you utter softly, voice a timid whisper, "I was never in love, not before.. I am now."

Changbin sits up from his makeshift bed, quickly bringing one of his large hands to your back so that the sudden movement doesn't cause you to topple off him. He doesn't want to be lying down when he asks you if this means what he thinks it does– he wants to meet your gaze directly.

"Do you mean that? Can you really love me?" he questions, hopeful but unsure– it nearly breaks your heart that he even has to ask. If there's anything in your life that you're certain of, it's that Changbin is the best man you've ever known.

It doesn't matter that he's not entirely human, it doesn't matter that he eclipses you in size and stature, it doesn't matter that he has horns, hooves, and a tail. All that matters is how he treats you, and makes you feel; and you've never known anyone who makes you feel as warm, safe, and cared for as he does.

Sitting in his lap, you look up at him and smile, warm and affectionate. "I've never meant anything more than I mean this– I love you, Changbin."

In all his life, even at his loneliest and most isolated, in his most saddened and hurt, he'd never had the urge to cry. But now he feels it, welling from deep inside and choking him up. He's always wanted to be accepted, loved– even when it seemed impossible and entirely irrational, he wanted it.

What is it that humans do when they're filled with so much emotion for another? All his books have different answers, but there's one that sticks in his mind predominantly– they get married. And perhaps he can't marry you the way a human man can, but he can make the same vow; he can, and will, promise to love you for the rest of your lives.

You reach out to him, placing your hands on round cheeks, the heat of his blush incredibly warm on your palms. "Can I kiss you?" you ask him, and he sucks in a breath, nodding shyly. His ears pick up on the loud thumping of his quickly beating heart– he wonders if it's loud enough for you to hear it too.

You lean up as he leans down for you, both of you closing your eyes as you touch your lips softly to his. You linger there, feeling the blush on his cheeks flare with more heat as you kiss him. When you pull back, you can see his eyes sparkling with awe and adoration. Shyly, he breaks his gaze away from your eyes, darting them down to your lips; it’s easy to tell he wants to kiss you again.

With your hands still on his cheeks, you guide him back to you. You kiss him again and again, slow and gentle. Eventually, you let your hands move to his chest, and you can feel the rapid thumping of his heart beneath your fingertips. He brings one of his hands to your waist, and pulls you closer, until your tiny body is flush with his.

His lips are so plump and soft, and now that you know what they feel like against your own, you never want to stop kissing him. Unfortunately for you, your lungs are much smaller than Changbin’s, and you run out of breath very quickly, often having to be the one to pull away first.

He always watches you intently when you do, all the care and affection he has towards you pouring out of him in droves as he stares at you. But there's a new emotion written in his eyes too– desire, yearning. All you’ve done is kiss him, but he’s positively, undeniably enchanted by you, a deeply rooted need for more of your touch clawing its way to the surface.

When you kiss him again, you tentatively run your tongue across his bottom lip. The feeling jolts him, sending a shiver down his spine. He parts his lips, cautiously slipping his tongue out to run over yours, butterflies erupting in his stomach over the soft noise of approval you give him in response. 

His tongue is longer than yours, as well thick and textured– it makes you imagine what it’d feel like if you progressed further, and allowed him to run it over every inch of your body. For now, you simply open your mouth for him, letting him lick and explore; it fills you with a strange sensation unlike anything you’ve ever felt, but you love it. 

Changbin carefully scoops his hands beneath you, lifting you up so he doesn’t have to hunch down to kiss you anymore. You wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him as closely as you can whilst your kisses continue to deepen and become more heated. He eventually grows just as breathless as you, his broad chest heaving as his thirst for you grows in intensity. 

It’s almost too much for him– the feeling of you in his hands, of you trying to press as much of your body to him as you can, of your sweet scent all over him. The need he feels for you goes beyond anything he’s ever felt, a deep innate hunger and desperation beginning to gnaw at him, clawing at his sense of reason.

He wants more of you– how much more he doesn’t know, but to simply kiss you isn’t enough. All of you, he thinks; he needs all of you in every way. He wants to feel you everywhere, to taste you everywhere, needs to experience the depths of love and intimacy with you.

He’s been trying for so long to deny how bad he wants it, so scared of scaring you off with unwanted advances– but now that he knows you feel the same as him, now that you’re kissing him like this, fevered and hungry, he can’t deny his craving for you any longer.

“Please,” Changbin whines under his breath when you next pull away, his voice the most light and airy either of you have ever heard. Anything, he’ll take anything you’re willing to give him– he just wants you, so badly he can hardly think straight anymore. It sends a wave of heat through your body, butterflies thrashing in your stomach. 

“Set me down, please?” you ask, and instantly he worries that he crossed a boundary, made you uncomfortable by wanting too much too soon. Still, he does as you ask, lowering his hands to the ground so you can reunite with the ground. He swallows nervously as he watches you step off his hands; thankfully, some of the tension he feels is eased when you shoot him your characteristically sweet, yet currently more bashful, smile.

The heat on his face flares when you break your gaze away from his face to look at his erection, fully unsheathed and visibly leaking large amounts of pre-cum. It’s thick, as is to be expected given his size, but to actually see it with your own eyes is astonishing. “Sorry,” he mumbles, embarrassed, starting to grab one of the many blankets littering the floor so he can cover himself.

You shake your head and reach for his hand, stopping him in his tracks. He slowly sets the blanket back down, both of you gazing at each other shyly as you swallow down your nerves to speak. “I want to.. Can I touch it..?” you ask, and oh, the way he throbs from the question alone. You can see it, heavy where it lies against his thighs, throbbing with desire and anticipation.

“Y-You- you want to?” he asks, very nearly sent reeling when you shyly nod your head. He’s wanted this for so long; and he tried not to, really. It felt inappropriate to want you that way, almost shameful every time he got hard with you in mind.

You always interacted with each other so sweetly, innocently– it felt perverse to lie in his makeshift bed at night and throb over the way your breasts looked pressed together in your dresses, or over the glimpses he got of your legs and thighs when you twirled around.

It wasn’t this way from the start; when he rescued you deep in the woods, he had nothing but pure intentions. He didn’t know you were beautiful, he didn’t know how soft and sweet you were, didn’t know how radiant you were in body and soul. He didn’t know he’d grow to love you, nor could he have predicted how badly he’d want you as his infatuation for you grew. 

Little does he know that you always wanted him just as bad, your late night thoughts always consumed by him. None of the village men ever made you feel the way Changbin does, never made your heart race or stomach erupt in butterflies, never filled you with such insatiable need for touch. 

“Ahh, I-” he exhales, trying to discreetly wipe away the sweat accumulating in his palms due to his nerves, “I.. yes, please, I’d like it.” Even just the thought of you touching his cock makes him feel like his heart is going to leap out of his chest– he has no idea how he’ll feel when you actually do it. Still, he wants it; and he watches you, unconsciously holding his breath as he waits for you to act.

He’s leaking so much, and it occurs to you that your dress will get very wet and messy if you leave it on while you touch him. The thought of being naked in front of Changbin makes you nervous, but also excites you somehow; and technically speaking, he’s always naked in front of you– apart from the cape he wears during the day, anyways. So there’s no reason to be so shy about it, right?

You gaze up at him, still timid despite the pep talk you’re giving yourself internally, and you reach behind your back to untie the ribbons that keep your silk gown on your body. You can hear Changbin’s breath hitch as the fabric loosens and begins to fall away, your bare torso becoming visible to his eyes for the first time. 

Your breasts were so pretty, so full– and yet even then, they’d surely look small in his large hands. Still, you weren’t done revealing yourself to him just yet; reaching lower down your back, you loosen another ribbon– the one keeping it held around your waist. Your gown falls down your hips and to the floor once untied, now left only in your panties before his eyes. 

Fuck, he wants to touch you– but you asked him first, and he’s not going to interrupt whatever you have planned for him. You step closer to him, and climb up his leg to sit yourself on one of his large thighs. He can’t help but gasp when you bring your hands to his cock, and just as you thought it’d be from seeing it, it’s heavy.

It’s much too thick to wrap your fingers around, your hands appearing impossibly small in comparison. You rub your hands over his sensitive tip, glancing up at Changbin’s face when he lets out a whine. Your hands quickly become slick from the steadily leaking pre-cum, gliding easily up and down the length of his cock. There’s not as much friction as there’d be if it was Changbin’s own hand, but he prefers this despite it– having you touch him is much, much better.

He moans when you lean forward to kiss and lick the tip, his pre-cum smearing over your lips and cheeks. He fists the blankets below him, his breaths growing harsher as he watches you work him up. Your hands stroke his length in a steady rhythm while you continue to lavish his tip with attention using your mouth, and he can’t help the frequency of his whines and moans.

He already feels so close– you're so soft, so wet, it drives him crazy. When you stop kissing and licking his cock, you sit up to look back up at him, and God, the sight of you– you’re glistening with his pre-cum and your own saliva. It’s dripped down your chin, falling to your breasts and the sight proves too much for him– he whimpers, stuttering out your name as his cock twitches and spurts of thick cum begin to shoot from the tip.

You make a noise of surprise, watching in awe as it coats your bodies; his stomach, your whole torso, your hands– you wouldn’t be surprised if some ended up on the blankets beneath him too. Your stomach flips when he finally comes down from his high and looks at you. Reddened cheeks, flushed body, harsh breaths– and yet he still gazes at you hungrily.

“Your turn,” he breathes as he effortlessly scoops you into his hands, paying no mind to the mess that covers you. His carnal desire for you is fraying at him, his shyness becoming increasingly eclipsed by his need. “Can I-” he starts, lifting you up towards his face, “Is it okay? Can I do the same for you? Please?”

He’s sure you can feel how much his hands are trembling for you– he hasn’t even seen between your legs yet, hasn’t yet tasted you, but his mind already feels like it’s in a frenzy. “Yes, please,” you tell him with a nod, and he brings you closer, responding with an appreciative, hungry kiss. He licks away the mess left there, then swipes his tongue over your torso, not at all minding the taste of his own cum.

You squirm in his hands, and when he’s done, he gently nudges you with his nose, urging you to lay back. Your back meets his fingers, your butt cradled in his palms while your legs dangle over his wrists. “Can you take them off like this?” he asks, and you nod, letting out a nervous exhale as you bring your hands to your sides, and hook the hem of your panties in your fingers.

You know Changbin would never drop you or let you fall, but you’re still careful not to make big movements as you slide them down your thighs, and then lift your legs to pull them off. You toss them aside, and shyly spread your legs open for him to look at your dripping pussy. You smell so sweet– he imagines that you’ll taste even sweeter. 

You shiver when he starts by placing kisses between your thighs, your legs spreading further apart to accommodate him. He sticks out his tongue, and the whine you let you when he licks between your folds is intoxicating. His tongue is too big to focus only on your clit, but the sensation of him licking up and down is still utterly delicious.

He moans and hums as he devours you, and the vibration of it makes you tremble. You let out a loud whimper and your eyes roll back when he dips his tongue carefully into your hole. It reaches deeper than your fingers ever could, feels so much better than them too– you never imagined something could feel this good. 

Your nails dig into his palms, but Changbin pays no mind to it, continuing to alternate between dipping his tongue into your hole and licking you up from top to bottom. He can feel your body tensing, the shaking of your legs and twitching of your thighs growing more intense as he drives you closer to release. 

You cry his name over and over, the syllables broken between whimpers as your back arches and your cum gushes on to his tongue. He licks it up and swallows it eagerly, and it serves to effectively draw out your orgasm, the sounds you make easily the prettiest he’s ever heard. 

You collapse back against his fingers when your high ebbs away, and you feel positively euphoric, every inch of your body buzzing from the pleasure. Changbin waits until you catch your breath again to kiss you, and you bring your hands to his face, holding him close as he shares the taste of your release with you. 

He carefully adjusts his hold of you afterwards, cradling you in his arms and laying you against his chest as he rises from his floor bed. “Need to take a bath,” he mumbles to you as you instinctively curl into his embrace. He cringes when he thinks about how much effort it’ll take to clean the mess from his fur and sheath, but he wouldn’t have done anything differently; the night was perfect– you were perfect.

