#have we learned nothing from our elders | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

smileysuh · 9 months ago

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Love, Cupid

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I need…” the cupid’s throat tightens and the words get caught. There are so many things he needs, he just doesn’t know where to start. Mingyu takes a deep breath, smelling your growing scent of arousal. When he looks down, your aura is practically pulsing between your legs, and it draws all his attention. He licks his lips, feeling confident this time when he says, “I need to taste you.”

tw/cw. unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), pussy worship, love drunk Mingyu, fingering, big dick mingyu, pussy stretching, hand-holding during sex, Mingyu is somewhat subby/switchy, mainly missionary to accommodate for his wings, sensitive wings, hand job, mention of birth control, multiple reader orgasms, overstim, etc… I pet names: (his) big guy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 13.4k

🍭 aus. mythical/roman/cupid au, soulmate au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. this man has me in a chokehold

Prologue - the accident

“I’m still not really sure why we needed a new cupid,” Mingyu confesses, toying with the elegantly curved, white bow in his hands. “But I guess if anyone is going to teach you how to do this, it should be me.”

It’s no secret that out of the twelve high council cupids, Mingyu is the one who is most obsessed with love. He lives, breathes and dreams of it. Every second of the immortal man’s life is dedicated to love, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Out of all of Venus’s children, Mingyu is the favorite, and he has no worries that training this new cupid will lead to competition in that regard. Chan seems nice enough, but Mingyu can already tell that the kid has a lot to learn when it comes to the duty of being a matchmaker.

“Our arrows are the most powerful weapon on earth,” Mingyu explains, hovering with his new younger brother over the busy city street. They each have large angelic wings that keep them aloft, and extra cupid magic makes it so they’re invisible to the human eye. Mingyu’s favorite place to people-watch is from the sky, it gives him a bird’s eye view, and an easy way to trail his targets without anything getting in the way.

“I thought Jupiter’s lightning bolt was the most powerful weapon on earth,” Chan muses.

“It’s not.”

“Neptune’s trident then.”

Mingyu lets out a deep sigh. “Are you here to learn or not?”

“I just want you to explain it to me. How is your bow and arrow the most powerful weapon?” Chan acts as if he’s just looking for information, but Mingyu gets the sneaking suspicion that the young cupid is toying with him. He seems to be cut from the same cloth as the likes of Jeonghan and Soonyoung, who identify as more mischievous and tricksy than most deities supposedly enamored with love.

“Love is the most powerful thing on Earth,” Mingyu states, “and our tools are the makers of love, for humans anyways. Do you know how many wars were started in the name of love? How many people have died for love? Love is the most important and powerful emotion. Without it, humanity has nothing.”

“I’m still not sure I agree with you on this,” Chan sighs.

“You don’t have to agree with me, because I’m right, and I know I’m right. Now shut up and watch,” Mingyu shushes the younger cupid, pointing at the street below. “Do you see that human?”

Chan flies closer to Mingyu, angling his head toward the elder cupid’s large bicep, looking down his arm to the point of his finger. “The pretty girl?”

“Yes, exactly! Her!”

“Are we going to shoot her?”

“Yes, but we can’t just shoot her randomly- when we shoot her, she’ll fall in love with the first person she sees- the first person she looks at, and we can’t have her falling in love with just anyone on the street. That would be very irresponsible of us. Once shot, a soul connection forms- our arrows can never miss, and they can never be shot nonchalantly.”

“Or what?”

“Or it would be very, very bad, and as I said, irresponsible, and just… not good. Our job is to find a good match for as many humans as possible, and we can do this by looking at their auras. You see how her aura is pink?” God, Mingyu loves looking at your aura. You’ve got one of the prettiest auras he’s ever seen, and Mingyu’s been around for an extremely long time. “Each aura means something different. Pink souls are romantics, they’re soft. Pinks do best with other pinks, other pinks make them the most fulfilled. They can also manage a red, as they’ll draw on each other’s mutual passions. White auras are also suitable for pinks.”

“Yeah, I know about arua colour.,” Chan rolls his eyes. “Blues work best with blues, they can also do well with greens or purples. Greens do best with yellows, greens or blues. Purple does blue or red. I’m not in primary school.”

Mingyu has no clue how old the new cupid is. It’s a very human joke to make- mentioning primary school. Cupids are born, sure, but they age differently than humans, faster. Mingyu supposes that as the newest cupid, maybe Chan is a representation of the times- but if he starts bringing out Gen Z humor and saying things like “this is lit” while shooting his marks, Mingyu might just have a heart attack.

“These days, pink can be a rare aura to find in men,” Mingyu admits. “I’ve considered a few red auras for her- but she’s so soft, I wouldn’t want her to be overwhelmed. Reds are prone to anger, and a pink can soften them out, but a red aura will always be red, and I don’t think I want that for her.”

“Are you always this wrapped up in the matches you make?” Chan asks. “This shit seems easy- I see an orange aura, I match them with an orange, yellow, or red. I see a pink, I match her with a pink, white or red. It’s not that serious.”

“How could it be anything but serious!?” Mingyu groans. “I told you, our arrow is the most dangerous weapon in the world- you can’t just go around shooting people randomly!”

“But you haven’t actually explained what would happen if I did,” the new cupid points out.

“I told you, it’s irresponsible.”

“Yeah, but what does that mean?”

“It means bad things would happen!”

“Bad things like what, though?”

Mingyu loves love. He’s a soft cupid. But for the love of Venus, he’s beginning to want to strangle Chan.

Instead of answering, Mingyu’s gaze finds you again. Chan doesn’t have to take this seriously, Mingyu’s on a mission to find you a soulmate, and he’ll stop at nothing-

“Ouch!” Mingyu flinches, tearing his eyes from you and grabbing at his arm, where an arrow is protruding from his bicep. The cupid’s jaw drops, and he looks to the younger mischief maker.

“Oops?” Chan shrugs.

“Why did you do that!?” Mingyu screams, tearing the arrow out and covering the wound before it begins to drip his golden immortal blood.

“I wanted to see what would happen if I randomly shot a couple without doing research. She’s pink. You’re the pinkest soul I’ve ever even seen- it’s a good match, no?” Chan grins. “Like… what’s the worst that could happen?”

Mingyu can’t even speak. He can’t find the words.

Never, in the history of the world - as far as Mingyu knows it - has one cupid shot another, let alone with the intention of binding their soul to a mortal’s.

But to be completely fair, Mingyu can’t even find it within himself to be mad at Chan. For one, he should have never given the new cupid his own bow and arrow, and maybe more importantly- Chan might have been right in binding the two of you. Because holy shit, you’ve got the prettiest soul Mingyu’s ever seen, and he’s been hesitant to match you up with someone, worried they’d be unworthy-

What’s a better fit for your pretty pink aura than his own vibrant magenta self?

One - the cupid council

“And then…” Mingyu looks around at the council of Cupids, taking a deep breath as he gets to the climax of the report, “Chan shot me.”

“He shot you?” Seungcheol grins, adjusting in his golden throne as he looks at the two immortals in the center of the room.

“With an arrow,” Mingyu clarifies. “Yeah.”

The eldest cupid stifles laughter, lifting a hand to half cover his mouth as he giggles and looks around at the others. Jeonghan meets the eldest’s gaze, also grinning. There are mixed reactions from others, and it’s Soonyoung of all people who stands up as if this whole thing is blasphemy, declaring, “Take the kid’s arrows away!”

“Why did this kid even get made,” Jihoon groans, rubbing his temples in annoyance.

“Hey!” Chan declares, offended at the notion of him being a useless creation from their godly mother.

“Seungkwan,” Seungcheol waves a hand, “take his arrows away.”

“Wait, no, I earned these!” Chan holds his bow and quiver close to his chest, hiding behind Mingyu when one of the other cupids gets closer to relieve him of his weapons.

“You shot an elder cupid,” Seungcheol says dismissively. “How does that count as earning your bow and arrow, or for that matter, your wings.” The eldest eyes the small white protrusions that flutter behind Chan, who shudders at the idea of them being taken away along with his cupid tools.

“Okay, everyone relax,” Jeonghan sighs, standing from his throne to address the room. “This isn’t Chan’s fault. I’d heard Mingyu was having trouble with a mark, being indecisive- and I wasn’t the only one who heard about it. This instruction came from Mother herself. Chan was just following orders. He has earned his bow and arrow, as well as his wings.”

“This order came from Mother?” Seungcheol sits up in his chair, jaw-dropping.

Venus is generally very hands-off with her sons. The idea that she’d heard about Mingyu’s predicament, and stepped in with an idea like this- well, it’s completely abnormal, and it’s clear that everyone on the cupid council is shocked by the revelation.

“She said something along the lines of… ‘Mingyu loves love, and it’s time he experiences it for himself.’” Jeonghan waves a hand nonchalantly, as if this is an everyday occurrence.

“What were you doing with Mother?” Wonwoo asks, and it’s clear in his tone that he’s not entirely trusting of the elder, more mischievous cupid.

“She has favorites, you know,” Jeonghan grins. “To Mingyu, she gifted love, to me, she gifted the role of messenger.”

“That’s some gift,” Seungcheol scoffs, but Mingyu gets the sense that Seungcheol wishes he’d been the one chosen to be privy to this information. “So Mother wants Mingyu to do what? Seduce a human?”

“Like it will be hard?” Jeonghan lets out a barking laugh. “This is our Mingyu we’re talking about. If anyone can seduce a human, it’s him.”

Two - the first meet

“Ok, but what if you shoot her too?” Mingyu suggests as he and Chan follow you from a distance, flying through the clear evening sky while you head home from work.

“Why don’t you shoot her?” Chan retorts.

“Jeeze,” Mingyu rolls his eyes at the newness of his sidekick. “You shot me, so I’m bonded to her now, which means only you can make her second connection. It’s a rule to make sure cupids don’t get in each other’s way. You shot me to fall for her, and if I shot her to fall for anyone else, that would lead to unrequited love, which isn’t fun for anyone.”

“A rule? What would happen if you tried to shoot her though? I mean, unless you and all the other cupids constantly communicate about your marks, there’s no way to know which human belongs to which cupid, is there?”

“What’s with you and breaking rules?” Mingyu sighs, rubbing at his temples. “Listen, I’m not testing fate again… also, most cities are split into small zones. Cupids stick to their zones.”

“Humans don’t though,” Chan points out.

“I’m not talking about this with you anymore.”

“Okay, suit yourself.”

“So will you shoot her for me?”

“Mmmm,” Chan makes a face. “I don’t think so.”

“What?!” Mingyu stops flying, staring at the cupid that he’s supposed to be training. “But… but I’m your teacher, and I’m telling you to shoot her for me!”

“That would be too easy though, right?” Chan flashes a grin. “Plus- that would be an abuse of power, Mingyu. You’re in love with her now, so telling me to force her to fall for you isn’t very fair, now is it?”

“I-” Mingyu bites at his tongue. He hadn’t thought of it that way. “Well… we know I’m best for her. It wouldn’t be an abuse because we know I’ll treat her right.”

“The thing is…” Chan lets out a yawn, “I’m still not convinced.”

“So you expect me to just go and talk to her?”

“Yeah?” The younger cupid shrugs. “You’re supposed to be some sex god, aren’t you?”

“No one’s ever called me that…” Mingyu can feel his skin heating at the notion. “I’m a love cupid, not a sex god.”

“Same thing,” Chan scoffs. “Just go talk to her. Come on, follow me.” He takes a nose dive, approaching the ground at a speed that makes Mingyu worry for his safety- only for Chan to land like a pro, waving at him to hurry up.

With a groan, Mingyu follows the younger cupid, his feet touching down onto the pavement of the crowded street.

“You can’t go talk to her looking like this,” Chan explains, looking Mingyu up and down.

As immortal beings, they’re impervious to the temperatures of the evening. Dressed in a cream-coloured toga, Mingyu stands out amongst the jackets and hats worn to protect human skin from the cold. “Give me a sec,” Mingyu sighs, using some cupid magic to transform his outward appearance, conjuring an outfit he thinks might draw you in. “How’s this?”

“A suit? Seriously?” Chan rolls his eyes.

“Suits are in!” Mingyu insists.

“Yeah, if you want to look like a sugar daddy.”

“Maybe she wants a sugar daddy?” Mingyu suggests.

“Aren’t you supposed to be some human expert? She’s a pink soul, Mingyu, how many pink souls really value money over personality?”

“So you know more about humans than I do now?” Mingyu can’t believe what he’s hearing out of his ward’s mouth.

“I think love is blinding you, dude,” Chan says, reaching out to touch Mingyu’s expensive silk tie. “You’re pretending to be someone you’re not.”

“I’m rich,” Mingyu insists.

“Sure, but you’re not a sugar daddy, you’re a cupid.”

Mingyu scoffs. “So what would you want me to wear?”

“Blue jeans, maybe a hoodie, something that screams ‘make me your boyfriend.’”

Mingyu has to concede that Chan might be onto something, but he refuses to admit it out loud. In fact, Mingyu buries deeper into his conviction that you’ll like the suit. “This outfit is staying,” he states.

“Fine,” Chan shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

With one final grin and giggle at his own double entendre, Chan pushes Mingyu roughly, causing him to fall back and bump directly into you. The rough contact jolts Mingyu into a corporeal form, putting him fully into your visibility as you steady yourself and blink up at him.

“Oh, uh… excuse me?” You’re a little stunned- but Mingyu supposes that's what happens when a man appears out of thin air.

“No, that was my fault,” Mingyu assures you quickly. “I uh… two left feet.”

“Right…” You look down, then back up at Mingyu, giving him a soft smile before stepping past him to continue on with your night.

Mingyu watches you in shock, then he pulls himself out of it, rushing to follow you. “I uh- I should make it up to you!”

“Don’t worry about it,” you wave a hand.

“But I do worry about it,” Mingyu insists, putting himself in front of you this time. “Here,” he conjures a flower from behind his back, holding it out to you, “Something to say sorry.”

You stop, staring up at him and then down at the rose. “You just happen to have that?” you ask quizically. “Were you trying to bump into me or something?”

“No, I just had the flower.” Mingyu would be sweating if he was a being who could sweat.

“Sure you did,” you laugh. “Look, I’m sure whatever girl you actually had that flower for would like it more than me.”

“I swear, it’s for you- look, forget the flower,” Mingyu tosses it onto the ground. “There must be some way I can make this up to you.”

“Dude, you bumped into me on the street, we’re good.”

Mingyu doesn’t know what else to say, so he simply says, “Please?”

You let out a sigh. “If I give you my number, will you let this go?”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you have a pen?”

Mingyu conjures one in his pocket, pulling it out to give it to you. When you take the pen, you grab his wrist, pulling his palm close so you can scrawl across it.

The cupid watches your every action, etching it into his memory. You’re so lovely, your pretty pink aura wrapped around you like a warm halo. When he takes in a deep breath, he can smell the touch of roses in the air, a lover-girl scent-

“There,” you sigh, releasing his hand. “Now I really have somewhere to be.”

“Okay,” Mingyu murmurs, holding his palm close. “Have a good night.”

“You too, big guy,” you say, laughing to yourself as you brush past him.

It takes a moment for Mingyu to realize he never got your name and vice versa. He’s tempted to rush after you, only for a hand to clap down on his shoulder.

“Dude,” Chan grins, “that was embarrassing to watch. You have like, zero rizz.”

Three - the date

Mingyu is doing his best. He’d texted you a safe amount to plan your date. He’d picked you up in an expensive car, held doors open for you, and now, you’re eating at one of the most expensive restaurants in the city.

Even so, Mingyu can tell that something is off with you. As you pick at the appetizer, Mingyu finally gets the courage to ask what’s wrong.

“You want the honest truth?” you laugh, leaning back in your chair.

“Always.” Mingyu puts down his fork and knife, focusing on you completely.

“I’m thankful for the date,” you start. “Taking me somewhere nice is really sweet of you and everything, it’s just… I don’t know. I think lots of men these days think all girls want is money. As nice as this is- as nice as your car is, and this restaurant, I don’t think I’m the kind of girl that fits with this vibe.”

“You’re not?”

You shake your head. “You’re clearly a guy that’s well off, and I’m happy for you about that, but… I feel like when guys take me to nice places, they always expect something in return. There’s this expectation that when money gets put down, the girl has to put out too, just… in other ways.”

“Other ways? Like what?”

You scoff, giving him a look. “You know what other ways.”

Except Mingyu doesn’t know, because he’s never actually been on a date, especially not with a human. He has no idea what sort of expectations are normal, especially in your mundane world. As a cupid, he sets up the matches, but he doesn’t really follow along with the journey and see what his marks get up to after being shot with his arrow.

“Can I be honest too?” Mingyu asks after a moment of contemplation.

“Of course.”

“I uh…” He picks his words carefully. “I don’t really date often. So… whatever expectations you think I might have, just know that I don’t have any. I just want to get to know you. That’s it. I promise.”

You stare at him, and Mingyu gets lost in your eyes. He’s more than happy to wait patiently while you think of a response, it gives him time to appreciate your beautiful form-

“You’re serious?” you ask finally.

“Uh huh,” Mingyu nods. “You seem surprised.”

“I just... You’re all handsome and dressed well, and you have a nice car, and you’ve obviously got money- I just sort of assumed you were a sugar daddy or something. Someone used to taking girls out.”