You’re exhausted, but you do your best to help him get clean once you’re done washing yourself, and he covers you with appreciative kisses when the task is done. You giggle from the attention, and Changbin giggles too before he scoops you back into his arms to carry you to bed.

Doing away with the soiled blankets he’ll leave to clean tomorrow, he replaces them with some from the many empty rooms littered about. You’d fallen asleep shortly exiting the bath, and it was a bit challenging for Changbin to fix the bed one handed, but he wasn’t going to set you down onto the cold floor– and you surely would’ve pouted if you woke up without him in reach. 

He heaves a heavy sigh once he finally lays down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he rests his own against the many pillows beneath him. He whispers that he loves you before he closes his eyes, and he guesses you were just awake enough to hear it, because you sleepily whisper it back. 

It makes him smile, and he squeezes you in his arms just a little. And as he drifts to sleep, he thinks about how lucky he is to have you, how wonderful it is to be loved, how happy he’ll be spending every moment in his life together with you.

network tags: @ksmutsociety @skzstarnet

[ma1dita]

solipsism

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k

summary: (post-TLT) drink responsibly… trouble doesn’t; you punch luke in this lol (novelization spoilers? kinda canon-compliant)

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. Luke visits you four times during college, in a timeline opposite to yours (doctor x river song-coded) (lore expansion & explanation here) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: i hurt myself with this one. anyways its canon (to me) that we’re roommates now !!!! more to come like i promised even during my birthday break ! scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)

(post 3/6, edited/betad @hotchfiles )

—

solipsism (the idea that only one’s mind is sure to exist)

You didn’t mean to send a prayer out into the world so strong that it would will an apparition of an Olympian, but burning cookies seems to be your specialty. Arguably, they weren’t the good kind, just the ones you grab in the freezer aisle of Walmart, and still, somehow they set your fire alarm off. Opening a window and waving through the smoke— Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home was standing next to the rickety dining table you bought off Facebook marketplace. 

“Holy shit, you scared me!” 

There’s mirth in her eyes at your reaction, though for all you know it could be annoyance—it’s not often that an immortal could be badgered enough to reveal themselves for an accident like this one.

“Dionysus was right. You’re too much like him for your own good,” she grins, taking a seat at the table like she’s an old friend. There’s a warmth to her unlike anyone you’ve met before—fire crackling in her eyes and an aura of serenity swaddling the air that you’ve never felt before in your student accomodations.

“I’m sorry I just… with all due respect, what’s going on?”

You go to toss the hot tray of cookies in the trash bin, before hesitating and putting them on your nicest plate. A gentle shove slides them over the table to the goddess, and she takes a crunch out of one happily.

“You were praying,” she states, like its common knowledge, “so strongly, in fact, I thought I’d make a visit to one of my most loyal devotees. Though in this case, you’re the object of his devotion, yes?”

Your hands are clasped across your lap and a familiar feeling spreads through you, then she jerks her hand up and points, “There. You’re doing it again. Y’know, it’s about time you start reciprocating the effort. Hermes’ son prays for you with intention.” You were thinking about Luke before she appeared—and hope glimmered like a tiny open flame. It’s still there, in the slow beating of your heart.

“He’s waging war with the gods. I don’t think he prays to them anymore,” you reason. Luke's offerings to the hearth must have been extinguished by the wrath he’s rained on Camp Half-Blood by now. The perfect storm.

“Not when it comes to you. Mortals never fail to surprise me. But it seems you’re a special case, my sweet. He’s made a home of you.”

To love Luke feels like having to keep a secret and never being able to tell anyone, but Hestia reaches for your hands across the table and looks at you knowingly.

“When I gave up my seat on Olympus for your father it wasn’t a sign of weakness, even if I did it so that others could be happy. I think your soul is a lot like mine in that you’ve given up so much of what you want to protect others. In turn, he’s doing the best he can to protect you; I listen to him every day, sweet girl. You are not weak for loving him still. There are generations of strength in your bones.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I search for him in everyone I meet and I’m not sure I’ll ever find that type of love again.”

These are thoughts you’d never told anyone—not Annabeth, not your father, not even yourself and surely never aloud.

“I hope you never do,” the goddess says, and you know it too.

i. no winter lasts forever (a night out after a drive home from virginia)

Flick. Flick.

“Come on, Hestia. Not you too. Don’t fail me now,” you mumble. The frigid metal of your zippo lighter rubs against your thumbs as you cup it in your hands, shielding the tiny flame that fights the harsh winter wind. Trying to focus as you lean against the brick of the Inferno, you take a deep inhale of smoke to warm your bones. Healing was never supposed to be easy.

Breathe in.

It’s somewhat of a routine you’ve made since getting back from visiting Annie. You’re a regular at this pub now—not even acclimated to the ins and outs of your sleepy college town, and though you don’t know the name of the hall your classes are in, you do know there’s a barstool in the corner of the Inferno with your name on it. There’s something funny about using your father’s gift as a form of fake id, and you wonder if he knows how heavily you indulge in your vices. Five vodka redbulls down the hatch have your knees feeling weak under the alley light until a stranger looms over you like a shadow.

“Those things are gonna kill you one day.”

Breathe out.

“Gods willing,” you laugh, stumbling over your boots and Luke catches you like he was never meant to let you go in the first place. The leather of his jacket is musky and his hair is buzzed. 

Either you were wasted or uncaring of who he was (both), you toss him your car keys and climb into the passenger seat. It’s a silent ride to your apartment besides you giving him the directions and Luke wonders how bad he must have hurt you for you to lay out for a stranger and waste away like this. But he’s the farthest thing from a stranger, even in this error in time and you’re still the daughter of the god of wine so after the third time you try to put your key in the lock he helps you because he hopes you’ll let him in.

“Y’know Annie would get a kick out of your haircut. Come inside.”

You’ve always been able to see right through him.

He’s standing in the hallway with his hand around your waist and he’s already broken too many of the titan’s orders by being here, so he scoffs, “You’re not gonna remember this by morning.” But you leave the door open anyway, dragging him by the wrist and your hand still feels the same in his even after all this time. What more is there to resist when there’s not much left of him to lose? 

This is the last time, he reminds Kronos, and there are monstrous hands around his brain, but yours are still gently holding his heart. The little part of his soul that hasn’t been eaten away holds on for a bit longer, tethered to your being by the way your hands are tied.

“I can, if you want me to.” 

He looks ready for war, and he is— yet you have him following you around the tiny living room almost in a trace as your arms loop around his neck. Luke doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know if you’d want to see him sober, especially when his absence is still fresh for you.

“Baby you look different from the last time we met,” you slur, stepping onto his feet as he takes you for a spin around the coffee table, dancing in the quiet. He’s older than you’ve ever seen him, voice deeper and colder. This is not the boy that ran from you in the forest many months ago. This is a man who’s seen horrors you haven’t lived through yet. You can deduce that he’s the cause of them too.

“So do you. Though still as beautiful as I remember,” he whispers like he’ll get struck for saying it. Your eyes are unfocused as he inspects your face, still soft and young with hope. The titan grips his features now, almost burning through his sense of self—though it’s not tangible he wonders if you could see it.

“I see you all the time. I just… usually have to drink enough to make it feel real. I just miss you.”

He looks pained at your words, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard you. Luke pushes you towards your room, an aura of darkness spreading through him like fire but he relents, pushing past the flames. He’s on borrowed time now, but Luke would gladly waste those minutes tucking you into bed.

Lifting your arms up, he pulls an old shirt of his over your shoulders, and his eyes catch onto the fact that you’re still wearing the dragon scale necklace he made you. Luke digs through your medicine cabinet while you sloppily wash your face and his calloused hands rub serums and moisturizer into your cheeks like how you taught him once upon a time. These are the things he won’t forget. Kronos can take it all away, as long as he gets to keep you. You lean against his chest and shut your eyes, scared that if you open them again he won’t be there.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Are you mine?”

“I’m always going to be yours,” he says with no hesitation, “Four years later, and there is still not one living thing worth losing you,” he says, lips chasing after your fingertips as you trace his jaw. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes survey your room and he finds traces of you that he’s missed as he rubs your back lovingly like he has all the time in the world.

Your hands cup his face, making him look at you, and he surrenders himself to you as you pull him into a kiss. He’s a ticking time bomb about to detonate in your arms. The warnings that Kronos is beating into his head is nothing compared to the pain of knowing he won’t be with you for much longer. And he kisses you like he could save you from his blaze by doing so, lips and tongue and shattered breath saying I’m here, and this is real. Maybe your worst vice is not being able to wean yourself off the taste of him.

“Tell me what I need to hear. Even if it’s not true…Even if you’re not real,” you say between gasps, and your position on his lap makes him wonder why he’d ever give the world up and burn it down when it’s sitting right here and staring at him with violet eyes.

“It’s always going to be you and me. I’ll love you until the end of my days and then some.”

You laugh in the way that drives him crazy—though he already is, for loving you still. Luke lost all sense of himself when he left camp four years ago. All that remains is you, pushing him so that his back hits the bedspread. He lets you consume what’s left of him, and he’s on fire.

You wake up the next morning with a jolt. It’s still winter, and you’re still alone but despite the chill, you feel warm.

ii. autumn years (with a familiar visitor who finally shows up on time)

Knock, knock.

There’s someone at the door, but your date isn’t supposed to be here for another 10 minutes.

“Babe, someone’s here for you!” your roommate Jo calls out, and you tell her it’s fine to let them in.

The pantyhose clings to the lotion on your thighs and you fix the bracelet on your wrist, stepping out from the bathroom hollering, “You’re early, Kit! Don’t tell me you’re skipping to the good part; I’m a lady i–”

“Who’s Kit?”

Luke’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom and his eyes flit to the reflection of your naked back peeking through the undone zipper of your dress. You look stunning, lips painted red and eyes smoky, but you’re also furious. Too bad he’s always thought you looked extra hot when you’re mad.

“None of your business. As you can see, I don’t exactly have the time for this, Castellan.”

He shrugs, closing the door behind him gently and with the raise of his brow, Luke is leering at you like a teenage boy. Respectfully, of course. The glint of celestial bronze against his hip reminds you who he’s become though.

“I’ll make the time if you say the words, Trouble.”

Sighing, you step forward, but then he does that thing again from the last time you saw him out on sea, twisting the crick in his neck like he has to resist your touch.

“You’re still funny. Some old habits die hard I guess,” you scoff, turning and lifting your hair out of the way so that he can zip you up. He opts to not touch you, sliding the dress closed until it fits against your body. You think you can feel his fingers ghost above your skin, and goosebumps rise where he leaves and his breath is warm on the back of your neck.

“Leave your weapons at the door. I run a tight ship, unlike you.” 

Gliding away from him while his hands are still in the air, you turn and sit at the edge of your bed, crossing your legs as you nod at him. Luke picks up the pair of heels next to where he sets the sword against the wall, and like it’s nothing out of the sort, he gets on his knees. You offer a foot to him while he speaks, “I could tell by the taser on your bedside table. You’ve killed monsters before, why a taser?”

There’s freckles on his tanned cheeks and he smells like the sun. You wonder what he’s done to come see you tonight.

“I’ve found out that not all monsters are mythical. When…are you?”

His eyes dart away from yours, securing the buckles on your ankles, and his touch sears through the mesh of your pantyhose.

“A few months ahead.”

There’s an eyelash on his nose, and your finger reaches out to touch it, but he flinches away. Face pulling into a frown, you spit, “You never slow down enough to let me catch up with you, huh?”

You can hear the microwave whirring in the kitchen, your roommate none the wiser of the sound of two hearts breaking. The both of you suddenly realize this is the first time you two have been alone (and the same age) since he left camp. There’s a silent question of if it will ever happen again as he gets up from the floor.

“So you’re seeing other people. Must’ve been easy, h—”

You punch him in the face before he finishes speaking, and all he can do is laugh. You would never let him off so easily.

“Fuck you. What, you think you can just hop in here and act like everything’s okay? What do you want, Castellan? For me to grovel at your feet and beg for you to fix what you broke?”

And you’re right, he supposes. This is the closest to peace that you’ll get in this life you’ve created without him. He won’t be able to take you on nice dinner dates like Kit can, or hold your hand without feeling like fate is going to smite him for existing. You scoff at the lack of his response.

“What happens next?”

Luke watches you chew on your lip, and even if he shouldn’t touch you in fear that you’ll will away his reason for defecting, by the gods does he want to.

“What do you mean?” he mutters. The cord of his necklace is tucked into your dress now that he looks closer.

“If I’m right,” you say (and it’s rare that you’re not), “each version of you that comes to see me knows less, and each time I see you I learn more. You were 23 last time. Why didn’t you see me at 22?” You know he won’t have an answer, but this is the only time you’ll be able to ask the real him. The one that’s yours, just a few steps ahead.

“There’s already been a lot that’s happened since I last saw you.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” you offer him, like he hasn’t already. He can feel the bruise blooming on his cheekbone and he grimaces with what he’s about to say.

“Never intentionally. I’ll try not to.”

It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth and you feel stupid with how empty you feel just watching him. He’s made a home of you, choosing moments in time to visit, but when he inevitably leaves, then what? Luke taught you how to be a home, forgetting you exist until it’s convenient and now there are things about yourself that you can’t unlearn yet don’t know what to do with.

Your roommate knocks on your door asking if you want a shot of vodka before your date starts, and Luke is already walking towards it since he’s overstayed his welcome. He raises his sword to open a portal but you shake your head.

“Go out the way you came,” you swallow, fiddling with the copper pendant around your neck, “and take the purple umbrella in the hall. It’s raining outside.”

When you walk into the kitchen moments later, the front door shuts gently and Jo’s sitting at the table with a mouthful of ramen noodles.

“Is he warming up the car? Your date’s hot as fuck, babe,” she grins, steam coating her glasses.

Knock, knock.

Your phone buzzes and there’s another knock at the door. Kit is 15 minutes late.

iii. auld lang syne (ringing in the new year with an old friend, or more)

Your apartment is filled with friends and acquaintances, but who the fuck cares anyway? There’s 10 minutes to midnight and you’re crossed out of your mind. Holding onto a half-empty bottle of prosecco, your heels clomp over to the window in the living room as you crawl onto the fire escape. 

Clack, clack.

The air is chilly as you hug yourself, and you hear someone step out onto the stairs behind you. 

“What are you doing out here alone?”

You sigh, not even turning to look at him, “What are you doing here, period?”

He takes the bottle of prosecco out of your hands, making you swivel your head to look at him as he takes a big gulp. He’s younger again, and it makes you laugh at how fucked up your luck must be to never be able to see him when you want. It’s always been on Luke’s terms.

“You’re too young to be drinking that,” you drawl, knees bumping against his when he takes a seat next to you. Long Island is quiet at night, and the lack of city lights is nice when you can see the stars so clearly. Music blares through your JBL speaker in the living room, and the sound of cheers gets louder when The Neighborhood starts playing.

“We used to do worse,” he laughs, but something in it sounds hollow. The breeze picks up and you shiver, taking the bottle back from him and swigging it.

“All these visits…you sure do know how to make a girl feel special. But you never come in the summer.” 

He clears his throat, before leaning back on his elbows, “ I haven’t gone a summer without you since we were 14.” This Luke doesn’t know what’s ahead of him yet, but you realize that he’s right. Even now, he keeps up the habit of pissing you off and raising hell on Camp Half-Blood every summer. You notice he’s not wearing his camp beads, and he notices you shiver again in the chill. 

Clack, clack.

Your heels rattle the metal of the fire escape as you readjust your position. He takes off his jacket to sling it around your shoulders and neither of you realize you’ve missed the countdown until fireworks burst in the sky above you. The red and blue reflect off the planes of his face, but what stands out to you is the orange of his shirt, and you comprehend now where he just came from.

“I had to see you. I didn’t get to say goodbye when I left,” he says, and you take another sip before handing him the bottle to finish off. The only new years’ kiss you’re getting is through the lips that hold the last remaining drops of prosecco. 

You nod, remembering it all too well as you both watch the fireworks in silence. He wasn’t able to watch them properly the last time he was with you, Annie, and Percy just a few hours prior.

iv. spring cleaning (only big days are ahead for the both of you) 

It’s quiet in your college apartment this morning. 

The moving boxes are half-packed and stacked against the wall of the entryway and the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the French press on your kitchen counter permeates the air. Perhaps the idea of caffeine is the last thing on your mind, hands twitching as they smooth over the black polyester of your graduation regalia. There’s a few hours still before the ceremony, but you’ve never liked being unprepared. Pollux is driving your dad down the Island because despite the war you’ll inevitably be fighting in once you cross the stage and get your degree, D specifically told Zeus that he’d wage another if he was made to miss your big day.

Parting your hair to fit under the ugly graduation cap, the tassel swings in front of your face as you grab a few bobby pins from the side table. A golden medallion of Castor’s smiling face almost whips into your cornea and you stifle a laugh. D said in his Iris message last night that all three of them would cheer so loud you’d be able to hear it from Elysium (and honestly, jokes aside—he probably has a way of making that happen). A staggered breath leaves your lungs, and you’re filled with anticipation, though you’re not sure what for. 

Time is a thief and you know that too well by now. After all, you’ve spent the past four years running from the truth of your heritage—dodging monsters between study sessions and grief welcoming you every time you come home. Four years later, and who are you trying to fool? While walking across that stage later you might as well take a bow. After all, your ex-boyfriend is the reason why there’s going to be a war of both blood and ichor, mortal and undying and still, you find yourself in the middle of it. You’ve found yourself fielding questions this last semester like dodging celestial bronze, the questions always a little too close to home and the answers you give are too entertaining to be considered the truth.

So, what are your future plans? 

Oh no big deal, just going home and dealing with generations-old family drama. If it drives me crazy enough I might enlist! 

Gods. 

How do you even articulate that these past few years were those future plans? That you didn’t expect to be alive this long, much less have the comfort of feeling secure enough to dream… It’s been years since you’ve had a good dream to work towards with a boy you once knew holding your hand through it all. But the expensive piece of paper you’ll be receiving later feels fake somehow. 

Who does that belong to? Surely not you…surely, someone who dreams without bearing the weight that comes with it. Someone who doesn’t have to look over their shoulder everytime they walk to work in the mornings, who can convince children that monsters aren’t real without having to lie. Psychology was a great field to learn from the mortal side of things��to know the reasons why brain chemistry affects us so deeply instead of just willing it away with the touch of your fingers. You like making people feel better. But who can ever do that for you?

A gust of wind sweeps through your room, the multicolored tassels hanging off your neck swaying from the force and you shut your eyes knowing he’s there again. Citrus and musk, and something that’s just him. He knocks over your hamper, cussing under his breath until his eyes follow your motionless figure in front of the mirror.

“Shit. I can explain, um… I thought you’d still be asleep,” Luke sputters, his converse falling into your laundry pile like quicksand. He bends over, stuffing your pajamas and sweatshirts back into the bin with fidgety hands as his eyes take a quick scan of your room. There are no pictures of you and him on the bedside table. For a moment, he wonders what that means but then his cheeks redden when he picks up a pair of your lacy underwear. He shoves that down too.

“Big day today. You know I can’t sleep when I know something is about to happen,” you smile wistfully, and you keep your eyes shut for longer, because like this, it’s almost like he’s actually there in real time. In a world where things went your way, this would be his apartment too, and his clothes would be scattered around your shared bedroom like how they used to back in cabin 12. You always used to put them on The Chair, as he would call it—but Luke’s known to make a mess of your life regardless of your efforts.

“When isn’t there? Something’s always going on when you’re around, Trouble.”

Click. Scattered memories flicker in your head like images through a view-finder, spinning through your vision as you hear the sound of his laughter, gently tapping away at your heart again. Click. In the ones you pre-selected, he’s draped in sunlight, honey eyes sweet and kind, and his kisses are perpetual instead of an indulgence. Click. He’s always wearing faded orange, worn-out, but most of all well-loved. Click.

You open your eyes and they meet his own in the mirror. Time stops for once, letting you catch your breath.

Right now, he looks just as you like to remember him, as you knew him four years ago. Multicolored camp beads are resting easily against his broad neck instead of weighing him down, and he’s wearing the red converse his dad gave him. He’s too young, and so in love with you that it blinds him, but even then…now, he knows the look on your face and it makes him ask, “It’s not my first time visiting you is it?”

“You’re usually more discreet, the door right behind me wouldn’t have been your first option. But you’ve never failed to surprise me before. Tell me about your day, Luke.”

A hesitant smile crosses his face as he sheathes Backbiter against his hip, adjusting under the weight like he’s not used to it yet, and then he speaks, “We ate strawberries in the fields today, straight off the vine, but I argued that the ones you conjure will always taste sweeter to me. You smushed one against my face and I carried you home. You?”

You nod, turning around to face a ghost of your past, and the both of you meet in the middle only a hairs distance away as you admire each other.

“I graduate today. Annabeth’s driving up with her boyfriend and the rest of my family is coming to celebrate.”

He doesn’t know of Percy yet, of Chris’ insanity, of your brother��s death, and the immense hurt he’s caused everyone. The smile that lights up his face makes you realize he thinks he's still a part of this—with you. And you miss him—even when he’s right here, fuck, you miss all the versions of him that have come to visit, even the ones you don’t know of yet. Tears brim your waterline as you take a deep breath; the last thing you want to do is scare him away.

“This was his promise to me. By showing me something I was sure of—and I always knew you’d graduate and make it big. Wanted to see it for myself, baby,” he grins, tangling his fingers with yours like your strings of fate, and though you know the answer to your next question you still take a chance, just in case.

“If I tell you what’s happened since…you. Would it be too late to change your mind?”

“Trouble, do you want me to? Kronos’ plan is already set in motion. I think…” he swallows, and your vision blurs without your permission as tears start to fall. Through the film over your violet eyes, Luke frowns and pulls your fingertips to his lips, kissing each one. He hasn’t done that in years.

“Did I make a mistake? Do I lose you, in the end?”

“Angelface…” you sniff, leaning your cheek against his hand, “You were so scared of losing me that you didn't even stop to think of what losing you would do to me. I lost you so long ago, Luke. And you’re not mine anymore. I don't think you have been in a long time.” In these heels, your forehead is closer to his lips so he kisses that too, hoping that somehow this time he can will away your pain instead of his. He doesn’t know what to do but hold you until you say something again.

“I’ll tell you something you need to hear. And no matter what you say or think, babe—it’s the truth. Even without all the glory in the world I would still be yours. I still am, even if I can’t bear it.”

Though he’s holding you, it somehow feels like the opposite—a purer version of him in your embrace while he holds the broken pieces of you together with his golden touch. Right now, you look into honey instead of gold. The both of you look at each other in the mirror melded together like kintsugi, something good still shining through the cracks of you two together like this.

The sound of keys jangling in the lock of the front door lifts you from his embrace, and with one look you both know its time for him to go; Luke’s brows furrow as he mutters, “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this, and we’ll be together. I promise.” You nod anyway, hoping at least one of you believe it.

“Go home, Luke. She…I still need you. I’m always gonna.”

He’s already got Backbiter in hand and one foot through time when he looks back at you. Your voice sounds a lot like how it does when you tell him you love him. Luke wonders how long it’s been since you did. Your bedroom door opens with a bang and some laughter.

“Hey troublemaker, you left the dryer on! All your clothes are gonna shrink,” Jo grins, peeking her head through the doorway of your room and she’s looking at you in your graduation gown standing there alone.

“Were you on the phone? Who were you talking to?”

It’s quiet in the apartment again. Your fingernails make indents in your palms, bunching up into fists before you let go. A sad smile crosses your face as you let the settling wind kiss your cheeks, before reality kicks in and everything settles back to how it was before. 

“Just someone I used to know.”

—

“And no one can ever figure out what you want, and you won’t tell them, and you realize the one person in the world who loves you isn’t the one you thought it would be, and you don’t trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy.” -Richard Siken

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?)

1/2 luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko@bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303  @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

[mommahughes19-23]

Hi love!

Could you do an insta edit for Nico and his girlfriend getting a puppy? A labradoodle or something cutesy like that. And then all his teammates begging for him to take the puppy to practice.