Mingyu hates the use of the term ‘sugar daddy.’ It’s clear to him that Chan was right about the vibes of his clothing choices, and the cupid will admit that the car he conjured was maybe a tad too fancy. He’s been going about this all wrong, putting up a facade, creating a version of himself that he thought you would like.

Maybe Mingyu truly doesn’t know anything about you. He just hopes this misstep isn't enough to drive you away.

“I’ve been single a long time,” Mingyu admits. “I guess, maybe I got wrapped up in doing the things I thought you would like. I figured most girls like to be wined and dined, but I never really asked you what you wanted to do. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Can we start over?” Mingyu suggests.

You smile softly, nodding.

Mingyu thinks about it for a moment before he comes up with a question that he thinks could redirect this whole situation for the better. “If I could go back, and let you choose what type of date this would be, what would we have ended up doing?”

“I find that first dates where we can walk around and see stuff together are kind of nice,” you admit. “Formal things like this, face to face, over food- they kind of make me anxious. And lulls in the conversation are more obvious.”

You’re very right about that. Every long moment of silence has made Mingyu’s heart race, and he’s rushed to fill it with surface-level questions that never seemed to hit their mark. It’s interesting that he’s learning about dating from you.

Mingyu has never realized how little he actually knows about the rituals of love.

“How do you feel about me covering the bill for our drinks and appetizer, then we can get out of here?” Mingyu suggests.

“You don’t want dinner?”

“If you want food, I’ll get you food,” he tells you, “but it sounds like you’d rather be on a walk, so let's go for a walk.”

You offer him another soft smile, and Mingyu can see the way your pink aura flutters with interest. It’s the first time you’ve really glowed for him tonight, so he knows he’s headed in the right direction with this line of thought.

“A walk would be perfect.”

Half an hour later, the two of you are walking side by side through one of the small city parks.

You were right about the awkward pauses disappearing. Conversation is flowing steadily, and Mingyu couldn’t be happier. You tell him about your job, your friends, the things you do that make you happy, hobbies that have stuck with you since you were younger.

Mingyu is practically overflowing with questions now, and every response you give him is committed to memory.

“It’s such a nice night,” you say wistfully, pausing to look up at the sky, which is visible through a clearing in the tree canopy.

“It is,” Mingyu agrees, taking a deep breath and simply enjoying the moment.

That’s when a familiar cupid flies across his view, and Mingyu’s heart lurches in his chest.

“Should we sit down somewhere?” Mingyu asks, looking at a bench a short distance away. It’s next to a large Oak, and Mingyu hopes that the leaf foliage can give him some privacy with you, away from any curious eyes.

You nod, gently grabbing onto his arm as you begin to walk.

Mingyu’s breath catches at the contact, a jolt of energy running through his entire form. He can feel his heart lurching again, but this is a much more pleasant feeling than before. His throat is dry, and he swallows thickly to clear it, skin heating into something like a blush.

He’s happy you’re not seated across from each other in some stuffy restaurant. With the low light of street lamps that line the walkway, there’s no way you’ll be able to see the flush of his skin. As much as Mingyu is a love cupid, he doesn’t want it to be too obvious that he’s enraptured with you.

He’s terrified that anything he does could scare you off, and he’d hate himself if that ever happened.

“Anyways,” you sigh as the two of you sit down, “enough about me, what about you?”

“Hmm?” Mingyu shuffles, turning to look at you only to find that you’ve angled your body toward him, your gaze fixed on his profile.

“What do you do for work?”

“Uh…” Mingyu doesn’t want to lie to you, but he can’t tell you the full truth either. “I’m a matchmaker, actually.”

“A matchmaker?” you repeat, surprise evident in the tone of your voice.

“Yeah. I set people up.”

“I didn’t know that was an actual job.”

“There’s lots of Korean Ajummas who want to set up their daughters or relatives with good men,” Mingyu explains, opting for a white lie.

“I see,” you nod. “A matchmaker who doesn’t date.”

“Yeah…” Mingyu clears his throat again. “Would you believe me if I said I’m pretty good at my job?”

“Maybe,” you grin. “What makes you good at your job? If not experience in the dating arena.”

“I think I’ve just always been someone who reads people. Matching is in my blood- although, after my mess up on reading you, I’m starting to wonder how successful I’ve actually been.”

“You didn’t mess up that badly,” you assure him. “And when given the opportunity to correct your misread, you did. I’m having a really good time with you now that we’re on a walk.”

“You are?” Mingyu feels like jumping up and celebrating, but he holds himself down to earth. “I’m uh, I’m having a really good time with you too.”

Instead of responding, you simply lean your head onto his shoulder, letting out a deep sigh of contentment.

The cupid holds very still, not wanting to move a muscle in the fear that you’ll pull away.

“Do you have any family?” you ask.

“A few brothers,” Mingyu responds.

“Are you close?”

Mingyu laughs. “With some.”

“Family can be an interesting experience,” you muse.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Mingyu admits, looking out at the dark field in front of you, where Chan does another fly-by.

“I hate to say this, but I have an early morning work thing,” you sigh. “I should probably be getting home.”

“Wanna go back to my car at the restaurant? I can drive you.”

“My place actually isn’t that far from here, I was thinking I might just walk… but then again,” you let out a laugh, “these heels are kind of killing my feet.”

“What if I carry you home?”

You pull away from his shoulder, giving him a doubtful look.

“You don’t think I can carry you?” Mingyu asks in shock.

“It’s not that-”

“Come on,” Mingyu gets to his feet. “Get on my back, it will be fun, I promise.”

You give him another unsure look, but finally you stand too. Mingyu turns around, bending so you can jump onto his back. The moment you’re pressed against him, he feels like he’s in heaven. He can feel your breath along the back of his neck, and it sets every inch of him on fire.

“Hold on,” he tells you, enjoying the way you wrap your grip tighter around his broad shoulders, locking your fingers together by his chest.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you admit with a shaky laugh.

“You trusted me,” Mingyu says, “and I’m not going to let you down… until we get to your apartment.”

You giggle again, and the sound is music to his ears.

“You’re crazy,” you tell him, and yet, your aura is buzzing so bright it nearly envelopes Mingyu with how tightly you’re pressed together.

“Something tells me you don’t mind.”

Four - the fuck up

“You know what you said about zones the other day?” Chan asks while he and Mingyu sit on the ledge of a tall building, looking down at the humans below.

“Yeah?”

“You said that cupids stick to their zones, right?”

“Yup.” Mingyu’s so annoyed by Chan he could scream. They’re supposed to be looking at auras, looking for a target for the day, but Chan’s head is off in the clouds-

“Okay, I just wanted to be sure.”

Mingyu lets out a deep breath, turning to look at Chan. “What was the point of those questions?”

“Just that… well, that’s Seokmin, isn’t it?” Chan points, and Mingyu follows his line of sight. Low and behold, Seokmin is flying two city blocks away, and it looks like he’s trailing something.

“We’re on the zone border,” Mingyu explains, but as he gets a bearing for the auras below, one stands out to him. “Shit.”

“I didn’t know you could cuss, grandpa,” Chan laughs, but Mingyu’s already pushing off from the ledge, his large wings unfurrowing so they can beat at the air, carrying him quickly toward the other cupid, leaving Chan in his dust. “Wait! Slow down!”

But Mingyu can’t slow down, because if he’s correct, it looks like Seokmin is trailing a very familiar pink aura that weaves amongst the muted people below.

Mingyu’s wings are large. They’re the largest of any of the cupids, and yet, as Seokmin draws his arrow, it’s clear that Mingyu’s superior size and speed won’t help him make it to his brother in time.

“Seokmin!” he yells, catching the man’s attention just as he lets his arrow fly.

Mingyu comes to a halt in the air, breath caught as he watches the arrow. It feels like everything is in slow motion, the arrow speeding through the sky toward you-

But then, it’s as if the arrow hits your aura and the pink hue acts as some sort of protective shield. The arrow falls to the ground, bursting into flower petals that melt away into the sidewalk.

“What the fuck?” Chan has caught up to Mingyu, and his words ring true to the situation. “Did Seokmin’s arrow just miss?”

“My arrows never miss!” Seokmin insists, fluttering over.

“But that one did,” Chan points out.

Seokmin’s eyes are wide with shock. “It didn’t! It was going to hit her!”

Chan rolls his eyes. “But it didn’t hit her!”

Mingyu can’t even speak. His gaze is fixed on you. The arrow missed, but you’ve come to a stop in your tracks, as if you could sense the close call you’d just somehow evaded.

“What are you two doing here anyways?” Seokmin glares. “You distracted me.”

“That’s Mingyu’s girl,” Chan responds nonchalantly.

“Who is?”

“The chick you just tried to shoot!”

Mingyu respects that Chan is getting so worked up about this, it’s kind of like the new cupid is trying to protect Mingyu and his love life endeavors.

“Wait, that’s the girl Mingyu likes?!” Seokmin bellows.

“That’s the girl he loves!” Chan insists.

“Can you both just- be quiet for a minute!?” Mingyu can’t deal with their arguing anymore, not when you’re so much more interesting.

He watches you pull out your phone-

“Do arrows even work on her?” Chan asks. “We all saw that right? It like… bounced off her aura?”

“They should work on everyone,” Seokmin responds quietly. “I mean, your arrow worked on Mingyu, for Venus’s sake.”

Mingyu’s phone rings in his pocket, the pocket he’d had conjured into his toga just to hold a line of communication with you. The other cupids turn to watch Mingyu as he lifts the human device to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey you.” Your voice is a little off. “You busy?”

“No,” Mingyu blurts out dumbly.

“Okay, good. Uh… I wasn’t sure if I should call or text-”

“Calling is good,” he assures you.

“That’s good to know.” You let out a small laugh, tucking in closer to the building and away from the busy street traffic. “It’s the weirdest thing, but you just popped into my mind. I guess, usually I let guys ask me out for a second date, and it’s only been two days since I saw you last, but I sort of just thought fuck it, I’d call you.”

Mingyu doesn’t even know how to respond. His mind is running a million miles a minute.

“Mingyu?” you ask. “Are you still there?”

“Sorry, yeah.”

“So… do you want to see each other again?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good!”

Even from a distance, Mingyu can see the way you light up, the way your aura twinkles with pretty pinks and magentas. “When… when are you free?” he asks, dazzled dumb by your beauty.

“This sounds crazy, and I get it if you’re busy, but… are you around?”

“Yeah?”

“Could we meet in an hour?”

“Yeah, I’ll uh…” Mingyu has to physically give his head a shake to speak coherently, “I’ll come pick you up.”

“Can’t wait,” you smile. “Bye, Gyu.”

“Bye.”

You hang up, but Mingyu still feels frozen. It takes a moment before he’s able to pocket his phone.

“Dude, you’re still so lame when you speak to her,” Chan muses, nudging his mentor with a grin.

“We just watched her somehow block a cupid’s arrow,” Mingyu snaps, “excuse me for needing a minute.”

“Mingyu?” This time it’s Seokmin speaking, and Mingyu hates the way he immediately flashes a glare at his brother. “Sorry, it’s just… what’s that on your wrist?”

Five - the red string

Mingyu can’t seem to take his eyes off the red string around his wrist. He picks at the fine threads as he waits in his car for you to come down from your apartment. In fact, he’s so focused on the mysterious new bracelet that he forgets to get out of the vehicle to open your door for you.

When you open your own door it causes him to jump, heart lurching in fright- then he remembers where he is, and he’s quick to pull the sleeve of his sweater down, hiding the red string. “Hi,” he says, forcing a smile.

“You okay? I didn’t scare you, did I?” you grin, getting into the car.

“Sorry, I was just lost in thought. Where, uh… where do you wanna go today?”

“Well, I was going to let you choose, but I didn’t want to end up in a fancy restaurant again, so I was thinking something simple like coffee?”

“Coffee sounds nice,” Mingyu admits. “Any specific place you like?”

“There’s a cafe by the park we were at last time, I’ll give you directions.” You reach over, gently squeezing his thigh. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” he smiles, and this time, it’s not forced at all.

You make it to the cafe. After you order, Mingyu pays, and soon, the two of you are sitting in a cute little secluded booth in the corner. As you tell him about your day, Mingyu watches you take your jacket off. He admires your choice of clothes, the way the colours compliment your skin tone and the pretty pink aura you can’t even see.

When you settle and reach for your tea, Mingyu notices something around your wrist, and he nearly chokes on his coffee.

“You good?” you laugh, reaching out to touch his hand.

“Yeah.” Mingyu steadies himself. “Uh- what’s that red thread bracelet? I didn’t notice that on our last date.”

“Oh, this?” you look down at your wrist, lifting it a little. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“Trust me,” the cupid laughs, “nothing you say could ever make me think you’re crazy.”

You give him an assessing look, but finally give in with a sigh. “Okay, so basically, one of my close friends is a witch.”

“A witch?”

“Still think I’m not crazy?”

“You’re not crazy, but I haven’t met this friend yet,” Mingyu teases.

“Anyways,” you take a deep breath, “she prays to Venus, and she swears on her life that Venus helped her meet her fiance. We had a bachelorette party about a week ago and she got all us bridesmaids these ‘Red Strings of Fate.’ It’s supposed to help us meet our own soulmates, or so she says.”

“Huh,” Mingyu sits back, resting his hands on the table. “I’ve never heard about ‘Red Strings of Fate.’”

“Really? But… I mean,” your gaze dips down, “you’re wearing one too?”

Mingyu’s heart lurches, and he looks at his wrist, where the mysterious red string had appeared an hour ago. “Right…”

“Did you not know about that when you bought it? Or…?” You cock your head to the side, letting out a small laugh. “Honestly, when I saw you playing with that in the car when you picked me up, I’d kind of thought you’d gotten it to match mine.”

“I seriously didn’t even notice you had yours when we were on our last date,” Mingyu admits.

“Hmm…” Mingyu can see a glimmer of something behind your eyes, and then you grin broadly. “I guess maybe it’s just fate, huh?”

“Maybe,” Mingyu laughs.

“Where did you even gets yours?”

“It just kind of appeared,” Mingyu says honestly, only realizing what he’s said as the words leave his mouth.

“It just kind of appeared,” you repeat, looking very skeptical. Even so, you don’t question it, you simply lean back, your aura shimmering. “Guess it really is fate.”

Mingyu can’t even come up with anything else to say, so he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Listen…” you drum your fingers gently against the table, “I’ve been meaning to find a date for Luna’s wedding, but it can be hard to just run into someone you want to take to something like that. Then we quite literally ran into each other on the street, and now this whole string thing… if it’s not to soon, or too last minute, if you’d want to come to the wedding next week with me, I’d really appreciate the plus one.”

“Seriously?” Mingyu can’t believe his luck, can’t believe the cute determined set of your lips when you nod in the affirmative. “I’d love to go to this witch wedding with you.”

“As long as you don’t call her a witch to her face,” you laugh. “I think she prefers the term wicca.”

Mingyu makes a cross over his heart. “I won’t do anything to mess it up, I promise.”

Six - the consensus

The council is silent after Seokmin and Mingyu’s testaments on the oddities related to you. The younger cupids look to the elders to come up with a consensus, and Seungcheol is the first to finally speak.

“An arrow that didn’t strike, a red string, and a girl who thinks she’s a witch.” He lets out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the mess, Mingyu.”

Mingyu stays quiet, looking at his feet as he stands in the center of the council room, Seokmin and Chan on either side of him.

For a new cupid who stands up to his mentor all the time, Chan is being oddly quiet today. He hasn’t said a word, not even when Seokmin and Mingyu were recounting the story of how your aura had seemingly repelled an arrow. Chan’s nervousness is making Mingyu even more anxious, although he’s not sure what he has to be anxious about.

“While I’m certain we all appreciate the report,” Jeonghan says, “this union between Mingyu and his human is ordained by Mother. There’s no use discussing this further.”

“She avoided an arrow. Aren’t you the least bit curious about how a mortal did that?” Wonwoo asks, leaning forward in his chair. It’s not usual for Wonwoo to speak, and the fact that he’s found this story of interest makes Mingyu’s skin tingle with more worry.

Jeonghan makes a face, shaking his head. “No.”

“I’m more focused on this witch,” Jihoon admits, trailing his fingers along his jaw. “Magic isn’t anything new, but I wonder if this friend’s ‘connection to Venus’ is what made our mother step in.”

“I’ve never heard of a ‘red string of fate,’” Soonyoung adds. “This all seems very suspicious. Chan, what do you think?”

Chan fidgets next to Mingyu. “Uh… me?”

“No, the other cupid named Chan.” Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “Yes, you!”

“What do I think about what?” Chan asks dumbly.

Seungcheol sighs, Jeonghan snickers, and other cupids simply seem amused by the new cupid.

“What do you think about all of this?” Soonyoung clarifies. “New age Venus witches and strings of fate?”

“I think…” Chan swallows, looking over at Mingyu. When he speaks again, Chan’s voice has gained confidence, and he squares his shoulders. “I think that this whole thing started when Jeonghan gave me mother’s directions to pair Mingyu up with the girl he’d been trying to match for a while. But even if I hadn’t been directed to do it, when I look at Mingyu and the human, their auras just match. I’ve never seen an aura like hers. The only aura close to it in colour is Mingyu’s. I don’t know anything about red strings of fate or witches, but I do know that nothing bad could come out of a match like this one. Or at least, that’s what my heart is telling me.”