P.s. The first time I read you referring to him as Swiss string cheese made me snort so loud hahah.

Also, happy birthday for your daughter!

Puppy Love - N.H

@nicohischier : meet the newest nj devil Schatz Hischier

tagged : @username.yn

username.yn : omg look at our son 🫨🫨

jackhughes : so when's he coming to practice .. best birthday present ever❤️❤️❤️

↪ dawson1417 : @nicohischier @jackhughes NOT ONE TEAM will stand a chance with him in net 🤧🤧🤧🤧

↪ lhughes_06 : y'all I get to hold him first since im the youngest 😍

jesperbratt : PLEASE TELL ME Y.N IS GONNA LET YOU BRING HIM TO THE RINK PLEASE😭😭😭😭😭😭

↪ username.yn : @jesperbratt do you want me to answer this truthfully?🤨🤨

↪ nicohischier : @jesperbratt I have been begging and she won't budge🥵

tmeier96 : its ok guys lemme talk to y.n Ill have him in full gear by tomorrow 🤑🤑🤑

↪ username.yn : @tmeier96 touch my son without permission and you may not be able to participate next season😤😤

ninahischier : Ach du lieber Gott!! Ich bin eine Tante? Ich werde weinen, Mama und ich buchen gerade einen Flug zu euch! 🤩😭 (oh my god!! I'm an aunty? I'm going to cry, mom and I are booking a flight to come see you guys right now!)

↪ tmeier96 : Du bist ein bisschen dramatisch, findest du nicht? @ninahischier🤡 (you're a bit dramatic don't you think?)

↪ ninahischier : Verpiss dich🖕🏻🖕🏻 (fuck off)

tofff73 : BRO YOU HAVE TO BRING HIM BY THE RINK WHEN YOUR BACK FROM CZECHIA

John.marino97 : BRING HIM BRING HIM BRING HIM BRING HIM

pally_18 : YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO lil Schatz welcome

ehaula : @nicohischier so when am I babysitting

bssmith : 🐶🐶🐶🐶

A.N (ITS LONG SORRY BUT READ): OK THIS. (need I say more) LIKE THIS SEXY SWISS STRING CHEESE WITH NOT LEAVE MY BRAIN OMG. I HOPE HIS CHEEK IS OK TOO. anywhooo its a little short and not that exciting but its currently 10:30pm and im going to go to bed to dream of all my hockey husbands but I wanted to get this out asap.

TELL ME NICO DOESNT JUST SCREAMMMMMM SWISS CHEESE TO YOU UGH. alsooooooooooooooooo I feel like his sister speaks English I just think that she would also comment in German to her brother and idk makes it spicy.

I mightttt re-work some of it (as I say about every post I do..) I dont know yet how I feel about it hehe

ALSO JASMINE (MY DAUGHTER) SAYS THANK YOU VERY VERY MUCH ! she can't wait to go to daycare on Tuesday and tell everyone that another internet bestie wished her happy birthday!!!

I hope you like it babes <3

xoxoxoxoxox, M

Tags : @lukey-pookie-hughes43 and @skylershines

[tracycloud]

COOKING FOR ROBERTA

(Part 3)

Roberta's birthday, I really don't remember which one and it doesn't matter, made me a different person over the next few months, a new, lively, horny, lustful, self-determined young woman. I think Roberta changed too. Of course, I can't really say for sure because I didn't know her before.

When Roberta left the kitchen - I was still standing with my legs spread, wet and horny, panting and sweaty, leaning against the kitchen table. My hands were covered in tomatoes crushed with lust, their juice slowly dripping onto the kitchen floor, perhaps mixing with mine. What kind of sauce would that make? I thought, slowly coming back to myself.

Something magical had just happened to me. I wasn't quite sure what it was, but I felt incredibly at ease. Without thinking further, I cut up my panties with the kitchen scissors, threw them in the bin, took off my bra, which still had my boobs hanging out of it, and threw it in too.

Then I started cooking. It was cooking like in a wonderful, hot dream. My naked pussy rubbed against the denim. You couldn't miss the wet spots, nor the nipples of my little boobs poking out of the sweat-stained T-shirt.

Of course, I started with the ragu Bolognese first. This wonderful sauce made from minced beef and pork, pancetta, fat milk, onions, celery, carrots and tomato paste had to simmer for at least 2 hours.

Now for the antipasti.

My cooking had become an exhilarating flow. Everything I did made me happy and horny.

As I was working on the eggplants stuffed with tomatoes, capers, olives and garlic, Roberta quietly crept into the kitchen.

She pressed herself firmly against my back. I felt her soft, full breasts, then her strong, caressing hands on my boobs.

“Mhhh so nice and small and firm. Good thing you took your bra off. You don't need that with me anyway, my horny little chef,” she whispered in my right ear.

I could feel her breathing, goose bumps ran all over my body and I moaned softly with pleasure. As her hand slowly slid down, undid the top buttons of my jeans and felt its way to my wet center, I spread my legs as if automatically.

She breathed tenderly: “How submissive you are. Ohhhh, you got rid of your panties straight away. You are such a wonderful cooking whore.”  Her fingers slid between my vulva lips, pentrating me slightly. “You're so wet. I'd love to fuck you right here.

“Jaaaaa, fuck me.... pleaaaseeee..... whenever you want. I'm all yours”. I had never said or even thought such sentences before.

But every word felt right, it was an incredible moment of happiness and never before had I been so completely close to myself.

Roberta sensed my devotion, kissed me tenderly on the back of my neck and said nothing. Her fingers, wet from my vulva, reached for a black olive that she pushed into my mouth, glistening with my own juice.

I licked her fingers, which she immediately slid back between my pussy lips until they were wet again, wetting another olive, which she then slipped into her own mouth.

I tried to keep working, chopping the fresh oregano into small pieces. Her fingers explored me, my wetness. I felt them deep inside me, measuring me, taking possession of me.

“Keep going, cute cooking whore,” she whispered in my ear. A little tap on my clit that made me cry out in pleasure and devotion. She left.

I stood back at the kitchen table with my legs wide open.  I was happy. My juice was oozing out of me. My jeans were wet like after a rain shower. I was soooo happy.

The ragu smelled delicious. It sizzled gently on the old-fashioned stove. I put the stuffed eggplants in the huge oven and started preparing the potato cakes with saffron, the bruschetta with diced tomatoes and olive paste last, as well as the radiccio, which I would fry in olive oil, the green beans with anchovies, parsley and garlic and also the porcini mushrooms.

Everything should be on the table at the same time, including the Ragu Bolognese.

[softiejoon]

HOW SKZ WOULD REACT TO BEING CALLED ‘BABY BOY’ | HYUNG LINE

pairing ; skz (hyung line) x reader

genre ; fluff, comfort

tags ; domestic!au, established relationship!au

warnings ; hyunjin is in need of some comfort, all soft and fluffy though (no angst)

summary ; calling skz baby boy <3

word count ; ~ 1k

a/n ; it’s my birthday so i thought i’d give you all a gift :) enjoy the result of my brain rot

[ maknae line ]

if you enjoy my work, please consider supporting me ☕️

.・゜-: ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　✧　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ :-゜・．

chan

oh he definitely likes it

it's a term of endearment you reserve for moments when he's feeling particularly soft and cuddly

as much as chan takes care of others, he deserves to be taken care of too

you'll find him wrapped up in his blankets in bed, hair mussed from sleep

he's still getting used to the daylight, blinking slowly until he recognises your figure in the doorway

he lights up, beautiful sleepy smile making an appearance as an arm stretches out towards you

"hi baby boy," you smile. "sleep well?"

chan doesn't respond verbally, only making a feigned effort to get up

but instead he ends up beckoning you towards him with grabby hands

you laugh quietly, shaking your head as you approach

when you're close enough to reach, chan wraps his arms around you, pressing his cheek to your torso

he mumbles into your clothes

"would've slept better with you here"

you run your fingers gently through his hair, eliciting small noises of contentment from him

"well i'm here now"

chan hums, eyes closed

"how about some cuddles?"

you're pulled into bed before you have a chance to repeat the question

chan snuggles up to you instantly, burying his face in your neck and pressing himself as close to you as he can

and you know you won't be moving anytime soon

your hand resumes its course of action through his curls, which only lulls chan further into slumber

he sighs happily against your skin, whispering your name as he drifts off

"sleep well, baby boy"

minho

gets flustered

use with caution

if he's grumpy or not in the mood, the softness of the term will definitely throw him off

he'll go into flight or fight mode just out of instinct

(we all know this man is gonna choose fight)

he's not throwing hands with you

but he will be resistant to your affection

he doesn't actually want to be

but there's this little voice in his head telling him he has to – lest he turn into a complete mess

but if you catch him at the right time

a perfect mix between cuddly and clingy

he'll be completely submissive to your coddling

"hey there's my baby boy"

you walk over to where he's laying on the couch and take a seat

he automatically shifts his head into your lap, hooking an arm under your knees to get comfortable

"did you have a good day?"

"mmm"

"is that a yes?"

"mmm"

in these moments, minho resembles his cats more than a human boyfriend

he directs his pretty doe eyes towards you, making a wordless request before placing his head back down in your lap

you smile and begin to stroke his hair, fingertips fluttering across his head and down to the nape of his neck

minho absolutely keens at all the attention

and he's more than happy to stay here like this forever

"you've worked hard today, baby boy. you can rest now"

changbin

it makes him all shy but he loves it

especially when he's not feeling well

you unlock the front door one day, unsettled by the lack of noise and absence of a sweeping hug in greeting

"changbin?"

you duck your head into the kitchen and his office before working your way to the bedroom

you knock gently on the door, which is slightly ajar, before pushing it open

"bin–?"

beneath the sheets, changbin's built form is small and curled up, a tuft of dark hair peeking out

"hey, what's wrong, baby boy?"

he lowers the blankets from his face, groaning quietly about being tired and cold

and you place a hand against his burning forehead

"you have a fever, bin. give me a second, i'll be right back"

you grab the medication and a glass of water from the kitchen before returning to his side

"here, darling, drink this"

once he's done, you take the empty glass from him and stroke his cheek

his hand comes up to hold yours, fingers gripping your own tightly

"don't worry, baby boy. 'm not going anywhere. get some sleep, okay?"

changbin nods and, before long, he's falling asleep, your hand secured in his

hyunjin

blushes profusely and hides his face behind his hands

"hey don't do that, wanna see your pretty face baby boy"

you take a seat next to him, tucking a stray piece of tousled hair behind his ear

he'd had a bad day, eyes a little puffy from crying

and all you wanted to do was make him feel better

you reach into your bag and pull out his favourite snacks you'd picked up on your way home

with the way his eyes light up, a peek of his beautiful smile emerging

you can't help the warmth that spreads through your chest

"want me to put a movie on too?"

he nods and you instruct him to get comfy amongst the blankets while you set up a feel-good film

when you look back at hyunjin swaddled up like a dumpling, you can't help the smile that settles on your face

"wh-what...?"

"nothing baby boy, just love you a lot"

he buries his face in the blankets at that, shy, and whines

"hurry up so you can come cuddle me"

you click your tongue at him playfully as you wander back to his side

"no 'i love you too'?" you tease as you start the movie

he nuzzles into you, so close you can feel his heartbeat steadying, his body relaxing, as he melts in your hold

you stroke his hair, placing a kiss on his forehead

he cranes his head to look at you, whispering

"love you lots you know"

"i know baby boy, i love you too"

~

© softiejoon | let me know what you think | support me here

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

7 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙚𝙚! 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙗𝙞𝙣: 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧 — 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣:

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 1.4k

𝙖/𝙣: happy birthday changbin!! <3

𝙩/𝙬: soft and rough tickles

𝒍𝒆𝒆: changbin

𝙡𝙚𝙧: skz

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkedloveandlostpromises @lajanaa @jungwon-is-the-one @makebelieveyouregoodenough @soap143 @chxnsdiaryy @skznccmlee @moony-9 @sunny-117

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐛s🖤

“Happy birthday dear Changbinnniee~” The members sang. “Happy birthday to you!” 

Binnie smiled down fondly at the cake, candles glowing with a faint light as he took a deep breath and blew them out. 

Changbin had just finished blowing out the candles on his birthday cake, the room echoing with the applause. The lights were dimmed to create a festive atmosphere, and the energy in the room was electric.

As the last of the candles were extinguished, the bandmates began to shout their wishes and playfully tease Changbin about getting older. 

Binnie’s eyes sparkled with gratitude and mischief, before he heard a certain voice. 

Bang Chan, ever the ringleader, looked at his fellow members with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Alright, guys, time for the real birthday fun!" He announced. 

The room erupted into laughter and chaos as Jisung, Hyunjin, and the others started to close in on Changbin, who was caught off guard. His laughter turned into surprised yelps as he tried to evade their playful advances.

“You can’t beat me! I’m your hyung!” He yelped playfully…but the members had something else in mind. 

“Oooo our hyung’s turning twenty five! That means twenty five minutes of tickles for you!” Seungmin cheered, the members immediately grabbing at all of his limbs and pulling them apart. 

“We love you and every part of you, so let’s focus on every spot, one at a time!” Chan called, earning an enthusiastic agreement from every member, except Binnie, of course. 

“Wait!! What?! Nonono, don’t tickle me!” He shrieked, nevertheless groaning when he was pinned apart anyway. 

“Neck!” Jisung called, and Chan took his seat on Binnie’s waist. 

Fingers brushed slowly and lovingly across his collarbones. 

“Hehehehe!! YOU GUYS ARE SOHO BAD!!” Changbin lost himself to his uncontrollable giggles. 

“Look at these shoulders! And these arms…god, I know you work so hard on them, hyung, Let us love you.” Felix sighed, hands ticklishly massaging along the muscle. 

Changbin squealed, a cute noise as he tried to squirm away. 

They transitioned to his armpits. Channie, always the instigator, was the first to place his fingers gently under Changbin’s arms. His touch was soft and teasing, just enough to make the rapper squirm without overwhelming him. “Nohoho!!”

Chan’s fingers began to lightly explore the sensitive area of Binnie’s armpits, the reaction was immediate. Changbin let out a soft, surprised giggle, his body twitching slightly.

Jisung used the tips of his fingers to make slow, deliberate circles around the edges of Changbin’s armpits, while Hyunjin applied a gentle, fluttering touch, varying his speed and pressure. 

The combination created a delicate tickling effect that had Changbin’s laughter bubbling up in gentle, musical bursts.

Felix continued his ticklish onslaught on Bin’s arms, while the others continued their soft ministrations on his neck. 

“Ohohoho gohohohosh…thahahat tihickles too bahahahhad!!” The rapper squeaked flusteredly. 

“Let’s go to the ribs! Have fun, hyung!~” Jisung called. He gently brushed his fingers along Changbin’s ribs, causing an immediate, intense reaction. Binnie’s body tensed, and his laughter shot up an octave, his eyes widening in both anticipation and dread.

“Wahait…wait, NOT THE RIBS!” He shrieked as Chan placed his fingertips on the area. Changbin pleaded, his voice already filled with suppressed giggles as he begged for mercy. 

But Chan only grinned wider, his fingers beginning their relentless dance along Changbin’s ribcage.

“OHOHO NOHOHO HEHEHEHEHELP!! PLEHEHEHEASE IHIHI CAHAHAN’T!!” Changbin screamed. Jisung joined in, gently scraping along the bones. With two sets of hands working their way along his ribcage, Binnie’s laughter became a continuous, breathless sound. 

Each touch seemed to heighten the rapper’s ticklishness, sending him into spasms of laughter. 

His hands instinctively tried to shield his ribs, but the members skillfully maneuvered around him, ensuring that every inch of his ticklish ribs were covered.

“PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! YOU GUYS SUHUHUHUCK!! FUHUHUCK YOUHUHUUHUHUHUU!!” Changbin howled.

“Aaaand to the belly!” Jisung motioned. “Nohoho…!” Bin pleaded. 

“But we love you here! And we need to show our love.” Jisung retorted. 

Changbin’s pupils dilated at the ace’s words, pleadingly staring up at each member for mercy. Sadly, he received none. 

Hyunjin focused on using his fingertips to create gentle, rapid taps, alternating between light and slightly firmer touches. Meanwhile, Jeongin stroked his fingertips along the rapper’s sensitive sides. 

The combination of techniques made it nearly impossible for Changbin to predict the ticklish attack. He shrieked again and burst into more iconic laughter. 

Jisung playfully blew raspberries on Changbin’s belly, the sensation sending shock waves of ticklishness through him.

“One…two…” The ace began counting with each raspberry. 

“WHYHYHYHY?!” Binnie cried. 

“You’re turning twenty five, meaning twenty five raspberries!” Hannie replied cheerfully. 

“GOHOHOHOHOSH I HAHAHAHATE YOU!!”

“Say you love your tummy, and we’ll move on.” Seungmin called, and Binnie whined pitifully though his hysterics. 

“STOHOP STOP!! I CAHAHAHANT TAKE IT!!” Changbin gasped between fits of laughter, trying to catch his breath. But his pleas only seemed to fuel the others’ enthusiasm.

“Nine…ten…”

“JIHIHISUHUUHUNG PLEHEHEHEASEE!!”

“Not until you admit how amazing you are!” Minho shouted, continuing his relentless tickling of the bunny’s thighs. 

The combined tickling efforts had Changbin’s laughter filling the room, his face flushed with joy and helplessness. He attempted to protect himself, but the members were having too much fun to stop.

“FIHIHIHINE!! IHIITS BEAUTFUHUHULL!!”

“Next is thighs!” Hyunjin called, and Changbin looked at him in betrayal. 

The light, teasing touches along his legs immediately had Changbin gasping, his body tensing up in response. The reaction was intense. 

His laughter started as high-pitched giggles but quickly descended into more desperate, uncontrollable sounds.

“Ohoho n-nohohohoho—FUHUHUHUHUHUCK YOU GUHUHUHUHUYSSS!!” He screeched, trying to slam his legs closed, but the maknaes had him pinned. 

Minho smiled gently at the boy from above. His hands were scribbling up and down the thighs as Chan squeezed them rhythmically. The result was a mix of laughter and frantic movements as Changbin’s body twisted and jerked, desperately trying to escape the tickling.

The relentless torture had Changbin’s laughter becoming a near-constant stream of high-pitched cries. 

His body was in a constant state of disarray, his legs flailing as he tried to shield himself, but the members skillfully kept him pinned down. The tickling on his poor, sensitive thighs was causing him to laugh so hard that he began to lose control.

“AAAHAHAAAHAHAAA!!” He screamed. Jeongin and Seungmin only helped, squeezing his kneecaps. 

“Gosh, these beautiful thighs. How I envy you, hyung. They’re beautiful, and so soft. I could just use it as a pillow all day.” Seungmin softly whispered into Binnie’s ear, abandoning his spot near his legs. 

All he got in response was a flustered squeal and a bright red face from his hyung, who was now beginning to practically die from the hands roaming his body. 

“P-Plehehehease!! I cahahahant tahahake ihihit!!” Changbin begged between breaths, his voice strained and barely coherent. His laughter was now interspersed with gasps and almost delirious giggles.

Noticing this odd reaction, the members slowed down in concern, still keeping him pinned but definitely giving him a break. 

After many kisses and whispered compliments, Changbin had regained control of his breathing, eyes dropping in slight exhaustion. He now knew what the others had been planning for so long. His birthday surprise was the others tickling him until he cried. 

“Last spot!” Jisung chirped, sliding across the floor to place one of Bin’s socked feet in his lap. Hyunjin ran over to the other side to do the same. 

“NO!! Plehease, just let me go!” Binnie whined, face flushing a bright pink as he bit his lip, staring at Chan pleadingly. 

Jisung gently began his torment, dancing his fingers across Changbin’s sole and sending the boy into a bout of frenzied giggles. Hyunjin joined in at the other end, trying his hardest to match Jisung’s rhythm. 

“Stohohohop!! I cahahahant hahahandle ihihit!!” 

“We need to show hyung how much we truly love him. C’mon guys! Just tickle him wherever.” Jisung shrugged, loving the way Binnie’s face lit up in a hysterical scream as hands began to scribble, squeeze, prod, and knead his already tingly body. 

“NOHOHOHO PLEHEHEHEASE!!” Changbin’s laughter turned into a full-blown cry of ticklish torment. 

“You’re so cute and sensitive~” Seungmin cooed, and Innie added on. “Admit that you’re loving this and you love yourself and we’ll stop.”

Changbin shook his head desperately, but he knew he couldn’t handle more. Especially as another member’s hands (he couldn’t tell who) began tickling the insides of his feet, causing him to shriek hysterically. 

“I LOHOHOHOVE THIHIHIS AND IHIHI LOHOHOVE MYSEHEHEHELF!! NOHOHOW PLEHEHEHEASE STOP!!”

Hands finally released him completely, and Changbin slumped bonelessly onto the carpet beneath him, exhaustion consuming him. 

The members gathered around in gentle formations, rubbing at his limbs and praising him fondly. 

Binnie sighed, a satisfied noise as he now understood the appeal of his birthday tickles. 

Maybe it was more torture than getting beaten up, but definitely a welcome torture. 

[gars-jasons-gf]

Gar Logan Headcannons in a Relationship with reader

titans!gar logan bc he's my comfort character and i love him

(also im in love with this gif rn so yeah)(also, again this is my first post so plsssss like support and stuff)(also, again, for the last time gif isn't mine)

Alright, before i even start let me just say that dating gar is like having a best friend. That is bc he is your best friend. Before you two even started dating he made sure to be your best friend so he could know everything about you. Your birthday, favorite food, favorite color, your background, he'll learn everything about you.

He is like the biggest softie ever. Like for a boy who can turn into a killing, murdering, scary ass tiger(even tho he avoids killing and that stuff) he is the softest and most caring and thoughtful out of everyone. Like we all know this. But he is has a massive soft spot for you like he is nice and stuff to his team mates but to you, he could be mid argument with someone and as soon as you walk into the room he'll look over at you and his whole expression will soften.

He just loves being around you and he'll find any excuse to be near or with you. Training, he'll def train with you. Missions, he personally asks Dick in private if you two can be on missions together. Cleaning, his excuse was "oh they'll definitely need help with folding the clothes." "they're literally folding her clothes only." "and it'll get the job done faster." There was def a time where he said he needed to go with you to take the bins out, because someone might jump you on your way to the bins.

Basically the point is he loves being around you.

So who did tell the other about their feelings first? Him. It came out by accident. During an argument. After a mission. In the rain. You both were arguing about you being hurt and not being able to go on the next mission after you had previously brought up the fact 'you could go on a mission right now.' He was quite concerned for you saying you were not ready. Clearing taking it a bit further then it needed to go. So when he said "it's because i care about you and you can't go on another mission this week." and you retaliated saying "it's not your choice." Then he finished it by saying "I love you, alright and you can't get hurt again this week, you almost died tonight." Leading you to smash your lips onto him.

After that kiss let's just say he was very happy and couldn't stop smiling. Even days after the kiss, he couldn't make eye contact without smiling or blushing. Leading some weird questions asked by the team. Eventually Gar told Connor who told Kory who told Dick who told Donna who told Dawn and Hank and somehow Jason found out. Then about a week after the kiss Gar popped the big question to you asking if you wanted to be his partner to which you said "yes." Bc y wouldn't you?

But, it takes like 3 weeks for one of you both to say the word. Like THE word. The Love word. It was him again. This time he was zoned out and staring at you when he said out loud "god y/n, i love you so much." to which you lifted your head up and looked at him with the biggest smile ever. He was panicking until you said it back. But you both can guarantee that Kory was in the room at the time and got it on video or Kory and Dick are watching you both through the security camera and then leaked it on the [yours and gar's ship name] group chat that they have for some reason.

Now dates. It's mostly take out food like pizza or thai. You'll both play video games most of the time and cuddle but that's something you both enjoy. That's something that brings you both joy eating, cuddling, playing video games it's all that you need.

Pt 2?????????

[the-family-business-83]

Be My Pumpkin?