The council is silent while they process the new cupid’s words. Mingyu can feel a warmth spreading through his chest. For a dude who’s been nothing but an annoyance and hindrance so far, Chan is growing on Mingyu.

“Chan’s right,” Seokmin says. “Her aura is just like Mingyu’s. If anyone deserves a chance to fall in love, it’s them.”

“When did you all become so sentimental,” Jihoon groans, but there’s something of a smirk under his unamused expression.

“Seokmin,” Seungcheol’s voice draws all eyes, “since you dragged yourself into this, I want you to go with Chan and Mingyu to the wedding. I trust your opinion more than Chan’s. And Mingyu, see what information you can get from the witch. Even if this is all orchestrated by mother, I want to know the ins and outs of what power this wicca believes she has.”

Seven - the witch’s wedding

Mingyu hadn’t realized that being a plus one to someone in the wedding party meant that he’d be sitting alone in the venue while waiting for the bride to walk down the aisle. He doesn’t know anyone here except for Chan and Seokmin, who are floating around eying up the singletons. Mingyu had made them promise not to shoot too many people today, but there’s already been two meet-cutes and successful matches.

The love cupid is somewhat jealous of his brothers’ ability to work, their ability to form attachments while he’s made to sit and wait. To clear his mind, he fidgets with the red string on his wrist, hidden under his suit.

The red string has become somewhat of a soothing mechanism for the cupid. It feels tangible, in an odd sort of way. He enjoys the feeling as he gently drags it across his skin, looping it over and over again-

Music begins to play through the speakers, guests turn in their seats. A young flower girl walks up the aisle, the petals she’s tossing match the soft pink dress she’s wearing, and the tie around Mingyu’s neck. You’d shown up with the fabric when he’d come to pick you up, bashfully asking him if he wanted to match with you and the bridal party.

It was a small exchange, but it had meant the world to Mingyu. He loves the fact that he’s matching with you and your friends, loves the fact that the bride had chosen soft pink as one of the color themes.

After the flower girl, the bridesmaids begin to file in, arm in arm with groomsmen. Mingyu studies the auras, noting that many of the people in the party have pink tones to match their outfits. He likes seeing so many pinks in one area, it’s no wonder you talk so highly of your friends, you’re all pieces torn from the same cloth. Like him.

You step into view, and Mingyu can feel his heart beginning to race. You look stunning today, even more so than usual. The joy you feel radiates off of you, illuminating your aura with shimmery glitter.

When you walk by, you meet Mingyu’s gaze, and he feels his grin widening. All the waiting has been worth it if even for that one smile, the brief eye contact-

Venus, he loves you.

Everyone stands when the bride enters. She’s dressed in a white laced gown, with flowers in her hair, and pretty rose quartz jewelry. There’s definitely something different about her, a richness and vibrancy to her aura that screams power.

To Mingyu’s surprise, the bride meets his eyes as she walks past, offering a small tilt to her head before she continues up the aisle.

Mingyu thinks about the small motion from the bride throughout the ceremony.

He hasn’t met a real witch since the dark ages. People with a true connection to the gods are few and far in between these days. Mingyu wonders what kind of power your friend holds, and what it means in regard to him and the other cupids floating around.

Even with all these wonderings, Mingyu focuses on the example of love set before him. He listens to the vows, and the grandma next to him offers him tissues to wipe away his tears. The first kiss as man and wife makes Mingyu want to cheer with joy, his heart practically exploding in his chest.

He loves love.

When the bride and groom exit, you stand by the podium, explaining that the reception will take place in a venue two doors down from the ceremony hall. Mingyu watches you hurry out after the bride before he slowly dispurses with the rest of the guests, the kind grandma who had given him tissues latched to his arm for support.

He’s unsure of himself when he reaches the reception. There’s an entryway station that details table arrangements. “What’s your name dear?” the grandma next to him asks, adjusting some glasses on the tip of her nose.

“I don’t think I’m on the list,” Mingyu admits, scanning the seating cards.

He tells the old woman your name and she gives him an amused look. “A plus one to the bridal party,” she nods. “Table one.”

“And where are you seated?” the cupid asks. “I’ll help you there.”

After doing his duty with the old woman, Mingyu finds himself at a table full of pink-souled love birds. They’re all gushing about the ceremony, and are more than happy to welcome the cupid into the discussion. Mingyu’s never felt so immediately at ease, and you find him this way, laughing with his new group of love-obsessed peers.

“Hi,” you whisper, slipping into the seat next to him.

“Hey,” he smiles, about to turn and look at you- only for your lips to press to his cheek. Mingyu’s heart lurches in his chest, his body freezing for a moment before he’s able to look into your eyes. “What was that for?”

“I’m just happy you came,” you admit.

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” Mingyu retorts, and he really does mean it.

Being with you is so easy. He’d fallen for your pink vibration, and now he’s falling for the auras that your friends exude too.

Before Mingyu even knows it, your table is being called up for food. He sticks to your side like glue as you fill your plates, and when you begin to head back to sit down, the bride waves you over. Mingyu sticks to you even as you approach your friend, who stands from the newly wed table with a grin.

“So this must be the famous Mingyu I’ve heard so much about.” The witch grins. “I’m Luna.”

She holds out a hand, and Mingyu doesn’t even hesitate to take it. There’s an immediate jolt of energy that runs through him when their skin touch, and he swallows the lump in his throat. Luna meets his gaze with a steady smile.

“Y/N, would you be so kind as to get me a glass of wine from the open bar?” Luna asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.” You squeeze Mingyu’s arm before darting away.

The cupid opens his mouth to say something, only for Luna to cut him off. “I can see your wings.”

“What?” Mingyu nearly chokes on air.

“And your friends flying around,” Luna’s gaze lifts, trailing Chan as he soars over the dance floor. “Three cupids, and yet you’re the only one with a vibrant pink aura. It’s the pretties I’ve ever seen, aside from Y/N’s, of course.”

“You really can see us,” Mingyu breathes. “My brothers, my wings, my aura-”

“I bet you thought I wasn’t a real witch, didn’t you, big guy?” Luna laughs.

“I mean…” Mingyu can’t even meet her eyes now, especially since she’s just used your petname for him. “Yeah. I didn’t think you were real.”

“Most people don’t think you’re real,” the witch retorts. “Cupids? In twenty twenty four? It’s kind of shocking, not to mention outdated.”

“We’re not outdated,” Mingyu goes to defend himself, but the look Luna shoots him makes his voice catch in his throat.

“My first fiance was a bad match,” Luna says, capturing Mingyu’s full attention with the power of her tone. “Some white haired cupid shot me. I guess he figured I had a pink soul and this man had a red one so we’d even out. But we never did. It was bad. So bad that I started praying to Venus. When I got away from the guy, I was determined to find my next partner all by myself. A match based on actual connection. That’s how I met Jae.” Her gaze floats to her new husband, and an expression of love fills her features, her aura shimmering. “Listen. I know that you cupids try to do what you believe is right, but your matches don’t always work. That’s why I gave all my friends red strings of fate. To protect them from bad arrows… although, based off of the way you look at y/n, I’m pretty sure it’s not her who’s been shot.”

Mingyu can feel a lump in his throat. He can also feel a presence at his shoulder, and Chan leans forward to whisper, “Damn, dude, she read you for filth.”

Luna grins, looking at the new cupid behind Mingyu. “Stop shooting my guests.”

“You got it,” Chan agrees immediately.

“Look, we don’t have much time,” Luna sighs, “but what’s the deal with this whole thing. How did you even get shot? Are you guys drinking on the job, or what?”

“Actually, Venus herself instructed I shoot Mingyu and make him fall for your friend,” Chan defends himself. “Although, he was pretty much already in love with her anyways.”

Luna’s eyes widen in shock. “Venus did this?”

“Indirectly,” Chan nods.

“I don’t trust you guys, but I trust her,” the witch states. “I prayed to her that my friends find their soulmates, and now here you are.”

Could this really all be the witch’s doing?

Mingyu can hardly even think, he can only stand there dumbly, staring at Luna like she’s grown three extra heads and a beaver tail.

“You have to tell y/n,” Luna says, reaching out to touch Mingyu’s shoulder. “You can’t lie to her about all of this.”

“I can’t tell her-” Mingyu tries to argue, but once more, his tongue gets caught.

“You will. And we’ll hang out again soon,” Luna insists, sounding so certain that for a moment, Mingyu wonders if she has the gift of future sight.

“Hey, you two,” you appear at Mingyu’s side, holding out a glass for the bride. “What did I miss?”

“Just your new boo being adorable,” Luna grins. “He’s a keeper, this one.”

“What?” You let out a laugh, looking between Mingyu and your best friend. “But… you usually hate the guys I go out with!”

“Well, I like Mingyu,” Luna shrugs. “Something tells me he’ll be around for a long time.”

With a lift of her glass, the witch goes to sit down with her husband again, leaving you and Mingyu shocked. As you head back to your table, you cling tight to his side. “What did you even say to her?” you whisper.

“I hardly said anything,” Mingyu admits.

“Was it an aura thing? Luna always says she can read auras-”

Mingyu nearly chokes on air and it makes you grip his arm tighter.

“It was an aura thing, wasn’t it?”

“Something like that.” Mingyu doesn’t want to get into auras with you. The witch had been pretty specific about him coming clean to you, but now is definitely not the right time.

He’s very lucky that when you take your seats, a few of your friends immediately strike up a conversation. Mingyu hides behind the discussion, staying in the peripheries while he contemplates what his life has become.

Eight - the time to come clean

If Mingyu had been obsessed with you before the wedding, things are now on an entire other level. After his run in with the witch, you’d invited Mingyu to come dance with you. Holding you close while a slow song played had made the cupid feel in a way he’s never felt. Then, when he’d taken you home, you’d kissed him at your door step.

He can still feel the ghost of your lips pressing across his own, and when he closes his eyes, he can imagine you’re still there with him.

It’s been a distraction to say the least. Two days have gone by since that night, with you running through his mind like an olympic level track star.

You’d invited him to come for a date at your place, offered to cook dinner, and Mingyu’s been practically holding his breath in anticipation.

He fiddles with the string around his wrist as he approaches your home, knocking lightly on the door. His breathing is shallow, and he gnaws on his lower lip while he waits.

Mingyu can’t even help himself when you open your door, he pulls you into an immediate hug, breathing in your scent and letting out a deep breath.

“Hey, big guy,” you laugh, cuddling closer, tucking your head under his chin.

“Missed you,” Mingyu admits.

Your giggling continues. “Luna was right about you being a keeper, mister softie.”

You invite him into your home, giving Mingyu a tour. It’s hard for him to keep his focus on anything you’re saying though. You look adorably comfortable in your cute sweatpant outfit. He’s never seen you laid back like this before, and it feels like an honour that you’re trusting enough of him now to let him witness this side of you.

Soon, he finds himself in your kitchen, doing everything he can to help you prep the meal.

If you’re the head chef, he’ll be your line cook, and be damned happy to do it.

Talking to you is just so easy these days, especially since Mingyu can monitor your aura to pick up on the topics that truly make your heart sing. He sticks to your hobbies, your friends, things that have you glowing. He enjoys when you ramble on, as it gives him a chance to stare at your lips and imagine them on his own once again.

After dinner, Mingyu treads carefully. He’s very conscious of the fact that he’s in your home, and he’d never want to overstep anything with you.

When you invite him to watch a movie, he sits a respectable distance, but when you ask him if he wants to cuddle, Mingyu can feel his resolve getting thin.

He shuffles over to be the big spoon, watching you carefully get in position in front of him. You snuggle back, your bum brushing by the front of his blue jeans, and Mingyu’s breath catches. His hand finds your hip, keeping you still.

You look over your shoulder at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He swallows thickly. “I just uh… it’s nothing.”

There’s a knowing in your eyes, and your aura glimmers with a mischievous tint that Mingyu usually sees with Soonyoung and Jeonghan.

You roll over, facing Mingyu. Your gaze dips to his lips then back up again. “I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.”

“Yeah?” Mingyu’s voice cracks. “Thinking about what?”

“That wedding date was really nice,” you muse, reaching up to trace your finger along his jaw. “I asked a lot of you when I invited you to that, but you came through for me. Luna even likes you, and I don’t think you understand how rare that is.”

“I’m more than willing to please,” Mingyu admits.

“Oh, trust me, I know you are.” You let out a giggle, your aura practically humming with happiness. “I’ve also been thinking about that kiss.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah?” Your grin widens, and you tuck in closer to his chest.

“Can I… do you want me to kiss you again?”

“Mingyu,” you coo, “I thought you’d never ask.”

The cupid takes in a shaky breath, cupping your cheek and staring into your eyes before he closes the distance between your lips. The first kiss had been soft, and this one is just as gentle, however, as you slant your mouth against his own, it begins to last much longer than the first one had.

You let out a small sigh, grabbing at the front of his shirt to drag yourself even closer. Your tongue darts out to lick at his lip and it makes Mingyu groan. His hand slips down to your hip, then the small of your back, pulling you the last few inches so you’re pressed to his chest.

Nothing has ever felt this good.

Mingyu’s spent his whole life matching humans, but now to be matched himself- there’s truly nothing like it in the whole world.

He gets lost in your lips, the way you let out more whimpers. He commits your sounds to memory, his fingers gently pressing at your skin. He’s doing his best not to be overbearing, he wants you to have all the control, and yet, he hopes it’s clear how much he wants you… how much he needs you, like the air he needs to breathe.

Luckily for Mingyu, you don’t mind taking a bit of control. With an annoyed groan, you move to straddle him, forcing Mingyu onto his back while your knees press into the couch on either side of his hips.

Your hands find his chest, and you stare down at him.

You’re so beautiful it almost hurts.

“Is this okay?” you ask.

Mingyu can hardly find his voice, but he manages to let out a choked, “Yeah.”

You lean down, pressing your lips against him again. Your tongue tastes his own, and as he’s leaning up to deepen the kiss, you pull away. Your hand finds his jaw, pushing his head to the side so you can access his throat, where you pepper his skin. You lick at sensitive spots that have him shivering, grabbing at the couch for any grip that can keep him from floating away from how good this feels.

Mingyu knows where this is going. He can feel the blood rushing to his cock, which presses up against blue denim. He can even feel the heat between your own legs, an unspoken need that’s only building with each passing second.

His heart thunders in his chest. He hates to do it, but he whispers your name, prompting you to slow down your movements.

“Yes, Gyu?”

“I need…” he swallows thickly, closing his eyes in concentration. “I need to tell you something.”

“Is now the right time?” you giggle, licking his sweet spot and making a shiver run through his entire form.

“I can’t- I can’t do this without telling you everything about myself.”

“Sounds serious.” You pull away, sitting up so you can look down at him with a frown. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m uh… really okay.” Mingyu does his best to steady his breathing, but with the view in front of him, it’s difficult. “I don’t even know how to tell you what I need to tell you.”

“Take your time,” you assure him, pressing your hand gently to his chest, palm over his heart. “I won’t judge you.”

“It’s not about judgment,” Mingyu sighs, placing his hand over your own. “I don’t know if you’ll even believe me. You’ll think I’m crazy or something.”

“Try me.”

Mingyu takes a deep breath. “I told you I’m a match maker.”

“Uh huh.”

“And that’s true- but… I didn’t tell you the extent of it.”

“The extent of it,” you repeat, and Mingyu can see you trying to figure out where he’s going with this.

“I really don’t know how to say this with you looking at me with your pretty eyes,” Mingyu groans.

“Here.” You lift your free hand, covering your face. “Is this easier?” your words are slightly muffled by your palm, and the goofiness of it immediately relaxes Mingyu.

“Actually, yes.” He can’t help but giggle, and you join in with him while he takes the moment to ground himself. “Okay so basically…” Mingyu takes a deep breath. “I’m a cupid.”

“Huh?” You still have your hand over your face, but it’s clear you’ve furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Luna can verify it. She’s a real witch, which…I was honestly kind of shocked at, and I’m a cupid, so if you don’t believe me about this, I get it, I really do. Listen- I was trying to match you with someone, and I just couldn’t do it. Then a cupid I was training shot me while I was looking at you, and long story short, Luna has a connection to Venus or something and Venus thought it would be a good idea if one of her sons actually fell in love, and now here I am, and it’s a mess, but… yeah.”

You’re quiet for a long moment. Your aura flutters with mixed emotions, and it makes Mingyu’s stomach twist into knots about how you’ll react.

“Can I look at you?” you ask finally.

“Sure.”

You remove your hands from your eyes, gnawing on your lip and tilting your head while you study him. “I want to see your wings.”

“You what?”

“If you want me to believe you, I think I should see your wings. You’re a cupid, right? So you must have wings?”

Mingyu considers it a for a moment. He’s never shown a human his wings before, but he’s also never fallen in love with one either. He lets out a deep breath. “Okay, but I have to be on top to show you.”

You’re quick to agree, and after a short shuffle, Mingyu finds himself kneeling between your thighs. You’re resting on your back, propped against a pillow, and you’re watching him carefully.

“I’m gonna take my shirt off,” he warns you, grabbing at the hem of his white v-neck.

You stay quiet, eyes taking in each inch of exposed skin as Mingyu slowly strips his torso bare.