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Type: One-shot

Pairing: Dean x Female!reader, no body type or ethnicity mentioned

Word count: 1,674

Summary: Dean doesn't always stop to have a normal moment very often, if at all. Ever since you came along, a lot of things have changed. And this year, you're the reason he remembers to have some fun on Halloween.

Warnings: None honestly. Just some possible spoilers if you haven't seen much of the show but I tried to keep it vague so it's not spoilery.

Dividers created by @firefly-graphics; cover image taken off of Pintrest

A/N: I wrote this at like 3am because I couldn't sleep and I wanted to write some fluffy Dean. I was feeling the Halloween vibes but I also kinda wanted to touch on season 8 post-Lisa feelings. I don't care if those makes sense because honestly I just wrote it to write something. Any and all mistakes are my own because I wrote those without a Beta or anyone to preview it before I posted it. I hope you guys like it because I kinda love it and I thought it was super cute. Anyway, enjoy! :3

Sometimes there were mundane things you did with Dean that brought back older memories. You didn't mean to, hell you didn't know half the time–and how could you, you weren't psychic. But you'd ask him to take the trash out with a tired sigh because it probably wasn't the first time you'd asked that, and sometimes it reminded him of Lisa. You got excited over every holiday and insisted that the bunker should be decorated even if Sam found it ridiculous, and it had him thinking back to a time when he and his brother made the best of a year. Come to think of it he couldn't remember the last time they actually sat down and celebrated a holiday that wasn't their birthdays, if you even counted those.

It was the middle of October, and you'd covered the bunker in whatever dollar store decorations you could find. Mini-skeleton garlands on the railings with little orange fairy lights, Halloween monster themed window clingers on every mirror or glass you could find, you'd even changed out the bathmats in the shower room to be those color-changing white ones that turn red with water. Sam had vetoed those though on the premise that they were a bit distasteful. Little did he know Dean had tucked them away for later pranks. But now you and Dean had gone to the grocery store for a supply run, and you were walking past the giant bin of pumpkins that they had. You didn't say anything beyond a happy little gasp and stopped to look at them. Some were small, some were huge, and some looked a little worse for the wear. They were all pumpkins in your book though and you were perfectly happy looking through them to find a good one.

Dean realized after a few moments that you weren't by his side anymore, because he turned to ask you what was next on the list. He frowned when he didn't see you, and stopped in his tracks as he did one of those half-circles around himself with the body language of where the hell did she go?; that was when you called out to him.

“Dean! Help me put this in the cart, it's heavy as shit.” You called out to him, huffing as you set the big, cartoonishly perfect for carving pumpkin back into the pile. You practically squinted at it like it had done something to offend you personally by not being easy to move.

The Winchester spun on his heels when he heard your voice, emerald hues taking a second or so to lock onto you before he relaxed a bit and made his way over to you. “Midnight already there Cinderella?” He teased, cocking a brow up.

“Ha, ha. Yeah except my prince ran away from me, imagine that.” You countered, rolling your eyes at him. You could see that tiny smirk on his lips already forming and you fought against one of your own as you raised your brows. “Would you just put it in the cart already?”

Dean chuckled a bit at her quip, he thought he was pretty hilarious now and then, and he liked to think she did too, at least sometimes. Glancing over at the pumpkin in question, his eyes raked across the others in the cardboard bin. “What do we even need one of these for?” He asked out of curiosity, one hand fiddling absently with one of them, poking and prodding at the orange gord before letting it fall back down to his side. Dean was what you might call a Halloween nerd, sure, but he didnt often partake in the activities associated with it, so the thought didn't really occur to him.

“To carve, Dean.” You began, as if it were an obvious thing. “You pick one too, and I think we should get one for Sam. He probably won't, I know, but at least the option would be there and besides, an extra pumpkin can't hurt. I mean look at em, they're pumpkins!” you rambled on excitedly and gestured to them as you spoke. Palms out and faced up, you waved them over the pumpkin bin as if presenting them like some proud mother of her star children.

After a moment or so, you noticed Dean hadn't said anything. It made you look at him, wondering why he was so quiet. Because generally, he wasn't. Not unless something was wrong, and that had you worried just a bit. “Dean?” You asked, a little quieter this time as you tried to catch his attention.

When Dean registered that you had been talking to him, he felt a little bad that he hadn't said anything. His eyes were glued to those pumpkins–the only thing she'd been talking about for several minutes now–in thought. He couldn't help it; he was trying to remember when was the last time, if ever, that he'd actually gone out and picked a pumpkin to carve for Halloween. Certainly not since he was a kid, and not after his mother had died when he was 4. Maybe there had been a couple of Halloweens with Bobby where he let them carve some at the table. But that still had been some decades by now. Then he remembered…. The year he'd spent with Lisa and Ben. Which actually hasn't been all that long ago that things had gone sour and he'd almost lost them. He remembered that Halloween before everything went bad, taking Ben out to the store and getting a few pumpkins for them all to carve together. He remembered showing Ben how to hold the knife right so it was easier, how to make it look scarier with the teeth. He remembered working outside and spotting squirrels chewing on them, and scaring the little furballs off with Ben. Lisa yelled at them for being idiots but Dean still couldn't forget the loving look in her eyes that betrayed every word she tossed at them for that. He still missed it all so much. He'd have thought he'd have gotten over it by now but he still hasn't, he still woke up some days with the urge to call Lisa and check on them before he remembered that he couldn't. He wasn't about to mope around about it when there was still work to do, but he was human, he was allowed to feel pain over something he'd lost, especially when he knew they were out there somewhere, happy and safe, he just couldn't be with them. So much crap had happened and there was still crap going on. It was all whirling in his mind until he looked over at you.

You were standing next to him, you had turned the bunker into a festive warehouse when they hadn't even had the place very long, and now you were telling him how you were going to carve pumpkins for Halloween. In the middle of the world's 80th apocalypse. He shook his head lightly and let out a light chuckle, short and dry with disbelief laced in it. “You wanna carve this…” he trailed, eyes drifting back towards her prize.

You weren't sure if you were scared or confused. Or, maybe both. You frowned at the way he looked at you because you knew that look. You knew those eyes. Even if he wouldn't come out and say it you knew something was wrong but for the life of you, you couldn't figure out what. Following his line of sight towards the pumpkin you'd picked out, your brows knitted together as you chewed at your lip in thought. “I mean, you don't have to. I just thought it might be fun. And uh…I mean I thought you and your brother could use some fun.” You reasoned aloud, quietly. Mostly because you weren't totally sure what was going on with him and if something might set him off. “It's Halloween, y'know? Horror movies….bad popcorn…carved pumpkins. But- it's, I mean. It's not a big deal, I promise.” You shrugged shaking your head but mostly at yourself because you'd rambled enough.

You made another attempt at getting the big orange lump out of the bin full of them, and peripherally you heard Dean chuckle again before suddenly the pumpkin felt a lot lighter. Because his hands had joined yours in the effort of moving it to the cart. Once it was set down, Dean turned back to the bin and pulled out another one. You frowned, confused and blinked as you watched him grab not just one but two more of those pumpkins.

“What?” He cocked a brow up slightly as you looked at him like that. He knew why you were giving him that look, but he didn't really want to talk about it and he was trying to play it off so he smirked her way. “I thought you said it's Halloween, let’s bring home some pumpkins. Maybe Sam'll finally ‘conquer his fears’ or whatever, therapists say that's good for you and all.” He joked, that smirk widening into a bit of a grin.

Your worries weren't gone but they'd been substituted for mischievous joy at the notion of giving Sam a bit of shit. Mostly she just loved to see the two in their natural rhythm, and it had–admittedly–been a bit tense lately between them. The idea of some good old fashioned fun sounded good for all of them.

But above all, you were just excited to challenge them into a carving contest. With a grin, you tiptoed to pull Dean into a gentle kiss. “Pretty sure there's no therapist protocol for people like us, that's what whiskey and John Carpenter is for.” You teased back, kissing him again when he chuckled. Tomorrow night was going to be fun, you knew that much. But so would tonight and you made sure Dean knew that in the way your lips lingered on his just a little longer before pulling away so you could finish your shopping trip with a bit of incentive.

[aswallowssong]

Sicktember 2024 #4: "Great. I got a cold for my birthday."

So @fragolinaa and I have been working on a Critical Role AU for... well over a year. The whole thing is called "Twinkling Lights," (all 3 campaign's characters) but each campaign gets their own little name, because that's not confusing at all. Campaign 2 has always been my baby, and the thought was "What if the Mighty Nein were all absolutely chaotic, burned out high school teachers?" So I give you "Twenty Somethings."

Fjord was done with the day before he’d even opened his eyes. There was a steady pounding in his skull, and his throat hurt. Not to mention the fact that his sinuses felt like someone had shoved handfuls of paper towels up his nose. 

Great. I got a cold for my birthday.

Not that he cared much for his birthday anyway. He didn’t actually know what his birthday was, since his parents had left him at the doorstep of the orphanage when he was a baby. They’d picked a date five months before, since that’s how old the doctor said he probably was, and Cuersaar 6th it was.

And Cuersaar 6th it was, and he was sick, and he needed to get up for work before his second alarm went off and he was super behind for the morning.

Thankfully, Caduceus wasn’t into grand gestures of affection in general, but instead small, intimate gestures. So, when he sat down to shove some toast in his mouth, which scraped his already irritated and painful throat going down, and sniffled pitifully, all that met him was a warm cup of tea, and an affectionate hand on his forehead.

“Good morning, Fjord,” Caduceus said, giving him a knowing smile. “Happy birthday. Are you sick?”

“S’ a cold,” Fjord rasped. “Probably got it off Luc.”

Veth’s son loved Fjord, much to her dismay and his delight, but he’d parked himself in Fjord’s lap for all of movie night while his nose ran and he coughed quietly into the elbow of his sweatshirt. Veth and Yeza had said they’d just stay home with him, but no one in their friend group cared about a little cold.

Now, Fjord almost wished he had.

Caduceus hummed knowingly. “Ah, he was real snotty on Friday. Probably. Sorry, friend. I’ll put some tea I think will help in a travel mug for you to take with us.”

Fjord didn’t go a day without feeling like he was so desperately lucky to have a friend like Caduceus. “Thanks, Cad.”

“Mhm. I think there’s some soup left from a few nights ago. I can put that in a thermos for you, if you’d like? For lunch?”

It would have been easy to brush Cad off and tell him that it was fine. He probably wasn’t going to be hungry, anyway. He didn’t even want the toast he was currently choking down, but he knew that he needed something to get him through his classes. 

“I–”

“Let me? Since it’s a day about you?”

That stopped him from declining, and Fjord nodded slowly after a second. Cad knew the mixed emotions that came with his birthday; he had for years. 

“Okay,” he rasped, wincing and taking another sip of tea. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Sure,” Cad said, smiling widely at Fjord, and making him feel a little warmer inside. “I think there’s some cold medicine under the sink. Why don’t you go get some before we leave while I pack this up?”

Fjord nodded, obeying like a child. Regardless of the fact that he was a thirty-one, no, thirty-two year old man, he wished the same thing he’d wished every time he felt poorly since he could remember. He wanted to be comforted, and taken care of, not because it was someone’s job, but because they wanted to. Because they loved him.

And Cad did. He really did. Fjord knew that. But like a friend, or even a brother, and that was different.

He rustled through their bin of medicine that Cad kept stocked with natural and chemical remedies, and found a few blister packs of bright orange cold and flu medicine. He swallowed one pack, and stored the others in his pocket, wishing that he was staying home in a sweatshirt and joggers instead of the khakis and polo he had on for his job. The fact that Cad got to wear whatever he wanted only frustrated him until he remembered that Cad wasn’t going to be teaching Biology, but Culinary and Agriculture. He’d spend half the day outside in the crisp, early Cuersaar wind.

The thought of it made him shiver, or maybe that was the fact that he was decently sure he was sporting a mild fever, but he didn’t let himself dwell too long. He needed to drive to school.

“Cad?” He called, wincing and sniffling quietly as he pulled a jacket over his polo and pulled his keys off the hook.

Gods, he felt awful.