“I should tell you… I’ve been in human form when I’m with you. But when I show you my wings- when I go full cupid, you might not be able to resist me.”

You rake your gaze across his sculpted chest, enjoying the tanned skin, pretty pectoral muscles and washboard abs. “I’ve hardly been able to resist you like this,” you muse. “Dazzle me, Mingyu. I’m ready.”

The cupid takes a deep breath. When he exhales, he lets go of the walls he’s built up. He allows his full self to come into form, his large white wings taking shape behind him. When he’s human, he kind of forgets about the wings, they’re always with him, just not always physical. Now that they’re out, he can feel the temperature of your apartment, the slight cool sensation against his sensitive feathers.

Mingyu can’t help but stretch the appendages, allowing his full wing span to protrude outward from his back.

He hears a small squeak of surprise that escapes your lips, and you sit up immediately, clearly wanting a better look at the marvelous wings.

“Are you sure you’re a cupid and not an angel?” you ask, your gaze meeting his as your fingers extend to hook in the waistline of his jeans.

“I can be anything you want me to be,” Mingyu whispers.

You lick your lips, eying his wings again. “Are they sensitive?”

“More than you can imagine.”

“Can I… Can I touch?”

Mingyu stares at you for a second. No hands but his own have ever touched his wings. Cupid wings are sacred, like their bows and arrows. Mingyu doesn’t touch his brothers’ sacred things, and they don’t touch his.

But you’re not one of his brothers.

He slowly nods. He can’t find it within himself to give you a verbal confirmation, not when he holds his breath waiting for contact.

“I’ll be gentle,” you promise. It’s almost as if you can sense his hesitancy about this- although, from the tense way Mingyu’s holding his body, he supposes it’s no secret.

As one final show of trust, Mingyu adjusts his right wing, folding it around his body so you don’t have to reach so far. He watches you close the distance between your fingers and the white feathers.

When your digits make contact, a shiver runs through him. You’re quick to pull your hand away, eyes widening. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Mingyu shakes his head, catching his breath. “I just… no one has ever touched my wings.”

“You really weren’t kidding when you said you haven’t dated a lot.”

“I’ve never dated,” Mingyu corrects the white lie from when he’d first met you.

“Never?”

“Never,” the cupid confirms. “I’ve had… interactions with other immortals, but I never let them see my wings. You’re the first human to ever see me. Like this, and in all ways.”

Your aura beats with adoration for him, and the emotion written across your face doesn’t need to be said.

You wrap your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down so his lips press against yours.

Mingyu flattens a palm against the arm of your couch to steady himself, half leaning over your form while the kiss deepens.

You trail your hand from his neck to his shoulder, moving slowly and gently, another wordless communication.

When you touch his wing again, it’s not sudden, instead, it’s anticipated, and Mingyu can’t help the groan of pleasure that escapes him.

Your fingers glide over a feather, tracing it. When you repeat the motion, Mingyu thinks he might faint from how good it feels.

“Oh my Gods,” Mingyu whimpers, breaking the kiss to pant heavily against your neck while you trail your lips along his cheek bone.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, big guy?”

“So good,” he admits, his jeans feeling painfully tight now.

It’s as if you can read him. As if he’s a book that you’ve memorized, dog earring your favourite things. Each touch has him enthralled by you, and each touch is perfection.

You drag your free hand along his chest, moving down-

His breath catches when you cup him through his jeans.

He must be as hard as a rock, and you trace the outline of his bulge, teasing your digits along the tip.

“Please-” Mingyu groans, hips thrusting of their own accord, looking for any friction he can find while you continue to stroke his wing.

“Tell me what you need,” you encourage him, applying more pressure to his cock.

“I need…” the cupid’s throat tightens and the words get caught. There are so many things he needs, he just doesn’t know where to start. Mingyu takes a deep breath, smelling your growing scent of arousal. When he looks down, your aura is practically pulsing between your legs, and it draws all his attention. He licks his lips, feeling confident this time when he says, “I need to taste you.”

“Then taste me,” you practically purr.

Mingyu’s had his fair share of one night stands with sirens and demi gods and other beings of the like- he knows what he’s doing as he gets off the couch and sinks to his knees.

He grabs at you, man handling you into a position that works for him before tugging off your sweat pants.

You release a giggle, leaning back against the couch cushions while he spreads your thighs. Mingyu looks up at you, meeting your gaze as he begins to kiss up your legs, taking his time to pepper your skin.

That pretty pink aura practically blinds him as he works his way closer and closer to where you need him most. He can see a wet patch along the fabric of your panties, and he can’t help but spread your legs open even more, leaning forward to press a kiss to your clit through the silky material.

You let out a sigh of happiness as Mingyu begins to lick and prod your panty clad core. He can taste you along the fabric and it’s driving him insane.

His fingers squeeze your thighs, and he allows you to adjust one over his shoulder- then your toes brush past the base of his wing, causing him to moan loudly. You shiver from the vibrations of it, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair.

He eats you through your panties until you’re bucking against his face- until his cock is throbbing so hard he physically can’t wait any longer.

Hooking his fingers in the fabric, he tugs your underwear down your legs, and then he’s burying his tongue in your core.

You release a squeal of delight, tightening your grip in his hair. You pull him even closer, wrapping your legs around his head as he licks your pussy like he’s never licked anything in his entire life.

The sounds you’re making now are better than all the angel songs Mingyu’s ever heard. He could listen to you whine and moan for the rest of his life.

“Fuck, just like that, oh my God- Gyu-”

He wraps his lips around your clit and you whimper, pussy beginning to throb in preparation for the orgasm Mingyu can’t wait to drag out of you.

Your fingers tug on his hair, and the pain only makes him go harder. He sucks hard on your sensitive bud, flicking at it and groaning at your taste.

Mingyu’s eaten fruit from the Garden of Eden. He’s eaten fairy nectar and every mystical delicacy he could get his hands on. But nothing - nothing - has ever tasted the way you do.

He could get drunk from your pussy- in fact, he already is.

His mind is going hazy, words are losing their meaning. It’s as animalistic as Mingyu’s ever felt, he has two goals: the first, to make you cum harder than you ever have, and the second, to do it again, but with his cock.

“I’m gonna-” you whimper, rutting against his face. “Please, don’t stop-”

Your sounds get pitchier and pitchier until you let out a gasp. Your pussy clenches around nothing while he sucks on your clit, intent on drawing out your orgasm.

You begin to squirm and he holds you down with both hands, eating you out until you’re a moaning, shaking mess.

When your grip loosens on his hair, he pulls away, looking up at you.

You’re an absolute vision. Your chest is heaving under your shirt, your lips puffy from kissing and biting. Your eyes are closed, head thrown back, body still twitching.

Mingyu wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, standing up. He undoes his jeans, pausing for a moment before pushing them down. “Still want this?” he clarifies.

You open your eyes, looking up at him with the most fucked out expression he’s ever seen. “If you don’t fuck me, so help me God, I’ll get Luna to cast a spell on you.”

Mingyu can only laugh. “Like… a love spell?” Mingyu asks as he pushes his pants and underwear down. “Because trust me, nothing in the world could make me more into you than I already am.”

“Is that so?” you grin, pulling off your shirt to join him in nudity.

“Uh huh. Which is why I can’t fuck you on this couch.” Mingyu reaches down, scooping you up into his arms. “Which way’s the bedroom?”

“Last door on the left down the hall,” you sigh, tucking close to his chest.

You pepper his throat in kisses the entire way to your room, where Mingyu gently sets you onto the bed.

“Do we… should we use protection?” you ask.

Mingyu cocks his head to the side. “I can conjure my bow and arrow-”

You let out a laugh, your aura glimmering with amusement. “No, silly, I mean like condoms.”

“Oh…” Mingyu thinks about it for a moment. “Should we?”

“I mean… I’m on birth control…” you look him up and down. “Your magic cupid cock isn’t gonna outsmart the pill, is it?”

“That’s a good question.” Mingyu looks down at his rock hard length, wrapping a hand around it to relieve some of the pressure there.

“You know what? Fuck it.” You hold your arms open for him. “Just get inside of me.”

Mingyu laughs, getting onto the bed. He holds himself over you with an elbow pressed to the mattress, his free palm finding your abdomen. “I should work you open a little first,” he tells you, pressing his lips to your own.

“I don’t mind a little pain.” You reach for his cock, stroking the precum on the tip and tracing the length of it.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Mingyu admits. “Ever.”

You don’t respond, you simply kiss him deeper. Mingyu takes this as a confirmation to drag his fingers down to your core. He starts with his middle digit, teasingly pushing it in and out of your wet hole.

You pump his cock while he works you open, applying just the right amount of pressure to keep him on the edge. He adds a second finger and you mewl desperately against his lips, hips rutting to match his pace.

You’re practically drenching his hand. At this point, he knows you could take him- he just wants to see how much you’ll allow before your beg for it.

Mingyu loves playing with you like this. He enjoys the act of love making, and he’s in no rush- although, his cock is starting to be something near painful with the amount of blood that has him standing at attention.

“Gyu…” you whimper, pumping him even harder.

It’s clear you’re about to beg- but he can’t stand to actually have you do it. He gives in immediately, pulling his fingers from your core. He brushes your hand away from his length, lining himself up with your pussy.

Mingyu presses his lips to yours as he pushes inside, moving slowly so you can adjust to inch after inch of his girthy cock.

You grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself, gently digging your nails into his skin. No matter how hard you try, Mingyu doubts you could actually draw blood, and what might be painful to a human is nothing more than an annoying tingle, but it’s hardly a distraction from the feeling of your pussy swollowing him up.

He can’t help the groans that leave him as he kisses you, finally flush with your body. Your walls throb around him, adjusting to the intrusion.

“Mingyu,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. “Please-”

He begins slowly. Mingyu’s not sure how fragile humans truly are, and he doesn’t want to fuck you so hard that your back breaks. Instead, he takes his time, adding more and more speed and power. He notes your reactions, notes what makes you squeal.

When he’s satisfied with a particular whimper, he stays doing what motion had earned the sound. The whole bed is rocking from his thrusts, and you’ve turned into a moaning mess for him again- but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Shit, you’re so good-” you gasp, breaking the kiss to lick at his throat, circling his sweet spot while he fucks you into the mattress.

Mingyu can’t help himself, he grabs one of your hands, lacing your fingers as he fucks you. There’s something intimate about the hand holding- and when he looks up, he realizes it’s the hands that have red strings on their wrists.

However, as he fucks you even faster, he notices the strings aren’t simply their own bracelets anymore- they’re somehow intertwined.

Mingyu can’t bring himself to think about it too hard, not when your wriggling under him, your wet pussy engulfing him with each thrust-

Your free hand reaches around his back, fingers brushing over a feather, and Mingyu almost cums right then and there.

“Fuck-” he whimpers. “If you do that again, I’m gonna-”

“Cum with me,” you whisper. “Please, I’m so close- if you fill me up, I just know I’ll get there.”

You stroke another feather and Mingyu’s entire body twitches, his muscles tensing with pleasure.

“Please, Mingyu!”

You’re on the verge of tears, and when Mingyu looks down at you, he’s completely overtaken by how much you’re glowing. He’s never seen a human aura glow like yours- and now, you look absolutely godly beneath him.

One more stroke of his feathers has Mingyu groaning loudly. He buries his face in your neck, squeezing your hand as he pushes his cock as deep inside of you as it can go. He can feel each heavy beat of his heart as he fills you with rope upon rope of cum-

Your pussy clenches tightly around him, and from the way you’re moaning in his ear, he knows you’ve reached your high too.

All you can do is hold each other, breathing each other in while you get lost in a pleasure that could never be topped.

He’s in love with you, body and soul.

Mingyu’s not sure how long he cums, all he knows is that he’s practically spent as he comes down from the high. He’s breathing heavily, you both are, and he stays on top of you while you ground yourselves again.

You begin to stroke the back of his neck, and Mingyu takes this as a cue to put some distance between your chests so he can get a good look at you.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Better than okay,” you muse with a lazy grin. “And Gyu?”

“Yeah?”

“As crazy as this is… I love you too.”

It takes a moment for Mingyu to realize what you’re saying, because he hasn’t directly said those words- and yet, he’d betrayed himself multiple times without even realizing it. He’d mentioned getting shot with an arrow, Venus wanting a son to fall in love. He’d even said that no love potion could make his feelings stronger than they already are.

Mingyu had been so lost in you that he hadn’t even known that all of his walls had come crumbling down.

There’s no secret he’ll ever be able to keep from you, and that’s clear now.

But there’s no secret he’d ever want to keep from you.

You’re his other half. His pink aura baby. And staring down at you in the aftermaths of the best sex of his life, Mingyu knows that whatever happens, you’ll be his soulmate till the day he ceases to exist.

Nine - the note

Hi, gorgeous. I’m sorry you have to wake up alone. Duty calls. I’ve got council meetings this morning that I can’t miss. But we’re connected now. One tug on your red string and I’ll know you’re trying to connect. There’s no where in your world or mine that I could go where you can’t reach me. I love you. I’m here for the long run. If you want, I can see you tonight. Give the string three tugs anytime after noon, and I’ll be there faster than you can even imagine.

Hugs & kisses

Love,

Cupid

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! Happy (belated) Valentine's Day to all us Gyu obsessed hotties

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🔮 preview. You’re practically drooling as Mingyu shrugs the fabric off of his body, revealing a form that was literally sculpted by the Gods. You could stare at him forever and never get bored. He’s the sexiest person you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and as you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, earning a loud groan, you know that he’s all yours.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, Mingyu loves pussy, oral (m/f receiving), big dick Mingyu, pussy eating, blow job, hand job, deep throating, face fucking, touching cupid wings as a sexual stimulus, female masturbation while giving a blow job, fingering, squirting, pussy stretching, praise, etc… I petnames. (hers) gorgeous. (his) big guy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.9k I teaser wc. 150

🌙 starring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s Valentine’s Day and you wake up alone, and yet, you don’t really mind.

In the few months you’ve been dating your Cupid, he’s stepped up his game when it comes to checking in on the matches he’s made. As he’s become closer with Luna, and heard her failed love story, Mingyu’s been increasingly diligent on all things human relations.

He’s left a note for you on your pillow, as he does every morning he has to work instead of waking up with you.

You read it with a smile, enjoying all the hearts he’s drawn across the lined paper.

You don’t mind spending the first part of your Valentine’s Day alone. Three rough tugs on the string around your wrist would draw your lover back, but you figure his job is important today of all days.

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svt taglist:

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#mingyu #mingyu smut #svthub #kim mingyu #kim mingyu smut #svt #svt smut #seventeen #seventeen smut #mingyu svt #svt mingyu #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu svt smut #svt mingyu smut #cupid mingyu

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targaryen-dynasty · 7 months ago

Text

THE CURSE OF CURIOSITY.

Aemond Targaryen x twin sister!reader

"While your brother searches the library of the Dragonkeeper Elder for something new to read, you come in contact with some unlabeled fluid. You both learn that it's something meant to aid in the breeding of dragons, however, it also has a unique effect on humans. But lucky for you, your twin is there to help you through the ordeal."

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, dub con, sex pollen (rather fluid lol), p in v, breeding kink

WORDS: 4 K

NOTES: Hope you enjoy me having literally zero grasp on English. 🤭

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

“It’s far too late for us to be here,” you huff, almost annoyed, as you watch Aemond graze his fingers along the spines of the several books kept in the currently deserted chambers of the Dragonkeeper Elder. “What are we looking for here anyways?”

The room is barely lit by anything else than just a handful of candles. Your twin holds a lantern of some sort in one hand, using it to make out the writings that are carved on the books backs.

When there doesn’t immediately come an answer from him, you start to slowly walk around the room, inspecting its decor. “I have exhausted the castle’s libraries, and hope to take something of their collection for my own,” he murmurs, carefully selecting two books.

You stop in your tracks and turn to look at him. Although you’re just a few moments younger than him, sharing the same attributes with your long, silver hair and lilac eyes, you have a much gentler nature than he does, one that doesn’t lend itself to the same mischief you had pursued together as children anymore.

“And you couldn’t have just taken Floris with you? You ought to wed, and doing something together would do no harm to your future union. One sparsely sees you two around court,” you note, slightly annoyed your brother chose to wake you instead of his betrothed.

Knowing all too well that just the mention of the betrothal is going to set him off, you choose to play with fire. If your brother wants your company, he’ll have to put up with your teasing. And just like expected, the notion of being forced into a marriage he doesn’t want to be in irritates him, audible in the sigh he releases. His resentment of the situation has become worse over time as he feels more and more suffocated by the ordeal.

“The girl is as dull as stones. Besides,” he replies with a shrug, “she knows nothing about our family’s history, much less about dragons.” The topic of dragons is something your twin is very passionate about, and you know that the fact that his wife-to-be cares so little about his passion infuriates him. It might be one of the main reasons for his dislike of her. “I have no desire to have Floris at my side any more than she does me.”

His annoyance is palpable, but you don’t feel bad about making it worse. For all the hours he has spent teasing, taunting and annoying you while you grew up together, he gets it back twice and three times over. And although he hasn’t spoken it out loud, you know you’re one of the few people he trusts blindly to be himself around.