“Coming!” Caduceus rounded the corner with his school bag, already in a coat, and with both their lunch boxes in his hand. He smiled widely, giving Fjord an encouraging nod, and holding out his other hand, which held the travel mug of tea. “Oh, and don’t forget this.”

Fjord managed a small smile, taking the cup from Cad with a nod. “Thanks.”

“Oh sure. It’s a chilly morning, and by the sound of your voice, I’d say your throat needs it.”

It did, and when it was gone before his first period prep was over, he wished it wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t strep – he’d had that enough times in his life to know the feeling – but it was enough that he wished he had a days supply of the warm tea to keep him from rasping so badly while he taught his first two blocks of AP Bio. Several students looked at him with worry, ones that he knew were prone to anxious thinking, and he tried to give them a reassuring look as he explained the circulatory system.

By the end of his third period the cough had started, and the sniffling was getting annoying enough that Fjord had just grabbed a box of tissues from his cabinet and parked it on his desk. He’d already figured he was going to have to restructure his afternoon classes plans to be independent work, as opposed to teacher-led, but he knew his AP students were already worrying about Thunsheer’s test, and he owed it to them to give them everything they needed.

Even if it was at his own destruction.

When the bell for his lunch period rang, he audibly sighed, and when he turned to make sure his kids hadn’t left anything behind, he nearly jumped.

“Shoot! Oh, Orym. You startled me.”

The senior was looking at him with drawn eyebrows. “Sorry. Coach, are you okay?”

Orym had a heart of gold. Fjord noticed too, now, that Dorian was hanging in the doorway. It was unusual to see one without the other, and Fjord sighed, running a hand through his hair that desperately needed a trim.

“I’m fine,” Fjord said, like a liar. He didn’t want to worry Orym more than he already was, especially with the heaviness he already bore. “Just a cold. Annoying, but bearable.”

Orym nodded, and so did Dorian from his sentinel’s post. “Okay. You should see if Nurse Jester has anything that can help. She showed up in Herr Widogast’s room earlier with cough drops.” He smirked a little. “Someone might have narked.”

Ah, Caleb. Caleb’s immune system was made of tissue paper, and as Luc’s uncle, he tended to pick up anything on the kindergartener immediately. 

“Herr too, huh? Good to know. Thanks, Orym.”

“Are we still having practice?”

Crap. Fjord did not want to have practice out in the crisp wind. He forgot they even had soccer that day. Why would he schedule a practice the day after a game? They didn’t have another one until the next week.

“Right, um. Let me get back to you, okay? Come see me after lunch. This is your lunch period, right?”

Orym nodded. “Okay. And then I’ll let the team know in the groupchat?”

“Perfect. I’ll write you a note to show up to fifth period a little late so we can figure it out. Now, go eat.”

Orym smiled, looking back at Dorian and nodding so the other boy would open the door, and they scrambled out to go find Imogen, no doubt. The three of them were a motley crew, but a favorite among his friend group of teachers. He could help but chuckle watching them go, and then sigh when the door closed and his headache reminded him that he was, indeed, sick.

The only good thing was that none of their friends knew when his birthday was. They didn’t know that it was, supposedly and legally, that day, and wouldn’t fret at him about being ill on a day that was supposed to be happy.

It wasn’t particularly happy, anyway.

The first one in his room was Beau, rage in her eyes, and he knew that the peaceful lunch he’d hoped for to let himself feel like crap was not happening.

“Do you know how ridiculous Kaylie can be?!”

Fjord sighed, sitting down at his desk and pulling out his hidden box of crackers, his water, and another blister pack of cold medicine.

Caleb had filtered in after that, looking pale and sucking on what Fjord assumed was a cough drop. He took a look at Fjord, and under Beau’s rant quietly said in a voice that matched his own rasp, “You as well then?”

Fjord gave a tired smile and nodded. “Yup.”

“Isn’t anyone listening to me?!”

“Kaylie is being a menace today because she spent the weekend with her mother, and then yesterday back with her father, so she is having the emotional whiplash,” Caleb said easily, and raspily, but Beau didn’t seem to notice.

“She still doesn’t have to be a monster–”

“Calm down, Beau. She’s seventeen and her home life is a wreck. Well, her mom’s home is a wreck. Let it roll.”

Beau looked at Fjord silently after he was finished, and then sighed, flopping down at her desk and basically throwing her lunchbox down.

The rest of their group filtered in, Cad bringing Fjord his lunchbox when he did, and Fjord savored the way the warm soup coated his stinging throat, and let conversation wash into the background as he settled a little bit into misery. He’d perk himself up when he needed to teach his next class, especially if he’d be dealing with a pissed off Kaylie, but for the time they sat in comfortable companionship, he simply let himself wallow a little.

Jester was eyeing him with worry, he knew that, and it embarrassed him, especially since he’d realized that he was very much in love with her, and she very much still had a shitty boyfriend. He tried not to make eye contact, but when the lunch bell rang and everyone started cleaning up their things to get ready for their next class, she was standing at his desk, holding a bottle of ibuprofen and a bag of cough drops.

“Here. I already gave Caleb what he needs for the rest of the day. You can come to me too, you know? I’m basically here for the students and the teachers. Having a cold while you’re teaching sucks so bad. Let me make it easier.” She leaned in and whispered to him, so no one else would hear what she said next. “Especially on your birthday.”

He felt like he was going to melt under the sincerity of her gaze, and he couldn’t do anything but give a little nod, his heart doing some sort of anxious tap dance when he took the bottle from her and their fingers brushed. 

“Thanks, Jessie. I know, I just… didn’t want to bother anyone.”

“Cad told me that you don’t want anyone to know about today. And I won’t tell anyone, but, maybe on Folsen I’ll bring a cake to Molly and Yasha’s for family dinner. Just because. Not for any reason.”

Her eyes were sparkling, and she was looking at him with no pity whatsoever. She wanted to do it, he could tell, and she wanted to help him, and all those things made it really hard to focus on what he was going to say next.

“I– Alright. Can it be strawberry?”

“Of course it can. And, I know you’re going to say no, but I’m going to get you a present. Don’t tell me no, I’ve made up my mind. You deserve something better than a cold for your birthday.”

She nodded, speaking in a normal voice again. “Also you should cancel practice, since you’re sick.”

“Oh,” Beau said, whipping around at the word ‘practice.’ “I can take the boys today. You should go home and sleep, you look like you need it.”

They were the only ones left in the room, everyone else having left, Cad with a small wave as he’d gone while Fjord had been talking to Jester.

“I–”

“Say yes,” Jester said simply, and shrugged. “Or else.”

“Or… else?”

“Or else.” She turned, her hair nearly smacking him in the face as she skipped out of the room, her pink scrubs a whirl as she spun out the door, and around Orym as he walked in.

Orym looked confused, but shook it off as he faced both Fjord and Beau.

“Hi, Coach Lionette. Coach Stone, did you figure out practice?”

“You guys are going to practice with me and the girls today. Let your team know.”

Orym looked between Beau and Fjord for a moment before groaning quietly. “They’re gonna kick our butts.”

Fjord chuckled, which turned into a cough, and he knew he’d made the right decision accepting Beau’s offer. She didn’t know it, but she’d also given him a present that was better than a cold. All he had to do was get through the rest of the day, and he could crawl in bed and hope he’d wake up feeling better, for a better day altogether.

[fruitcoops]

Solstice Sweetheart

Happy Secret Santa, Elise! This was such a fun prompt to tackle, and I hope you find as much joy in the New Year as these three <3 O'Darwin belong to @lumosinlove and the Cold Brewed Enchantments/ witchy coffeeshop genderbend AU is credited to the server's lovely minds!

Nat inhaled.

Bottles on the table—mostly. Repurposed jars held most of their previous contents, and those had been scattered to kingdom come since the night began. As they should be, of course. He could think of nothing worse than a mediocre solstice party. Awkwardness was born and bred in the cliquey little huddles of a party gone wrong.

Nat exhaled.

None of that, now. The house was still standing. People had fun. Out-of-control spellwork had been kept to a dull roar, even after the firewhiskey made an appearance. He could feel, deep in his soul, that it had been a good night.

Glass chimed in the other room. Kasey, if Nat had to guess. That sound had the hallmarks of her careful handling all over it. Alex was somewhere on the stairs if the heavy footsteps were any indication. If she was untangling the streamers from the banister, Nat was going to…he didn’t even know, anymore. He had spent the better part of a year since Alex’s arrival in their little town trying to figure out what the hell was going on between his girlfriend and the gorgeous new girl, with naught but a spinning head to show for it.

They knew each other. Kasey had told him that much. The dulled gray-blue of her tone said more than words could.

Soft humming floated through the empty doorframe. The gentle rasp of Alex’s voice had such a lovely color to it, like fresh maple syrup or crystalline honey. It glowed against the jewel tones of the rest of her—rich, curling clues tucked in tight next to sparking reds.

Kasey’s braid caught the light when she turned, only just visible through the kitchen doorway. Nat had loved that about their house since the first day; so few doors to still the air. Something was always in motion, always making noise. He wished Kasey could see it—the brilliance of sound, the cool shades of her voice—but she just seemed to like it so much when he described it.

And maybe that was something just for him to cherish. Their life clung to the ceiling corners like cobwebs. Words and music and laughter. A snippet of Kasey singing ‘happy birthday’ had been lingering in the dining room window since the summer.

“Winter!”

An electric blue comet zipped from the stairs to the kitchen sink.

“What?” came the mossy wave of Kasey’s answer.

“Knutty promised pastries for us tomorrow! She’s trying new recipes. Needs extra mouths.”

Alex would need more hands if she was trying to text Leo and clean at the same time. Nat gathered an armful of empty bottles off the table and dumped them into the recycling bin before turning to the staircase, where one sneaker-clad foot was barely visible through the slats in the railing.

“New recipes?” he asked.

Alex’s face popped into view. Still freckled, even in the dead of winter. Nat felt his stomach perform a funny little flip-flop over itself at her bright smile. “Oh, hey!”

Orange and gold fireworks, crackling about her head. “Thanks for cleaning that up.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Alex’s vague wave sent a curlicue of taupe his way. His mouth tanged with citrus when it reached him. “Least I can do.”

“None of the other guests stayed to help,” Nat pointed out, bending to collect a few paper crowns.

“None of the other guests are as gracious as me.” Her smile was quick and mischievous, but genuine. How often had Nat thought the same of its owner? “Get up here, Music Man. Where’s your solstice sweetheart?”

“Downstairs, with the dishes.”

Alex pulled a face that made her pointed nose wrinkle. “I told her I’d handle those.”

“Clearly it worked,” Nat teased. “Don’t feel too bad. You know how she gets around the solstice.”

A test. Just a teeny-tiny-itty-bitty maybe of a test. Alex’s fond smile was far and away the best answer. “Yeah,” she said, darting a grin toward Nat. “You’re a lucky one, Darcy. It ain’t easy being a seasonal delight.”

“I think she’s pretty great all year.”

“Good answer.”

It was times like this when Nat wondered if Alex could see what he saw. Or at least, if she understood. Dark topaz eyes ticked along the path of pensive purple.

Alex had been speaking in purple a lot, lately. He knew why. Even without his gift, he’d be a fool to miss the way she reached, hesitated, ached for Kasey now that their distance could be measured in inches instead of borders. It pulled at them both, torn edges of the past snagging on the present. He knew what it felt like to match himself to Kasey’s steady keel and let her draw him through her oceans. Alex spoke like someone who had swum those waters before, unafraid that Kasey would ever close the ice around her.

Nat…wanted that. For himself, and a laughed morning, Music Man held in golden parentheses, but more than that, for Kasey. She deserved so much. He could give so much. But if Alex had ridden out the storm and found harbor in Kasey’s heart enough to linger after all these years, Nat would be worse than a fool to let that fall away for his own sake. He could love them both.

Did.

Would.

“Nathaniel.”

“Alexandra.”

“You’re thinking at me.”

“You’re in love with my girlfriend.”

Alex’s hands never stuttered on the loops of ribbon. “Yes.”

Butter yellow. A pastel, more tender than her heavy saturation, but unyielding. “You didn’t stay here just to be a good guest.”

“No.”

Dandelion cradled in blush pink. “You’re in love with me.”

“Yes.”

She didn’t whisper. He didn’t know why he thought she would. Alex never whispered. She was far too vibrant for it to do any good. It didn’t matter if she was banging on their door to drag them out for a taste of Leo’s kitchen witchery or falling asleep on their throw pillows in her fox form—wherever Alex was, the world grew brighter.

“You should tell her,” Nat said.

“I won’t get in the way of what you have.”

“You won’t,” he agreed. It had lacked the fuzzy edges of a question, but that didn’t matter. Anything, as long as she understood.

“It’s—” The maroon undercurrent of her voice curdled mauve. Her gaze fell on him with the weight of a feather alighting on the water. “It was before you. I let her go. It’s okay.”

“Alexandra.” An old joke between them, perhaps too flirty for simple friends. Nat propped his chin on the end of the railing and made sure she was looking, really looking, before he continued. “I’m in love with my girlfriend, and I’m more in love with you every time you come by, and I’m pretty sure our solstice sweetheart has been head over heels for you since the day you met.”

Alex’s lips pressed together, but the smile ticking at the corners betrayed her.

“It seems like a waste to sit here and be sad on the stairs when Kasey Winter is in the kitchen and waiting for you to say something,” he finished quietly.

His heart should be racing. His stomach should be in knots, all aflutter the way it had been when he first asked Kasey out. But with Alex looking at him like she could hardly believe the marvel of her ears, he found only calm waiting.

“Yes.”

Crimson bloomed around the word. Alex was so sure of herself—Nat thought he might love that most about her, from not-so-sneaky tips stuffed into her sister’s café jar to her utter confidence that whatever new drink she brought to their doorstep would be the most delicious thing they had ever tasted. She was unfailingly correct. His eyes flickered to her mouth.

“What are you waiting for?” she challenged.

“Kasey first.” She deserved so much.

Alex’s smile grew, and she pushed herself up with a “don’t have to tell me twice” that flashed peacock through the stairwell. Peacock, like Kasey’s laughter on the first day of winter when her magic was thick and strong in her veins. Nat was pretty sure some part of his heart beat just to hear that sound and watch it coat their home.

He was already reaching for the ribbon where she left off when Alex’s hand closed around his wrist and dragged him after her. He couldn’t help a laugh and didn’t particularly want to—turquoise shimmered ahead of them where Kasey was singing along to the record player under her breath. What a thing to have waiting.

“Winter.”

Kasey looked up, a casserole dish held in both hands under the warm water. Her eyes darted between them; a golden brow arched. “What did you…”

It took two steps for Alex to close the distance between them. She shut the faucet off and took Kasey’s hands from the sink, holding her wrists between them without a care for the water dripping on them both. “Please?” came the lilac-soft request.

Any other time of year, and Kasey might have questioned it.

The solstice lined her in threads of gold and blue. Her cheeks were round and flushed pink with power, and her hands were steady despite the anticipation that quickened her breath when she looked to Nat, then back to Alex, then to Nat once more. “You spoke?”

“Yeah.”

Kasey leaned in and kissed her without a moment’s hesitation.

Nat watched Alex’s ribs expand to accommodate a deep breath in—tiny crystals of ice began budding in the water droplets on Kasey’s skin as she cupped her hands around the back of Alex’s head and exhaled, long enough for steam to billow up between them. It was kind of the season to let everyone else see how much of a wonder she was.

“Mmm, wait wait wait,” Alex hummed when Kasey began pulling away. She closed her hands around Kasey’s forearms without a care for the chill and kissed the smile from her lips in a burst. “Storm girl,” she whispered with periwinkle fondness that made Kasey blush. Her thumb traced the peony-pink of her cheekbones and Nat steadied himself on the countertop. “Gods and fae, I missed you.”

Nat loved her when she was a chattering fox on their couch, and loved her when she was tall and kind and warm in every word. He loved her when her booming reds mingled with Kasey’s mellow blue in harmony so perfect it struck him silent, just to listen and watch for a second longer.

“Nathaniel!”

When Alex pulled away to launch herself into his arms with a laugh so bright and happy he could see it through closed eyes, he thought he might love her so much he’d burst with it. The solstice was the time of greatest and best change for them. He could think of no better way to start anew than with Alex beside them.

[mareenavee]

Swift in Anger, Quick to Laugh

For @rainpebble3! Happy Birthday!!!! 🫂✨

Shoutout to @paraparadigm for the phenomenal beta work <3

Huge thanks to @changelingsandothernonsense, @thequeenofthewinter, @archangelsunited, @polypolymorph, and @thana-topsy for your endless support of Athis-related nonsense <3

Without further ado~

Swift in Anger, Quick to Laugh

LOST?

It was a matching set of keys for a reason. They weren’t exactly the same common-looking brass keys everyone on Nirn seemed to carry. These were odd-shaped and specific. And the major reason Athis had left them in the care of Brynjolf and Delvin to begin with was because—of all the idiots in the Guild—those two seemed to be the most responsible. How wrong he’d been.

“When was the last time you saw your key, Delvin?” Athis asked. He grimaced, sighed through his teeth and scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. The courier had woken the entire house in the middle of the night, and with a newborn, none of them had been sleeping much to begin with. He’d left the house as fast as anything, his armor barely secured, Odahviing all riled up from the sudden summoning. He was rather remorseful for leaving Teldryn and Nyenna to deal with the wake of that chaos by themselves, but there was nothing else for it.

He’d tried to give the title of Guild Master away. He’d tried. Even without the formality, the sheer amount of work that came with it never seemed to leave him. Hadn’t they done just fine before he’d helped them with the Mercer issue? No? He sighed. Gods, but his bones ached and he just needed a nap. But first, nonsense. Because that, too, was never ending.

“I had it with me while I was in the Flagon. I was having a drink with Endell here and Bryn. It was still on its chain; I remember because I tucked it into my shirt so it wouldn’t tip into the mugs,” Delvin said, sounding as miserable as he looked. He held his bald head in his hands and leaned his elbows on the desk. Endell snorted and patted Delvin on the back. Athis rolled his eyes.

“You’re always in the Flagon, Delvin,” he said flatly. Endell at least had the courtesy to laugh before he left the man to his suffering. Athis pinched the bridge of his nose. His head ached and the wobegon Breton was grating on the last of his nerves. “Can you retrace your steps after that?”

“I—uh, no,” Delvin said, voice muffled in his arms as he rested on the huge ledger which sat on the desk. Behind him, different artifacts of varying value glittered in the light of the lanterns and torches. The water of the Cistern sloshed as it flowed through the cobblestone channels, and never had the place felt more like a filthy bandit cave than it did right now. He wished, not for the last time, that he was home and warm in his bed with the people he loved. But no. Riften, instead. Because of course.

“Think harder,” Athis growled.

“I was drunk,” Delvin complained.

“Delvin—!” Athis protested in frustration, but held back further curses. He was out of the habit of that kind of language lately. He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Azura strike me down, already!” 

He walked behind the desk to search through whatever might have been moved. There were various bins which held such things as lock picks, quills, inks, charcoal, wax for impressioning, or sealing letters, and brass stamps. All of which were dusty and unorganized. Athis wasn’t surprised; this was the reality here in the Guild. Common sense was not their forte. It was little wonder things had gone to Oblivion while he was gone. Or before even that. Grousing wouldn’t solve the issue, however, so he kept looking. How hard could a key be to find, after all? -> Read the rest on AO3

[valentinsylve]

1, 6, 23 for music 🎶 asks

1 -- The first artist I remember loving was my dad. But also the Beatles and especially Ringo Starr. "Yellow Submarine" and "Photograph" were my favorites when I was about 2 years old, even though one is very happy and one is very sad.

6 -- The National Symphony performing the Mozart Requiem was the first concert I went to. I was 9 and Amadeus was in the theaters, it was my favorite film. My dad was in the chorus and also did volunteer admin stuff for them and so we got a free box seat. The first rock concert I ever went to was Pink Floyd, in a big arena in the nosebleed seats with my dad for my 14th birthday. It was ecstasy.

23 -- How did I discover my favorite artist? Oh gosh, who is my favorite artist? I'll go with the one I've seen live most often, which is Swans. I discovered them by picking up the Filth EP in a discount tape bin for $1 because I'd read about them in Star Hits and also the cover was unsettling. The music was even more unsettling! I was a tender young thing then and hadn't acquired the taste for dissonant noises. Then when I was 19 my friend who was squatting in my dorm introduced me to The Burning World, which was such a different sound from Filth, and I fell truly in love with it.

Thank you for the asks, dear! <3

[lazyjellyfish300]

Heyyyyyy

Happy birthday! 🎉🎉🎉

We’ve not known each other long, but every moments been enjoyable and fulfilling. I hope the same can be said until your next birthday :3

💜💜💜

Have a cookie 🍪

HEHE TY MOOTIE! 😩😩😭😭 I always look forward to seeing you on here and I love talking with you 🥰🥰 you're so kind and I love you and your amazing brain 🙌🏽🧎🏽‍♀️ even tho my thots end me up in the horny bin lolol! 🚓

I will eagerly accept the cookies!! 🥰🥰😭😭😩😩 ILYY

[dwightschrute11]

👯 for Calypso

TYY for the ask rose ILY ‼️‼️

With NPC friends, I think she would be the shoulder to lean on. She would be fun and like making jokes a lot, but at the end of the day she will be sensitive with her friends and have some heart to heart.

I do think she acts a bit differently with friends outside of the game (like other MCs), she would be more comfortable with them and be incredibly energetic. I do think she laughs more when she’s with other MCs/ocs.

👑Yvette’s definitely more an enjoyer of the simpler things in life, with growing up in a household which cared deeply about the finer things. Blood red sunsets, resting her head on someone’s shoulder, or someone simply making tea is enough to make her feel happy for days

🎅VALENTINES DAY IS HER LOVE 🙏 she would go all fucking out oml…not with big gifts like calypso would (gift giving is cals love language), but rather with acts of affection and love (but maybe a small gift too). Cuddling? Yes. Love bites? Yes. Serenading you? Yes.

TYY FOR THE ASK @rypnami ILY ‼️‼️

🫦LMFAO ngl I have no clue if she would be 🤷‍♀️ *I* think she’s really pretty and cool but idk how others would think…you know I’ve always had this idea of her making a dating profile and setting up a printed version around school so maybe she would do that to see 😭

🚬calypso has a pretty bad habit of bottling her emotions up, she has a hard time admitting to both herself and others that she needs help. She has a problem with not being able to put herself first, and while is pretty good at standing up for herself, can’t say no when people ask her to do something (like quests)

💅HER FASHION SENSE IS IN THE BIN…the only stylish fits she gets is her uniform 🙏 the only reason she has aesthetically pleasing outfits in modern au is because I like drawing pretty clothes…sandals in socks is her go to

TY FOR THE ASKS MOOTS 🥰🥰 ask game is here!!

[mrhaitch]

HIHI Mr. Haitch! More questions for you and yet again thank you for answering all my stupid questions. It means a lot to me that you take actual time out of your day to answer these :)

Favourite flower? And Haitch’s favourite flower too? (No asking her you must know or guess)

Opinion on balloons? And/or favourite type of balloon? (Shape, size, material, colour)

Do you have comically large feet? I have comically tiny feet since I am also tiny. For reference my ballet flats are a size 2.5 double a, my largest shoes are a size 6 American and are probably one size too big, and my ballet pointe shoes are a size 4 XX.

FUN FACT: hippos can hold their breath for up to 30 minutes underwater. They are ambush predators as categorized by their eyes being on top of their head. Other ambush predators include: great white sharks, tarantulas, Elmo, alligators, etc etc…

1. I quite like Dahlias. Haitch loves tulips.

2. They're okay? I have one fond memory of balloons - a year or so ago (maybe two now), we had a gig booked on our front man's birthday. We always closed out a show with a song that references pigs (again, being deliberately vague here). The bassist and myself filled several bin bags with pig balloons, which we stashed off stage, and then released after getting the crowd to sing happy birthday.

3. Yes, I have clown feet. Height-wise I'm somewhere around the 6ft mark, but I've got size 12/13 feet.

4. This tracks, hippos are terrible.