“That aside, it would be foolish to read with Floris,” he continues, your silence coaxing him to speak more, “as all she does is gossip with her friends and prattle on about pointless nonsense. You of all people know best how I feel about this match.”

“Floris isn’t so bad, you know,” you defend with a low voice. “And you’ve barely tried to get to know her. Surely you can find at least one thing to like about her. If you did, you might just see she’s not as terrible as you’ve decided.” If you both have to spend your days withering away in marriages sealed by your father and mother, you at least could find a little solace knowing your twin wasn’t as miserable in his.

Aemond sighs in frustration. “You sound just like mother,” he comments dryly, finally moving to look at you from over his shoulder. “Can you really say that you like her? She is dull and naive. I am certain I couldn’t find anything to like about her even if I had all night. There is nothing for me to like about her. Nothing at all.”

Finding yourself at somewhat of a loss of words at this, you open and close your mouth without any words leaving it. Part of you wants to disagree with your twin, as Floris hasn’t been entirely unpleasant to spend time with at court, which makes Aemond’s dislike for her appear entirely without reason to you. On the other hand, you’ve known your brother long and well enough to know when he is resolute about something.

“Just promise me that you won’t be a terrible husband to her. Even if you don’t like her, don’t make your lifes awful,” you finally blurt out.

As you allow your gaze to trail through the chambers once more, you spot some small vessels standing lined up on the desk in the far corner with books and scrolls littered around them. You don’t wait for Aemond to reply as you make your way over, determined to inspect the small containers. The liquid inside of them resembles milk of the poppy, although it’s slightly more permeable to light when you hold it to one of the candles.

You hardly think about the dangers coming with it when you open the lid to inhale a whiff of the fluid. Not smelling entirely unpleasant, it still has you scrunching your nose as a slight burning grows prominent in your nose and throat.

Placing the vessel back down rather quickly, it stands too close to the edge of the desk. You’re not quick enough as it falls to the ground with a clatter, the vessel shattering into pieces and the pale liquid spreading across the floor.

“By the Seven,” you mumble, sinking to the ground to collect some of the larger shards.

The sound of breaking glass and your sighing is enough to catch your brother's attention again. Where he has read the spines of the books before, he makes his way over to the source of the commodation now. “You shouldn’t have dropped that,” he comments dryly, which prompts you to shoot him a heated glare. “Oh, you don’t say, mh?” you reply, your voice laced with sarcasm.

Reaching for another shard, you pull your hand back with a hiss when it cuts your finger. “Ouch!” you exclaim and rise to your feet, soon enough spotting the crimson oozing out of the cut.

Despite his annoyance at your clumsiness, Aemond’s good eye is drawn to the cut you have given yourself. It’s no deep wound, but even the hint of your blood makes something akin to guilt bubble in his stomach. “What were you doing with that?” he inquires, as he takes your hand to inspect your finger, nodding towards the vessels still standing on the desk.

You watch him twist and turn your hand to have the perfect look of the wound, the stinging pain suddenly not too bad with his warm skin on yours. “I… I just wanted to see what they keep here. It is unusual for anyone other than the maesters to store unmarked liquids,” you reply, hissing as Aemond pinches the cut finger a tad too tightly. “I shall see Maester Mellos. Mayhaps this needs stitching.”

“That’s an excellent idea.”

Aemond fetches the books he has chosen from the collection, holding them under his arm as he brings the other to you to place a hand to the small of your back, guiding you out of the Dragonpit.

On your request, the cut on your finger is stitched by Maester Mellos, although he has voiced that it wasn’t quite necessary. But something tells you the opposite, especially when you catch him staring at your face and checking your temperature more than once. “Is everything alright, maester?” you ask him with a soft voice, a yawn following.

Aemond towers over the both of you, carefully watching each move of the needle in the elder’s hands, just waiting for him to make a wrong move that’s meant to hurt you – he’s familiar with being stitched up after all.

The maester seems to be out of his mind, and only reacts as he hears you say his name. “Maester Mellos?”

His eyes are wide, but he nods quickly. “Yes… yes, princess. The wound should be able to heal calmly now.”

He is quick to pack his utensils up again, and even faster to leave your chambers at once. And while Aemond hurries after the old man, trying to catch up on him outside of your chambers, you don’t wait for any of them to return again with sleep coming over you.

The crackling of the fireplace is the only thing audible when you stir awake, a sheen of sweat covering your skin, making your nightgown cling to it uncomfortably. Your body feels as though it’s on fire when you squirm from one side to the other, not finding back to sleep. A tingling spreads in your loins, and each time your thighs squeeze together, it surges up your spine.

“Gods be good,” you whine, utterly bewildered with the feeling of liquid fire coursing through your veins.

Aemond not so silently rises from one of the chairs close to the fireplace, and comes closer to the bed, though, careful not to startle or frighten you as you regain your bearings. He has hoped you’d sleep through the entire ordeal and wake up as if nothing has happened, but that hope slowly dissipates with each passing moment.

“How are you feeling?” your twin asks, concern in his voice. Suddenly, hearing his voice allures you, and doesn’t diminish the burning at the apex of your legs.

As you clench your thighs together again, it releases some of the tension your body holds, and makes you whine in despair. “Aemond…” you pant, your chest rising and falling with your heavy breaths. “What are you doing here?”

The thin sheets covering your body do little to conceal what is happening beneath, and your brother just assumes it’s your way of trying to suppress your bodily urges ignited by the pale liquid you came in contact with before.

“I…” his usual confidence and boldness completely deserts him at the state you’re in, and he can barely find the words to tell you what he’s been told by Maester Mellos.

As he watches you writhe and writhe about on the bed, he’s unsure of how much longer he can just stand there and do nothing. But his concern and love for you cause him to make the decision to act, approaching you and reaching out to grasp your hands.

At the contact, the feeling of his warm hands fully engulfing yours, it’s like something overcomes your mind and body, luring you in to move, staring up at him with wide eyes as you sit on your haunches. “Dohaeragon nyke… kostilus,” you whimper, strands of your silver hair clinging to the damp sides of your face. “Ziry ōdrikagon.. sīr bāne. Nyke sepār – dohaeragon nyke, lēkia.” Yet you don’t quite know what exactly you’re begging for. Help me… please. It hurts… so hot. I just – help me, brother.

In the dim light of the candles, you spot his eye widening as you shift and squirm, looking up at him in such a vulnerable state with your innocent eyes, pleading for him to help you through your ordeal although you have no idea of what’s wrong with you right now. He can’t help but notice how your hair clings to your skin, seeming as if you’ve just bathed, and that your movements seem to contribute to its dampness.

“Mellos has told me what the fluid is that the Elder keeps in his chambers,” he states, trying to stay calm and not let your state affect him too much.

But with his proximity, all effort of you to process what he’s saying is fruitless. You pull on his hands, as if you want to encourage him to join you in bed, and when he doesn’t budge, you rise on your knees, and start to fidget with the buttons of his coat – solely driven by your urges. “And that is?” you mumble, not really listening.

His cheeks run hot when you start to undo the buttons, and his hands capture yours once again to put a stop to it, making you pout. With furrowed brows, his grip finally has you looking up at him. “It’s something used to aid in breeding the dragons,” Aemond states. “He told me it’s also used to increase their stamina and to make them more…” he trails off, his body slowly growing tense as the implication of what he’s going to say settles into his mind. “... receptive to breeding.”

“Mh–Mh,” you hum almost nonchalantly, and watch completely mesmerized as your fingers graze along his, the warmth and softness of his skin only intensifying the tingling in your loins. Aemond is hesitant, unsure whether or not what you’re doing is entirely due to the potion’s effect, or if there is genuinely some desire for him on your part.

You lick your lips and free your hands from Aemond’s to shrug the opened coat off his shoulders. The fabric of his tunic is pinched between your fingers as you tug on it once again to beg for him to join you. With him taking his sweet time, you find yourself clenching your thighs every now and then to soothe the aching burning at the apex of them.

“He also informed me that ‘tis necessary for someone to… help you through it,” he murmurs quietly, his voice almost sounding shaky as he speaks, “... for it will burn you from the inside out if not.”

Even though you’re fully acting on your body's desires, you do notice the way his widened eye trails down to your thighs, lingering there for a moment before it returns to yours.

You don’t give a verbal response to his words, and instead, your only reactions are subtle ones. Nodding your head slowly, as if you’ve understood what he is implying, your hands squeeze his tunic further into his chest. He can practically see your body tensing with each movement of your fingers, almost as if you’re trying to hold back.

With your eyes firmly locked with his now, you slowly trail your hands beneath his tunic, pushing it up to remove that as well from his body to get further access to him – if it wasn’t for him not raising his arms.

Exhaling a deep breath, you sit back on your haunches. His reluctance does little to quell the fire raging within you, no, it only fuels to make you even more desperate. The lacey hem of your nightgown rides up your thighs as you spread them, and fully exposes your undergarments the moment you bring your hand between your legs. A breathy whimper falls past your lips as your fingers finally make contact with your clothed cunt, and then something akin to mischief flickers in your lilac eyes.

“And… will you help me, brother? Or shall I ask Jacaerys for help instead? We ought to wed in a moon's turn after all,” your voice is honeyed as you speak, dripping with feigned innocence. “But you don’t want that, do you? That’s why you’ve stayed.”

You spot the exact moment his breath hitches in his throat. He suddenly feels a wave of heat overcoming him, your words triggering something in him that is more than just the usual desire to protect his younger sister, something primal. You sound and look so vulnerable asking for his help, secretly begging for him and him only.

Intertwining your fingers with his, the intensity of your grip increasing as your senses become more heightened, your twin finally moves as you pull him onto the bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight as you watch him come closer, and when he is close enough, you reach and pull him down onto you in a quick motion. You don’t waste a second more and lock your lips with his, your hand slowly traveling down his back. But before you can grab his tunic and pull it over his head, Aemond pushes you back to lie flatly on the bed, pinning your wrists above your head. His eye burns with hunger as he gazes down at you, visible even in the dim light, and it makes you yearn for more.

“Well, if I chose to leave you here to your own devices, would you crawl to your betrothed for help? I do not think so,” he says, his voice taking over a mocking tone. “No, in fact, I’m certain you would come to my chambers instead.”

When he doesn’t touch you, you try to wrap your legs around his body to grind yourself against him, but Aemond is quick to catch your hip with one hand, keeping your body still as it's pinned to the mattress.

“Sir, dohaeragon nyke,” you beg, voice shaky enough it comes close to a whimper. But when you notice that speaking in the tongue of your ancestors is not having any effect on him at all, you choose to coax him to tend to you in the Common Tongue. “Touch me, Aemond. Help me… please.” Now, help me.

Aemond is silent for a moment, visibly dragging his eye over your squirming frame. One hand still holds your wrists above your head, while the other slowly but surely releases your hip. “I shall take care of you,” he reassures you. “But you will have to let me, do you understand?”

You gaze up at him with wide eyes and slowly nod your head, only for you to pounce on him the moment your wrists are released. The tunic is gone as soon as your body collides with his, causing a strained gasp to leave your twin’s lips. While just the thoughts of his warm skin on yours have incite your mind already, seeing his bare chest sets your body alight.

His demeanor changes in the blink of an eye, and he has never treated you as roughly as he does when he pushes you off of him. It leaves you dumbfounded for a moment, more so when he moves between your parted legs, towering over you.

“Look how dull this fluid has made you,” he mocks, the condescending tone of his voice sending a shiver up your spine. Aemond notices that you’re not shying away from him, no, you keen at that. “Just because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

“If I help you,” he warns, “no one else, let alone that bastard of a nephew, is ever allowed to touch you again, do you understand?”

It might be the liquid-induced state, or the despair to have him do anything to you already, but you’re far too eager to nod at his words.

Aemond’s hand wanders below the hem of your nightgown to heartily fist your undergarments and peel them off of you. He can already feel that the linen is soaked with your arousal, but still can’t stop himself from licking his lips as he sees your now exposed cunt glistening in the light of the candles.

“Now, we do not want you to suffer any longer, hm?” he asks.

And you nod once again. “Gods, yes, please. I need you, Aemond.”

You don’t have to beg him any longer. He undoes the laces in the front of his breeches and pulls out his throbbing cock, painfully hard and aching to be buried inside of you. It’s slightly curved and thick, and if you have to guess, you’d say that you need both hands to pleasure him, and even then there’d still be a bit of him that would be left abandoned.

Aemond wastes no time in lining himself up with your entrance, pushing into you as you both moan in unison. You don’t expect him to set up a merciless pace almost immediately upon fully bottoming out, but you’re not disappointed either.

While you’ve been able to talk before, he’s quickly reduced you to a whimpering and whining mess, relishing in the delicious burning of accommodating his sheer size.

“Does it help?” your twin asks through gritted teeth, desperately trying to keep his sounds of pleasure at bay. But you’ve been fucked into a stupor by him already, not even able to keep your eyes open. “Mh-mh,” you hum.

Putting some of his weight onto you, Aemond’s hand finds your throat like the most treasured necklace you only take off to sleep, taking up the entirety of your neck and leaving no room for you to shift even the slightest.

It was subtle at first, but the merciless pace slowly changes into something more determined, his hips rolling with each thrust as if he wants to make sure the tip of his cock really brushes your sweet spot every time. He’s seemingly spurred on by the way you’ve lost all inhibitions, not that the fluid allowed you to have any in the first place, and the wanton moans that spill past your lips.

One of your hands grabs his wrist, keeping his hand around your throat, while the other finds solace on his shoulder, gripping it tightly. Your nails dig into his alabaster skin, and you’re sure that crescent shaped marks will bloom there not long after, staking your claim on him.

“But you need more,” Aemond grunts, and you can’t do more than whimper a pathetic string of yesses. “The only thing that will truly help you is for me to fill you up with my seed, to breed you.”

Your head tips back in plain bliss, and you’re not sparing one thought to the possible repercussions of him putting a child in you. If anything, there is something buried deeply inside of you that has waited for this moment. You have waited for this moment. You grew up thinking you’d marry your twin one day, only for the rising tensions inside of the family to force you to marry your nephew instead as the final straw to mend the chasm.

Aemond’s stamina doesn’t seem to be able to handle the way your body reacts to him and his words – not when a renewed wave of your arousal drips from your cunt at the mere thought of you carrying his child. It’s running thin, ready to burst at any given moment, hence he brings a deft finger to your pearl, rubbing it with frantic movements that should bring you to peak just in time with him.

The pressure brought to your pearl has your body squirming, not anticipating it and the shiver of pleasure that comes with it. You arch your back and moan, yet a tight squeeze of your throat is enough to bring your attention back to him.

“Do you want that?” he pants, dark blown eyes fixed with yours. “Want me to put a babe in you?” It might be his way to ask for your reassurance, and while your body’s reaction should be enough with your walls clenching around him so tightly, he stills wants to hear your voice.

Your cheeks grow hot as his words finally seem to settle in your hazed mind, a whiny ‘yes’ slipping past your lips. “Fill me up, Aemond… please. I want it,” you all but beg, your voice croaked with him squeezing your throat.

The confession flips a switch inside of you that allows you to let go, your body shattering beneath Aemond with a pathetic whine. He relishes in the way your walls flutter and spasm all over him, utterly mesmerized as relief etches itself into your features.

With a groan, the first wanton sound of pleasure you’ve heard of him, Aemond spends himself inside of you. He connects your lips in a heated kiss that has you swallowing down each grunt and groan he unleashes. Working you both through the blissful highs, his hips only stop once he’s sure he’s fucked his seed as deep as possible, determined to put a child in you.

Aemond topples over into the vacant space next to you, his breeches soaked with your arousal and his chest heaving with his breaths.

The sudden loss of friction makes you whine at first, but is quickly overshadowed by the feeling of relief. “Thank you,” you whisper through heavy breaths, turning your head to look at him.

“I won’t leave now,” he says softly, although there is a linger of mischief in his voice. “I would be remiss not to aid my sister in her hour of utmost desperation… so, I shall stay the night just to make sure you really get through it.”

Aemond Taglist: @persephonerinyes @dr-aegon @schniiipsel @thekinslayed @baizzhu @legitalicat

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guided-by-stars · 3 months ago

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One of the aspects of the systems of belief established in ISAT that makes it so fascinating to examine is that they are are centered around praxes that aren’t focused on as much in the major religions in our world.

Much has been said about how the Change belief encourages self-exploration, (transness is seen as holy, exploration of identity is encouraged) and pressures those who don’t want to change who they are (Mirabelle). The underlying core of the Change belief is action. Active Choice is more encouraged than anything else. The choice to change your body, the choice to change yourself, the choice to change your circumstances, the choice to go on a pilgrimage, the choice to learn new skills, etc. Of course passive change is also celebrated- death is seen as just another Change, and I assume that would apply to aging in general (appreciation of elders?), but it’s not as pushed. In this way, the Change belief encourages autonomy, control over your own life, and ownership of your life circumstances.

On the other hand, those who believe in the Universe as a force of power in the world are faced with the opposite pressure. When the King and Siffrin are relating for the first time over their shared culture, they both remember the phrase “The Universe leads, we can only follow.” The underlying core of their belief is that what is fated must happen, it’s inaction. Passivity. Any drastic action that is taken is justified by it being a path the Universe led them on. When the King starts the battle, he says “Let’s see which side the Universe favors!” Whoever ultimately wins at the end was fated to win, and that could never have been changed. It’s about resignation, acceptance.

This ultimately impacts everything about how the story plays out. When Siffrin first realizes he’s in a time loop, he’s excited! The Universe has given him the power to change things! He’s being led on a path where he can protect his friends and make sure everything is alright! They’re fated to win! As the futility of his quest sets in though, he very quickly turns to resignation instead. What’s the point of getting upset over having to die again and again? There’s nothing he can do about it. The Universe leads and he can only follow. If anyone else was the one looping, they would probably react quite differently just due to that.

However, it’s more complex than just that. What about Wish Craft? Isn’t that purely about taking action, making a Change? Well, partially, but because of the culture that everyone who knows about Wish Craft is part of, it’s seen more as appealing to the Universe. Asking, pleading, for the current to bring you down the left stream instead of the right in the fork in the waters. If you gain something from Wish Craft, you were given it, you didn’t take it. Once again, it’s passive. If Wish Craft was a Vaugardian thing, it would certainly be seen differently.

If the Change belief’s focus on action encourages autonomy, control over one’s life, and free will, what does that say about the Universes resignation and acceptance? Once again, I’m reminded of Euphrasie repeating words as if she’s prerecorded, skipping like grooves on a well-worn CD.

There’s also something to be said about how, in the Change religion, they appeal to a deity, one that you can have a personal and positive relationship with, and those who believe in the Universe are believing in an unfeeling force of nature. None of this is to say either is more beneficial than the other, the pressure to always Change can be extremely destructive, and sometimes acceptance is much better than change. It’s just fascinating how much they come into conflict with each other.

#religion!#in stars and time #isat #soliloquy #action vs inaction…

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nothing0fnothing · 9 months ago

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As a young girl in the church I was taught to "respect myself."

We were told it from every angle. Our teachers, our preachers, our parents. "As a woman you have to respect yourselves." "How can men respect you if you're not respectful of yourself?"

I'm not sure why an 11 year old girl needed tips on how to make men respect her, but they felt it was important nonetheless.

So I educated myself and spoke my mind. I wanted to be respected for how clever I was. I asked questions that were thoughtful and well reasoned, I corrected elders when they were wrong and I focused on knowing as much as I could.

They didn't like that.

So I put all that aside, and instead I learned about feminism. I decided I should be respected for how firm I was. I said no loudly and clearly. I made my boundaries known and I reacted loudly when they were crossed.

They didn't mean like that either.

So instead, I put myself in therapy. I wanted to be respected for how self assured I was. I started caring for myself and putting me first. I healed from my trauma and learned how to not repeat old cycles, and everyone who I could, I brought them up with me.

They didn't like that at all.

No, apparently the type of self respect they wanted me to learn was the type where I beleived lies at face value, said nothing to those who crossed my boundaries and wallowed in depression and toxic cycles. But also like, while keeping my shoulders covered or something.

Silly me.

#religious trauma #anti religion #vent post #toxic parents #childhood trauma #feminist #intersectional feminism #radical feminism #feminism #feminism is for everyone

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cutieeva · 2 months ago

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Lost

Female reader

Warnings : Mention of infidelity. Trauma. Stalking.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

Once trust is broken, it is harder than we think to mend it as it once was. A definition of (Y/N)'s relationship.

Perfection.

What a odd word isn't it ? something every being wants to learn and showcase yet behind close doors we all know in the back of our minds it's impossible. After all, perfection is a word for fake which is the opposite of what people want— real, something that is permanent, something that could be held, captured, savored. Perfection is a skill both admired and envied upon and (Y/N) can't help but come to doubt the perfection she once fell for.

Cameron. The man of perfection and the man she fell for only to doubt his every little move now. His gentle smile adoring the moment of her sight, eyes crinkling at the side by how large the happiness is craved out of him. It's sweet, truly, never did it not warm her heart and cast thousand butterflies on her stomach by how beautifully happy he looked to see her, and her only but suddenly she has come to doubt if it's even genuine or not. Suddenly she notice the smile too wide, too large, too happy, too fake that she wants ask. After all how it's possible to bright up so much like a sun glowed in the sky by seeing one person even if it's her who is his girlfriend. How ?

Just like now the moment of her heels touch the ground making a satisfying clicking noise entering a room, once their eyes met and he shine like the brightest sun she never imagined to have for herself. Again those tender lips, sparkling eyes too clear for any stranger to know he loves her and hard.

"How lucky ?"

"Awww !"

"Bless him".

"Lucky her"

These would be the frequent comments utter from literal stranger's mouths and perhaps— no for sure her past self could blindly agree dwelling into her own version of fairytale where Cameron was her prince charming and she, a pleasant he fell for. Well, at least that what in collage they are known for. The modern version of Cinderella, a very....interesting title it was when it first pass her ears yet time pass and it turn into a nasty taunting name for her as if hinting at something she was unaware like a insider joke that she was an outsider. Even her lovely boyfriend seems to hate it not at her level of hate like she despise it. Wishes to burn every tongue that ever deicide to merely utter that to her. Only if she could do she wish.

"Darling, sit". Like a gentleman he is pull her chair and let her sit on the wooden cold surface facing her own parents who seems to be in awe staring at their daughter's relationship as if it's a angel asked for her hand when he in her view seem nothing but a human good at masking his flaws, too well for her liking. Because see, the way those slender pale hands caress her own hand under the table like she is a flower touched carefully yet softly almost melt her heart if it didn't turn into stone now. (Y/N) didn't care to hold back, blankly staring at the white empty plate served in front of everyone and she like a doll waited to be served food despite having no hunger or whatsoever. Slowly she move her head, her (E/C) eyes watching the same smile craved out of him, towards her parents holding huge utensils to serve the meal he specially made to impress his future in-laws, his words not hers.

"Oh ! son, you don't have to do it !" Her father said, laughing carefree.

"It's okay, father. Let me at least have the honor to serve the elders". Kindly her boyfriend utter.

"Such a good man. How lucky my daughter is to have you". Placing one palm under her cheek, her mother watched him in pure delight.

"It's the opposite. Actually I am lucky to have her". His bashful comment earned more heart points than it already been taken as they laughed, enjoyed, indulge in their little bubbles that (Y/N) almost forget it's her parents and she is their family in here not him looking as if he is their son yet truly, in her angle she invisible, forgettable, easily a abandon thing that's why she use to question herself a lot. Why did he choose her ? why did he love her ? what is so special about her ? how could she not when he had oceans of girls waiting to just be looked by him, in campus he is the prince every girl dream and every boy befriend due to his looks, personality, popularity, riches. Coming from a wealthy family and still be a humble polite man isn't a daily view for everyone to see, he truly seemed like a sun to everyone, beautiful to look at but never be touched and owned, yet she a nobody has the chance to become a infamous girl who tame the sun. Perfect elements to gossip, spread rumors, talk down to.

Never passed a day did no one ever forget to remind her how insignificant she was to him and he was there to catch her, in his warmth of arms to show how significant she is to him and him alone and that all it matter and that it all took for her to be a idiot in love.

"Honey, eat before it's cold". Sweet his voice is, kind his eyes are that bore into her blank ones— deviod of love or any emotions, she doesn't know if he pretends to be blind to her lack of response or he simply doesn't care enough. Wordlessly she turn her head down to her this time meal served on plate— her favorite dish and their first date dinner together.

Carelessly her fingers wrap around the cold sliver fork like her heart tremble feeling and about to dig when ever so smoothly, like a cream of butter he swap the plate from hers to his. Smiling ear to ear boozing of tenderness. "Eat mine, yours is cold already". She didn't need to glance up to see her parents reaction or the warmth coming from him. She stilled like time does when a watch is broken, tramped. Listening to the clicks of plates, giggles of their voices, quiet noises of chewing, shower of compliments regarding the dish and still she didn't touch her food. Hunger seems to left her, emotions seems numbs, voices of them seem tiny and the reality feels surreal.

Oddly her visions seem distorted and water drops falling on top of the dish and something inside tells her it's will taste sour.

Is it raining ?

"(Y/N)...". Cameron's voice turn delicate, carefully calling her name. "Why are you crying ?" At the end of his sentence his voice cracked as if he was the one crying.

Oh. (Y/N) realize, blinking her tears away dripping to her meal, she discover more that it is indeed raining however inside her. More sour tears roll down, her lips didn't sob, her expression remained blank yet her tears fell one after another worrying her family and Cameron.

"I am sorry, Mister and Mrs. (L/N) but (Y/N) seems to be not herself and she needs time. Hopefully you will excuse us". Swiftly her body met his embrace, cold, hard unlike the light and mellow she was used to. "How fake". She thought letting him whisk her away in the car, watching her home disappear into the night and arrive in their shared apartment near their university and she find herself in their shared bed, feeling his choice of fabric underneath her skin, melting into his arms underneath her skin as he tenderly pat her back, rock her body like a baby, place her head on his chest, caressing her head and humming a song, a song they discover at their third date they like. "How cruel". She thought, dried tears on cheeks, not a shred of comfort she is finding nor searching. You can't expect to find gem in plastic can you ? so does she, staying motionless.

"Honey, can you please wait, I need to quickly go to washroom okay ?" Assuring like a child, he kiss her forehead deeply before pulling away leaving her alone with her thoughts and the room. The thud of door closing was almost unheard if not for the silence she was surrounded in when another noise pierce through the air.

Ding !

Her (E/C)'s flicker to the phone screen lit on the desk. His phone and she knew she had to look, to confirm her suspicions and catch the man red handed unlike the first time. How ironic, before such thoughts won't even cross her mind and now like a plague it's everywhere poisoning her, killing her softly. Her hand like a vice hold his phone the notification read inside her mind. 'Meet me tomorrow secretly'.

The door open revealing Cameron who came as fast as he could to console (Y/N) and his eyes met hers where she is sitting as before with his phone kept on the wooden cupboard and he smiles again bathing her in utter devotion. "Disgusting". Her eyes daze in disappointment. She knew he was having an affair, after the confront incident they had, never was they the same and will never. He never changed but she did and they both are aware of this yet no one dare speak out loud afraid of the illusion they built together to crumble once again.

"I will do it again". She decide tomorrow to end it all. For good.

Tomorrow came faster than she expected even by not finding a ounce of sleep, the other side of her bed felt heavy with his weight reminding of his suffocating presence at the same time he seems not to be present or maybe she is one instead of him.

"I can't go to university". Her vague answer didn't look to affect him as he lean in to close the gap of their lips, slender fingers stroke her either (S/C) cheeks and loving lips mold hers and starstruck eyes stare into her. A endearing moment she wished to capture if not for the knot inside her stomach wants to pull away, slap away.

"Okay, rest as much as you wish". He easily took her wish like she easily fell under his spell. Watching the man she loves pull away and go out taking his belonging to university which she knows is a lie. He is meeting behind her back and repeating the same heart tugs moments on another woman.

The moment (Y/N) felt him driving away on his car, she wore a white hat, a random coat and sat on the cab she booked few minutes ago and told the driver to follow the white car while her eyes dart from her her phone screen looking at the GPS tracking on his phone to his real time car, the tracker was set on him long ago not yesterday where she didn't even had the chance to unlock and read their chat properly because the password isn't what she thought, what she hoped. Her birthday nor his was enough to unlock. Another proving point of how fake his exhausting pretense of loving boyfriend is after all no lover boy as him would not set her birthday as his password. She knew what a ploy is once she sees though it and once was a mistake, twice would be intentional.

The car stopping snap her attention and she watch him go out of car and inside not the university he lied to but to a hotel. A luxurious one even she wasn't invited by him. How special the girl has to be, prettier ? younger ? richer ? doesn't matter when it ends all.

Hurried her footsteps were, walking though the doors opened by the guards and following him waking pass the lobby into somewhere else like he was familiar with the surrounding, nodding heads with the receptionists who mirror his actions and her heart skip more, odd emotions flood in she unable to understand.

She paused. Finally her eyes wide.

In front of her stood the same loving boyfriend hugging a girl passionately, grinning ear to ear and sat besides each other tasting meals like a date of rich people. Indeed she is far beautiful, charismatic, wealthier. Watching them enjoy, exchange dishes like a couple makes a odd sense of relief and betrayal wash her and without shame her feet march towards them, not a second pass of them finally noticing her, she smash the very dish he is enjoying to his face earning a yelp from her and (Y/N) did it again and again and again until stuff members of hotel pulled her away.

"I hate you cheater !" Cameron with difficulty look up, staring at her with pain, sadness ignited anger, disgust and satisfy inside her. Anger for how dare he acts to be in pain when the knife stab her and she is bleeding. Disgust to find the boy she thought the most beautiful so ugly and satisfy at least she brought him the same pain he did if not less.

"(Y/N) !" A familiar exclaimed turn her head. "What are you doing ?" A disbelief grasp slice the air by her best friend, Sophia and other boys and girls she knew from university. But what caught her eyes is the balloons held on their palms written Happy birthday (Y/N).

"W-what is going on ?" Her words stutter and in the split second the familiar place blur to strange, filled with questions and unreal like the knowledge she grasp was also a ploy she mistaken.

"My darling, today is your birthday and I was hoping to surprise you". His eyes relaxed as he tried to step to her to which she step back not wanting to believe his words. How could it be possible, it's impossible for her to forget her own birthday and even if she did, he was the liar at the end. A fake person. "This girl is the daughter of this restaurants and helped me to arrange the best dishes only". No. No. No. No. She shake her head, what prove does he have he is not lying.

"It's true, we are here to tell him your favorite likes, dislikes". Sofia answered averting her eyes as if too offended at her sight. Her words sting (Y/N)'s heart.

"We were only tasting the food—".

"What's your password ?" He pause like a information shone at him she didn't like.

"It's you". A snarl twist on her face. See, he is lying, he always was and still is.

"Liar !" With pain she screamed she didn't knew had inside her regarding him.

"No". Cameron shook his head gentle, appearing almost like an angel that her heart ache to believe his words. Believe him. "It's true, my password is the day we first met". And to confirm he in front of her type the date her mind clearly recalls and it opened along the rest of chatlog she couldn't read discussing about her birthday.

Tears swell in her eyes and her mistake came to light however there is also a realization sink in her mind that she no longer loves this boy, she loved and the perfection she fell for now become the very thing she come to loathe and it's all because of that bet. A silly little bet he made to date her and after she knew it, she still welcome him in her life forgetting to open her heart to the point every loving actions of his seems like a act of betray, sweet nothings seem blunt lies, loving care of his— fake. His betrayal hit her so hard she lost trust. The entire time when she was worrying about losing Cameron in reality loving him she lost herself and the twisted relief of seeing him with another woman was a fleeing excuse to break up. Once she believed the love fairytale and twice become too heavy to bear.

Her legs give up as she land on the ground, all alone. How could this happen ? how in process of loving him did she lost herself. Her happier, brighter, forgiving, trusting self ? maybe in the end she didn't forgive him for the bet she thought she did.

𝑻𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒅

☾ ──────────

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sneakygreenbean · 2 months ago

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so we all know that the 36 Lessons of Vivec is considered Vivec's confession- and apology. But what I think yall are sleeping on is the Fables of Almalexia, both the Homilies and the Fables for morning, afternoon, and evening.

Each story in the four books written by Almalexia ends with a moral or lesson, and it is not uncommon for one of the Tribunal to feature in the stories as well. While a few lessons are based on real world fables (such as the Boiled Kagouti or the Gifted Guar), many of the others had lessons that directly related to the flaws and stories of the Tribunal. I think these fables that likely every dunmer child who went to temple heard, were all confessions of their own, and warnings just the same as the 36 Lessons.

Obviously, I don't care about all of these, you can read them yourself and come to your own conclusions, (hell, even synthesize them with some of the 36 Lessons, that would be fascinating for me to read) but I do want to talk about a few of them.

"Sotha Sil and the Scribs" has the moral "And so Sotha Sil discovered that the idle amusements of one may be the solemn tortures of another.", and looking on Sil's character in The Elder Scrolls: Online it is obvious that he sees mortals- even his own disciples- as somewhat lesser than him. And as a god, this belief is not wholly undeserved. Sotha Sil is significantly more powerful, older, and in many quantifiable ways *better* than the mortals he rules, that's just in the territory of being a god. But when the mortals- the scribs, in the fable- suffer, Sil is at best distant and apathetic, seeing suffering as not only not his responsibility, but also inevitable. Luciana Pullo's diary shows us a lot of what this looks like from the perspective of a mortal, even a powerful, interesting mortal that Sil obviously respects.

in "The Tallest Shroom Beetle", a beetle ""ascends"" by climbing, and is killed by a cliff racer. The moral here is stated to be "forsaking one's nature brings nothing but ruin." which would read as terribly hypocritical if taken at face value. The Tribunal, who were once mortals, warning others not to forsake their natures, to me more likely shows regret than hypocrisy.

In "The Friendly Alit" the lesson we are to learn is that "that which we hate in ourselves is often our greatest gift". Sotha Sil is the easiest to compare this to when we see his relationship with time- more on that later. I have thoughts on Almalexia that cannot be summed in a tumblr post about childrens fables, but believe me when I say I've been thinking about her. Despite this, I don't have an answer for what Almalexia might hate most about herself- she is the member of the Tribunal that we know basically nothing about before she becomes a god, her backstory being swallowed by her marriage to Nerevar. She is basically shown as having no weaknesses, and her actions are difficult to interpret even at face value.

Certainly related is the idea of Almalexia or one of the other Tribunal admitting their flaws (it is worth noting that in the Homilies, Almalexia is directly cited as the author, whereas in the Fables for Morning, Afternoon, and Evening, there is no author given. We have *assumed* that these were written by Almalexia, I mean, her name is on the cover, but it is only listed as a group of fables.)

in "The Crow and the Netch" the moral is "none can change their own weakness". Once again I think this is related to the hindsight we see in "The Friendly Alit", which seems to suggest that, if we are to seriously consider these fables, they might show the regret of the Tribunal. Each sees themself as weak in their own way, and even after sacrificing everything to destroy that weakness, they are still the same.

Related, in "The Child of the Councilor", the lesson learned is "We often forget to be thankful for what we have, when thinking only of what we want."

Many of the Homilies can be seen as confessions of regret, hindsight regarding limitations, and most importantly, flaws. I will probably end up writing an essay on this when i get around to it because I'm really normal

#36 lessons of vivec #the 36 lessons of vivec #homilies of blessed almalexia #morrowind #tes morrowind #tes #almalexia #sotha sil #vivec #eso #teso #tes online #the elder scrolls online #elder scrolls online

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bestworstcase · 11 months ago

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in light of the v9 lore confirming the unreliable nature of jinn’s narration (light was not the “elder” brother), together with the glaring falsehood in the narration implying that salem lied when she truthfully “blamed the end of the world on the gods”

i’m not hedging anymore. we cannot trust jinn’s account of what salem told people during her rebellion, full stop.

“If she were to turn humanity against Light and Darkness, she could rid herself of their curse—or at the very least, she could make them suffer. Salem traveled from one kingdom to another, telling tales of how she stole immortality from the gods, inviting any swordsman to cut her down, and demonstrated her powers. With the kings and queens in awe, she pulled them deeper into her scheme; she painted them pictures of a time when they would no longer have to watch their loved ones wither and die, when they could claim the powers of their creators for themselves, and in turn, perfect their own design. All they needed to do was destroy their old masters.”

jinn describes this campaign as if salem deceived everyone, maliciously tricked them into serving as pawns in her hatred of the gods—but

when she’s beaten, salem stands up and vows to “tell the world of this massacre”—she’s enraged and horrified on behalf of the slain. she’s horrified when the god of darkness tells her he killed everyone. her reactions do not support the implication that these people meant nothing to her.

there is a strong ideological continuity between “overthrow our old masters, claim the powers of our creators for ourselves, and perfect our own design” and “we could be the gods of this world […] create the paradise the old gods could not.” this continuity suggests that salem actually believes in this cause, enough to hold onto it for millions of years.

so, did salem really claim to have ‘stolen’ immortality from the gods… or did she tell her allies that she became immortal through submersion in the fountain of life? that the gods can bring people back from the dead, and simply choose not to because they care only about enforcing their will? did she “pull them deeper into her scheme” or did she talk openly of what she had learned about the cruelty and fallibility of the gods? did she deceptively trick people into following her with fantasies of immortality or did she just pull back the curtain to reveal that the permanent ending of death only existed by arbitrary divine fiat that self-evidently can be changed?

just as jinn’s narration framed salem implicitly vowing to revere darkness above light if he helped her as salem deceiving and manipulating him by “making no mention of his elder” (<- why would she? this bargain was between her and darkness), this account of what salem did to foment rebellion against the gods aligns closely enough with the truth (salem did gain divine power, eternal death is an arbitrary rule, and the gods are fallible) that what it really comes down to is whether we trust jinn’s description of salem’s intentions.

did salem lie, or did she tell the truth in defiance of how the god of light thinks the world should be? did she deceive people, or did she reveal the brothers’ deceptions?

the god of light—and therefore ozpin and therefore jinn—see salem as a puppet-master making the whole world dance to her tune. “who has led you down this path?” he asks. she’s his scapegoat. but salem knelt before thrones and invited people to slit her throat to prove that she was telling the truth, and she isn’t the one who leads the army into light’s domain; she walks among them, not in front. in a story told with such robust symbolic language, that kind of storytelling choice matters.

she may have started the rebellion, but it became bigger than her; i don’t think salem even saw herself as their leader, necessarily. otherwise why not lead the way?

jinn’s narration—ozpin’s side of the story—devotes so much effort toward creating the impression that salem is a duplicitous, manipulative liar (like ozma), and then… salem hates being lied to. salem yells and throws tables when people lie to her. the cruelest thing salem can think of to say to oscar when she decides to hurt him is “the lies come out of you so easily; likeminded souls, indeed.” the opening lines of the show amount to salem saying that ozpin’s legends and fairytales aren’t true, that he’s obscured the “forgotten past.” both of her songs rage against ozma’s deceit—maidens and kingdoms wrapped up in a lie, and these children you mislead, and the more you try the more you’ll just breed hate and lies/truth will rise revealed by mirrored eyes. salem as a character is consistently associated with the truth and her hatred of deception is one of her most pronounced traits.

the lost fable is unreliably narrated—we now know this for a fact, because jinn describes the god of light as the elder brother and that is not true. there are many noticeable discrepancies between the narration and what’s actually shown. “stories aren’t reality” and “truth is hard to come by” are overtly-stated themes. and the lost fable answers the question “what is ozpin hiding from us?” and is thus presented strictly through his eyes.

in the fairytale anthology, ozpin helpfully informs the reader that stories like ‘the girl in the tower’ and ‘the infinite man’ are propaganda, not the truth.

so…

do we really believe this repeated claim that every word out of salem’s mouth is a manipulative lie? words we’re not even allowed to hear for ourselves? when the characters telling us that salem lied are ozpin and a bound spirit recounting ozpin’s side of the story? in the unreliable narrators show?

is the word gullible written on the ceiling?

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mononijikayu · 4 months ago

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“dear theodosia” — gojo satoru.

"I'll be here," he murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. "I won't let you become a story. I'll fight with everything I have to be here, to see you grow, to love you." “Satoru, you’ll live a long and happy life with us, with me,” you said, looking at him tenderly. Worry echoed in your eyes, though. “You and I, we will grow old together. And die on the same day with our grandchildren and great-grandchildren around us.”

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, family, comfort, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, mention of pregnancy, mention of breastfeeding, mention of postpartum effects, depiction of the aftermath of birth, depiction of parenthood, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 4.6k words

LISTEN: dear theodosia by lin manuel miranda and leslie odom jr.

NOTE: prepared to be sick of me because this entire time, you'll only be getting musical themed song inspired stuff because the songs have gotten back to me and kicked me into the nostalgia of musicals. anyway, this was so cute to me. i love dad-satoru so much. i hope i can write more of him. enjoy this a lot guys, i love you~ <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

spoilers about shinjuku showdown

GOJO SATORU THINKS HE WAS NEVER BUILT FOR DOMESTIC LIFE. When he was younger, he thought he would live a life of solitary proportions. Sure, the elders would have pushed him to marry one way or another and force him to start a family. But he knew his heart wouldn’t have been in it. He knew that nothing in him would be genuine. And he didn’t want that. If he was being honest, his greatest fear was the lonesomeness that comes with his birth. His power had promised him the world. He knew from the moment he could think that he would not be a man among humanity — no, he would be a god. But it was quite clear that being on top is lonely, being a god is lonely, and he hated it.

He never thought that both of you would end up being together. Let alone that he would willingly settle down with anyone. You never truly seemed to be someone that loved that idea — you were still reeling from heartbreak. And him? He was left behind by the person he thought was his shadow, shattered with nothing. It wasn’t ideal, but he thought that you understood. He thought that you both had enough broken pieces between the two of you to be whole again. That if misery was an enemy, then the two of you would win. He was willing to bet on that.

And so, he took the gamble. He opened up, letting you see the cracks and scars that he had hidden for so long. He exposed his vulnerabilities, hoping you would do the same. It was a tentative beginning, filled with uncertainty and hesitation, but gradually, you both found solace in each other’s presence.

The nights were the hardest, haunted by the ghosts of past loves and lost dreams. Yet, somehow, those shared moments of silence, the comfort of a warm hand, and the whispered confessions in the dark, made the loneliness bearable. You both learned to navigate the labyrinth of each other’s fears and insecurities, finding strength in the shared understanding that neither of you was alone anymore.

He was surprised by how naturally the pieces fell into place. Your laughter became a balm for his weary soul, and your touch grounded him in a way he never thought possible. Slowly, he started to see a future he had never dared to dream of – a future where he wasn’t isolated at the pinnacle of power, but rather, standing beside you, sharing the burdens and the joys.

He realized that the life he once dreaded, a life intertwined with another’s, was not a cage, but a liberation. The family he had feared would be forced upon him became a chosen haven of love and understanding. The heart he thought was too shattered to feel again began to beat with a new, hopeful rhythm.

In you, he found not just a partner, but a kindred spirit, someone who had been forged in the same fires of pain and loss. Together, you built something beautiful from the ruins, proving that even gods could find grace in the embrace of another’s love. And in that love, he discovered that being on top didn’t have to mean being alone. Instead, it meant having someone to share the view, someone to hold his hand as they looked down at the world together.

Gojo Satoru looked at you now, watching your sleeping form. It had only been a few days since he was released from the prison realm. Throughout that time, he couldn’t help but think about you. Thinking about how you were waiting for him. How your son was going to be waiting for his father to come home. Megumi, Tsumiki, his beloved students. They were all waiting for him. But when he saw you, he didn’t know what came over him. He rushed to you, and your arms opened wide. Just for him.

Time didn’t pass in the prison realm — but for you it did. He could see it. How tired you were. How all of this grief and pain, and suffering had cost you dearly. Your tears felt hot against his shoulders, your cries of relief bellowing through his entire body. He could feel it all; he could never forget it. Even now, he couldn’t. In all of your marriage, he had cost you dearly. You had sacrificed a lot of your life trying to help him achieve his dream for the Jujutsu world. You stood by him no matter what. You made a home for him anywhere and everywhere. You gave him everything.

As he watched you sleep, he marveled at your resilience. The lines on your face told stories of battles fought and won, of nights spent waiting and worrying, of unwavering love and dedication. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch light, as if afraid to wake you from your well-deserved rest.

In that quiet moment, he made a silent vow. He promised himself that he would make up for all the time lost, for all the pain and sacrifices you endured. He would be the husband and father you deserved, the man who stood beside you as an equal, not just a protector. The burden of his power and his duties had always weighed heavily on him, but he realized now that he didn’t have to carry it alone.

You stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips, and his heart swelled with an overwhelming love and gratitude. The world outside was filled with uncertainties and dangers, but here, in this moment, everything felt right. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, a promise of better days to come.

“I’m home,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with conviction. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he allowed himself to hope. Hope for a future where the weight of his responsibilities didn’t overshadow the simple joys of life. A future where he could see his son grow up, where he could laugh with his family, where he could find solace in your embrace every night. And with that hope, he drifted into a peaceful sleep beside you, ready to face whatever came next with you by his side.

He couldn’t believe it. How content you had made him — how happy you had made him. And now, he thought you had made him even happier. Even with all that had come to pass, he didn’t think it was a bad thing. He could feel it when he looked at you with his Six Eyes. You probably hadn’t been able to find yourself, being so busy holding everything together in his absence. Yet he could feel it. He could feel the life you had created bubbling in your belly. He could feel it echo with the essence of him and you.

A smile crept onto his face as he gently placed his hand on your stomach, feeling the faint flutter of new life beneath his fingertips. It was as if the universe had given him a second chance, a chance to be there for you and the new life you were bringing into the world. This tiny, growing miracle was a testament to your strength and resilience, a symbol of hope and renewal.

He marveled at the thought of another child, another chance to build a family filled with love and warmth. The future, which had once seemed so bleak and uncertain, now held promise and joy. He thought of your son, soon to be a big brother, and how they would grow up together, surrounded by the love and support of their parents and siblings.

Satoru's heart swelled with gratitude and love as he kissed your belly softly, whispering words of promise to the life growing within you. "I'm here, little baby." he murmured, his voice tender and filled with conviction. "I'll always be here for you, for all of us."

Satoru then held your belly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin. You stirred slightly, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips as you murmured groggily, "That tickles."

He chuckled softly, his laughter like a soothing balm. "Sorry," he whispered, not really meaning it but enjoying the sound of your sleepy voice.

You sighed contentedly, your eyes half-opening to meet him. "Do you know?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. "That you’re pregnant again? I can see the baby growing."

You laughed softly, the sound filling the quiet room. "You didn't see Satoshi last time, you know." you teased.

Satoru pouted playfully, his expression a mix of mock offense and genuine amusement. Even with just the moonlight, his childishness can be seen so clearly too. "Satoshi was already too strong as a baby," he defended himself. "He concealed his presence from his papa."

You giggled, reaching up to touch his cheek. "He is his father's son, after all."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes softening with love. "I guess he is," he admitted, a hint of pride in his voice. "But this time, I won't miss a thing. I'll be here, every step of the way."

You smiled, feeling a wave of warmth and gratitude wash over you. "I know you will, Satoru." you said softly, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you. “You’ve never failed at that before.”

Satoru's hand remained on your belly, his tone blossoming with so much love. "I can't wait to meet our new little one." he whispered, his voice filled with awe and anticipation. “I’ve always wanted to have a big family.”

“I know.” You whispered to him, taking his other hand and holding it close with your own. “You’ve talked about it before.”

“But it was just hard…..with everything.” He hums, laying his back against the bed frame. “Now it’s going to be even harder — everyone knows about Satoshi now. And now….”

You shake your head at him. “We will be fine. As we always have been. It will be okay, Satoru. You will save Megumi, the kids. You will do us proud. And we’ll finally get our happily ever after.”

Silence engulfed Satoru for a moment. He kept thinking about his own father. His father had died when he was too young, so he didn’t remember anything about him. But he heard stories. He was a rough man to all, but his mother remembered him differently. And so she had a different story to tell.

Gojo Satoru didn’t want to voice it out loud, but he was worried. He worried that, just like his father, he would be a story to his child. That he would be nothing but a forgotten memory. He wanted to be there. He wanted to be someone who loved his child. He wanted his child to know him as Satoshi did. But he didn’t know what would happen now. He still had to face Sukuna and Kenjaku. And it wasn't that he lacked confidence, but he worried still. He worried, and it hurt him. He felt his heart be heavy about this, more than ever.

As he stared at your loving face, the weight of his fears pressed down on him. The thought of leaving you and his children behind, of becoming just another story, filled him with a deep, aching sorrow. He wanted to be more than a legend or a distant memory; he wanted to be a father, a husband, a man who was present and involved in the lives of those he loved.

His hand tightened slightly on your belly, as if trying to anchor himself to the present moment, to the promise of the future growing inside you. He leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against your stomach, closing his eyes as he whispered a silent vow to himself and to his unborn child.

"I'll be here," he murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. "I won't let you become a story. I'll fight with everything I have to be here, to see you grow, to love you."

“Satoru, you’ll live a long and happy life with us, with me,” you said, looking at him tenderly. Worry echoed in your eyes, though. “You and I, we will grow old together. And die on the same day with our grandchildren and great-grandchildren around us.”

He looked into your eyes, seeing the determination and love there, and felt a warmth spread through his chest. Your unwavering belief in their future together eased some of his fears, but the worry in your eyes mirrored his own. He didn’t want you to worry, he doesn’t like it. Not especially in your condition. But he thinks that you can’t help it. You love him. And loving him will always have its worst. Love after all is a curse among men.

"I want that," he whispered, his hand caressing your cheek. "I want to grow old with you, to see our children grow up, to be surrounded by family. I want to be there for all of it."

He lifted his head, meeting your concerned gaze. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with unspoken fears. "I just... I want to be here. For you, for Satoshi, for our new baby. I don’t want to be just a memory."

You cupped his face, your eyes searching for him. "You won't be." you assured him, your voice filled with unwavering confidence. "We'll face whatever comes together. You're not alone in all of this, my love.”

Satoru nodded, swallowing hard as he tried to push past the lump in his throat. Your words, your presence, gave him strength. He knew the battles ahead would be daunting, but he also knew he had something worth fighting for, something worth living for. You, Satoshi, this babe, Megumi, his beloved students, his adored friends — you were worth living for. You were worth returning from hell from.

"I love you, darling." he whispered, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips. "And I promise, I'll do everything I can to stay with you. To be the father our children deserve."

Your fingers caressed his cheek, your smile a beacon of hope and reassurance. "And we love He smiled, his eyes shimmering with affection. “I know. I love you too.”

You grinned at him and leaned toward him, your lips pressing against his. "And I can't wait to see you as a papa again," you replied, your voice filled with equal parts excitement and tenderness. “You’ll be so beloved by this babe, Satoru. And I know you’ll love our child so much too.”

“I already love them,” he whispered, his smile the epitome of joy itself. “I can imagine it already. They’re moving so powerfully in your belly. I’m pretty sure they’re going to blow us all away.”

You laughed, the sound bright and full of hope. “Can you imagine, Yaga teaching this kid the way Gakuganji has taught me?”

Satoru chuckled, the thought filling him with a mix of amusement and anticipation. "Oh, that would be something to see. Another little powerhouse in the making. But you know, with our combined stubbornness and spirit, I think we’re going to have our hands full.”

"Definitely," you agreed, your eyes sparkling with joy. "But we'll manage. We always do."

He nodded, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. "Yeah, we will. Together."

"You will be," you replied firmly, your hand covering his. "We'll make it through this, Satoru. Together. We'll have the future we've always dreamed of."

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, drawing strength from your presence. "Thank you," he whispered. "For believing in me, in us. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," you promised, your voice soft but resolute. "Because we're in this together, always. For better or for worse.”

Before Satoru could respond, the door to your bedroom creaked open, the sound slicing through the quiet of the night. A small figure shuffled inside, barely visible in the dim light filtering through the curtains. It was young Gojo Satoshi, his small form barely reaching the edge of the bed. He looked distressed, your little boy. Satoru’s eyes softened at the sight of your darling boy.

Clutching his favorite stuffed animal tightly to his chest, he paused at the foot of the bed, uncertainty etched on his face. You and Satoru turned towards him simultaneously, your hearts melting at the sight of your son standing there, his eyes wide and teary. His pajamas were rumpled, his hair tousled from sleep, and it was evident that something had unsettled him deeply.

"Mama, Papa," Satoshi whispered, his voice barely audible above the soft hum of the room. He took a hesitant step closer, seeking comfort in the warmth of his parents' presence.

Satoru's heart clenched with concern as he reached out a comforting hand towards Satoshi. "Come here, Satoshi." he said gently, his voice a soothing murmur. "What's wrong, my little dawn?"

Satoshi hesitated for a moment, his lower lip trembling as he struggled to find the words to articulate his fear. "I... I had a nightmare," he finally managed to say, his voice wavering with emotion. "There was a big monster... and I couldn't find you and Papa."

You exchanged a knowing glance with Satoru, silently communicating your shared concern for your son's well-being. Without a second thought, Gojo Satoru lifted the covers, creating a welcoming space between the two of you. "It's okay, dearest dawn." he reassured, his voice soft but firm. "You're safe now. Come, lie down with us."

Satoshi blinked back tears, relief flooding his features as he scrambled onto the bed. He nestled himself between you and Satoru, his small body seeking solace in the warmth and familiarity of his parents. Satoru wrapped an arm protectively around him, pulling him close, while you gently smoothed his hair, offering some tender comfort that could never be echoed in words.

"What was the monster like, Satoshi?" you asked softly, your voice a gentle lullaby in the quiet of the room.

Satoshi took a deep breath, his eyes still wide with lingering fear. "It was... big and scary," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I... I wasn’t strong enough, mama. It was too much!”

Satoru's heart twisted with empathy as he listened to his son's words. He tightened his hold around Satoshi, his voice filled with reassurance. "Monsters aren't real, my dearest boy." he said firmly, brushing a gentle kiss on his forehead. "But even if they were, I would never let anything harm you. Papa will always protect you."

Satoshi looked up at Satoru, his eyes searching his father's face for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he nodded slowly, a flicker of relief passing over his features. "Really, Papa?"

"Really," Satoru affirmed, his voice steady and unwavering. "You're safe with us, always."

You leaned over, pressing a kiss to Satoshi's cheek. "We love you so much, sweetheart," you murmured, your voice filled with tenderness. "You're our brave little boy."

Satoshi's shoulders relaxed, the tension melting away as he nestled deeper into the embrace of his parents. "I love you too, Mama and Papa," he whispered, his eyes growing heavy with exhaustion.

"We love you more than anything." Satoru and you said in unison, their voices a gentle promise of unconditional love.

As your son Satoshi drifted off to sleep, his breathing slowing into the steady rhythm of peace, you and Satoru exchanged a soft smile. In that quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth and love of your family, you knew that together, you could weather any storm. And as the night wrapped it's comforting arms around you, you held onto each other, cherishing the precious bond that bound your hearts together.

Gojo Satoru was happiest here, he knew.

Whatever gods there are, he thanks them now.

For you and his children, will be his dearest treasures.

epilogue

In the days that followed Gojo Satoshi’s night of nightmares, life settled into a gentle rhythm once more. The worry that had momentarily clouded Satoru’s heart lifted as he watched his son regain his usual spark, chasing after Tsumiki's cat or eagerly helping with simple tasks around the house.

One evening, with the leaves dancing in the breeze outside, you and Satoru decided it was time to share some exciting news with Satoshi. The three of you gathered in the cozy living room, nestled together on the couch as the fire crackled softly in the hearth.

“Satoshi,” you began, your voice warm with anticipation. “Your papa and I have something special to tell you.”

Satoshi looked up from his coloring book, his curiosity piqued. “What is it, Mama?”

Satoru took a deep breath, a smile spreading across his face as he exchanged a meaningful glance with you. “You’re going to be an elder brother, my dearest dawn!” he announced, his voice tinged with joy.

Satoshi blinked, processing the words for a moment before his face lit up in realization. “Wait... really?” he exclaimed, his eyes widening with excitement.

You nodded, your heart swelling with happiness as you watched your son’s reaction. “Yes, really, little one.” you confirmed, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately. “You’re going to have a little brother or sister.”

Satoru thinks that your son will always be the morning sun.His name is just perfect. He was truly the dawn that made your lives ever so beautiful. It’s the way his smile will make him undone, it will always make him feel like the world is bigger than it actually was. When Satoshi was born, all he could think about was that he filled what was empty in Gojo Satoru’s life. And that will never change. Not even if there is a new little one coming along.

Satoru worried about telling Satoshi, because in these past four, five years — he was the only son. He had gotten doted upon as a little lordling, the only dawn in his parent’s lives. But Satoru feels glad that your son was happy. That Satoshi already loves his little sibling as much as Satoru loves this little baby in your belly already.

Satoshi’s eyes darted between you and Satoru, a thousand questions bubbling up within him. “When will the baby come?” he asked eagerly. “Will the baby be able to play with me?”

“In a few months, little dawn.” Satoru replied, his voice filled with tenderness. “But you’ll have to wait until the baby’s a bit older and stronger to play with them, hm?”

“It’s okay!” Satoshi beams tenderly. “I can wait. I’ll take care of the baby and make sure that they’ll grow up strong!”

“You’ll be the best big brother, Satoshi. We know it.” You smiled at your son, kissing the edge of his brow. “You’re already so kind to them.”

Satoshi beamed with pride, a sense of responsibility settling over him as he realized the importance of his new role. You think that you were truly blessed — to have such an endearing little boy who wants to do nothing but good. Who wants to love as much as he can. Who wants to be as kind as he could. You could see all the good, the wonder, the beauty of your husband in your little boy. And you hope that he will grow up to be just like his father.

“I can’t wait!” he declared, his excitement contagious. “I can’t wait to be a big brother!”

You and Satoru exchanged a glance, delighted by Satoshi's enthusiasm. The room seemed to glow with warmth and anticipation, the air buzzing with the promise of new beginnings. As Satoshi's excitement bubbled over, he jumped up from the couch and threw his arms around both of you in a tight hug, his little face radiant with joy.

“I’ll be the best big brother out there, mama, papa! I swear!”

"You will, my little dawn," you said, squeezing him gently. "And you're going to be amazing at it."

Satoru chuckled warmly, ruffling Satoshi's hair affectionately. "What mama said is correct! You're going to be the best big brother this baby could ask for."

Satoshi grinned from ear to ear, his imagination already racing with thoughts of teaching his new sibling all the things he loved. "I'll teach them how to play jujutsu and how to be brave like Papa! I’m going to be as good as Megumi–oniichan!”

The mention of Megumi was a bit gut-wrenching. Satoru’s eyes dimmed a little, a flicker of sadness passing through them, but he continued to smile, his expression gentle yet tinged with longing. You noticed the shift in his demeanor and pursed your lips, feeling a pang of empathy for the ache he carried.

You could only hope that you and Satoru would be good enough. Good enough to create a home where Megumi would feel welcomed back, where he could find solace and warmth after all he had been through. You hoped that soon enough, Megumi would be by your side again, sharing in the joys and challenges of raising this new baby alongside you both.

Satoru glanced at you, sensing your thoughts, and reached out to gently squeeze your hand, offering silent reassurance and solidarity. He shared your hopes, your dreams of a future where their family would be whole once more. You take his hand and kiss the edge of his hand.

"I want Megumi to be a part of this too," Satoru murmured softly, his voice filled with determination. "I want him to see how much love we have to give, to watch this baby grow as he watched Satoshi grow."

You nodded, feeling a surge of determination and love for the family you were building together. "We'll make it happen," you replied firmly, your voice tinged with quiet resolve. "We'll create a home where Megumi knows he's always welcomed, always loved."

That night was filled with the tender innocence of childhood dreams and the quiet anticipation of parenthood. After tucking Satoshi into bed, his eyes bright with excitement for the sibling yet to come, you and Satoru stood together in the doorway of his room, soaking in the purity of his joy-filled imagination.

Satoshi had whispered animatedly about the adventures he envisioned sharing with the new baby—games in the backyard, secret hideouts in the attic, and bedtime stories where he would be the storyteller, just like Papa. His enthusiasm was infectious, filling the air with a palpable sense of hope and new beginnings.

You and Satoru listened with hearts full of love, cherishing these fleeting moments that held the promise of a growing family. As Satoshi's voice eventually faded into soft snores, you closed his door gently, the sound resonating with the quiet serenity of the night.

Satoru turned to you, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the hallway light. With a tender smile, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest. The warmth of his embrace was reassuring, a silent affirmation of the love and unity you shared.

"I can't wait to see where happiness begins." he murmured, his voice a gentle murmur against your hair. His words held a mix of excitement and wonder, as if he was already imagining the new dynamics their family would soon embrace.

"Me too." you whispered back, leaning into his embrace. The softness of his touch, the steady beat of his heart against yours, filled you with a profound sense of gratitude and anticipation for the future.

In that moment, standing in the quiet hallway bathed in moonlight, you knew that together, you and Satoru look at each other. There was no need for anymore words. You just needed each other. You just needed this moment.

You smiled at him, and he smiles back. Just a little bit more, everything will be over. You will finally live in peace. You’ll be happy. You’ll grow old together. You believe it so. And you wish that it would be enough.

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fantasyescapes17 · 1 year ago

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Closed Doors (Part 1)

Soonyoung had made peace with his station in life. A younger son of a little-known family, he was not set to inherit a fortune and had nothing to recommend him but his bright personality. Nobody expected Soonyoung to make the match of the season. But when you- a woman with ties to the royal family and riches beyond his imagination, a Duchess in your own right- seeks Soonyoung's hand in marriage, his life begins to spiral entirely out of his control.

Genre: Hoshi x female!reader. Regency!AU. Your title is the Duchess of Graham but your first name is not mentioned.

Warnings: Not even remotely historically accurate. Much like Bridgerton, this is all about the aesthetic.

Word Count: 4k+

Part 2 Part 3

Series Masterlist [This is not the first installment in this series- it is strongly recommended to visit the Masterlist and read the installments in order as they are all interlinked and the timeline can be confusing.]

“So, the Navy, eh?”

Soonyoung winced as his elder brother clapped him hard on the back. The evening had barely begun but the elder Kwon had already imbibed too much whisky; a rather embarrassing state to be in, considering that they were at one of the most elite balls of the London season. The hostess-the Duchess of Graham- was arguably the richest and most influential lady of the ton and not someone to be trifled with.

"The Navy, yes," Soonyoung replied weakly. "I enlist in two weeks."

"I didn't take you for a navy man. But excellent. Excellent, Soonyoung. You will make our family proud!"

The elder Kwon stumbled away, drunk and almost knocking over a pair of young ladies that shot him dirty looks. Soonyoung winced again- this time from embarrassment, and not pain. It was a cruel twist of fate that this bumbling buffoon had inherited the entire Kwon family fortune while Soonyoung was left penniless, merely because he had been born a year later.

Younger sons were truly at the mercy of their brothers.

"Soonyoung!"

Soonyoung turned, relieved to see a close friend and another man who shared in his plight as a younger son. Mr. Lee Seokmin was nearby with a glass of water in his hand.

"Mr. Lee!" Soonyoung greeted his friend warmly. "I see you are starting off the evening early. Do not tell me you have already secured a young lady's hand for the first dance?"

Seokmin grinned brightly. "I have secured a dance indeed; with Miss Yoon, the season's jewel."

Soonyoung was impressed. "Well! Don't let me stop you! You should hurry- young ladies do not like to be kept waiting, and being brother-in-law to the Viscount will only get you so far if your manners do not match his."

"Of course. I heard of your plans to enlist in the Navy," Seokmin added, his tone a little more serious. He lowered his voice. "We will speak about it after the first dance."

Soonyoung forced a smile and agreed.

Joining the Navy was not something that Kwon Soonyoung had ever truly wanted to do with his life. But ever since he had been old enough to understand that there was no grand estate or family fortune waiting for him when he became of age, he knew that he could not depend on his brother for hand-outs.

He had very few respectable options open to him- Soonyoung could have taken up a profession, but a few short years at Oxford made it clear that the study of law or medicine ill suited him. His talents did not lie in poring over books for hours on end. He had quickly transferred to the Royal Naval Academy and begun his training to brave the high seas in service to the country.

Joining the Navy was less a conscious choice, and more a natural consequence of Soonyoung's talents and position in life. He had long since learned to make peace with it. Perhaps he would capture an infamous pirate and be knighted by the Queen.

One could dream.

Soonyoung weaved through the groups of fashionable nobility as he admired the magnificence of the Graham's London manor. It was exquisite. Every wall was covered in antique artwork and every marble column seemed to have been crafted painstakingly. This was perhaps the most magnificent building in all of London, second only to the royal palace itself. Soonyoung felt as though he was unworthy to even tread the white marble floors.

He was also suddenly struck with the fear that his drunken brother would break something priceless.

Soonyoung managed to reach the lavish spread of refreshments, and was selecting from the endless rows of colourful little cakes when a hand landed on his arm- much gentler than his brother's had been. He turned around and came face to face with Viscount Hong.

Handsome, gentlemanly and very rich, Soonyoung was often surprised that Viscount Hong even bothered to fraternise with him. Had they not shared some mutual friends back during their brief overlapping time at Oxford, it would surely have been absurd for the Viscount to even know Soonyoung's name.

But as circumstances had it, the Viscount was well known to Soonyoung. If he was being daring, he might have even called him a friend.

"Soonyoung! A word?" the Viscount asked.

Soonyoung nodded eagerly. "Of course! I have not seen you in a while, Viscount; congratulations on your wedding, I never got a chance to properly-"

"Yes, thank you," the Viscount replied kindly but in a tone that made it clear he was not looking to exchange pleasantries. "Soonyoung, I hope that in the time we have known each other we have developed a sort of mutual trust?"

Soonyoung blinked. "Yes?"

"I am going to ask you to do something that may seem rather odd, but I need you to trust me and know that I will explain in due course. Can you do that?" the Viscount asked.

Soonyoung did not hesitate.

"Of course. Anything."

"Excellent. I need you to ask the Duchess to dance with you for the first dance."

The request was so outrageous that it took a few moments for the full meaning of the words to sink in for Soonyoung. He stared blankly up at the Viscount for a few seconds before sputtering out his protests.

"The Duchess?" he repeated. "I-I do not even… I have never met her!"

"That is perfectly fine- I will make the necessary introductions," the Viscount replied smoothly as he began to walk away. Soonyoung was forced to abandon his carefully chosen pink and yellow cakes and follow the Viscount.

"Viscount Hong…"

"Hurry- the dancing will begin in only a few moments!"

Soonyoung had no choice but to follow the Viscount as he led him to the front of the room. Soonyoung knew of you, of course, there was nobody in the ton who had not heard of the elusive Duchess of Graham. But he had never even seen you in person and the idea of daring to ask a Duchess to dance…

"She will say no," Soonyoung realised quickly.

The Viscount shook his head. "She will not."

"How do you know-"

"Soonyoung. Take a deep breath. I would never knowingly put you in an embarrassing position," the Viscount promised.

Soonyoung relaxed a little.

"All right, I trust you…"

The two gentlemen arrived at the head of the ballroom and Soonyoung's eyes finally landed on the Duchess that he had heard so much about. His breath caught in his throat.

You were beautiful- in an almost regal, ethereal sort of way. Your exquisite lavender-coloured ball-gown shimmered in the bright lights and little diamond studs twinkled in your ears. But your beauty came from more than the clothes and jewellery you wore. Your beauty was in the way you carried yourself- in your graceful posture, in the way your soft lips curved in a practised smile and your gloves hands rested delicately in front of you while you nodded at the gentleman speaking to you.

"Soonyoung?" the Viscount asked, when he stopped walking. "Why have you stopped?"

"I-I can't…"

"Come, quickly."

Soonyoung felt as though he was in a dream. The Viscount seized his arm and pulled him along until the two gentlemen were standing immediately in front of you.

When you turned your gaze upon him, Soonyoung almost felt as though he should kneel before you, in deference to your superior presence.

"Viscount Hong!" you greeted him with a bright but restrained enthusiasm. Even your voice was melodic and gentle to Soonyoung's ears, like a songbird in spring. "I am very glad to see that you could make it this evening. Is the Viscountess not with you?"

Viscount Hong smiled back. "The Viscountess is just speaking to her brothers, Your Grace. She will greet you momentarily. In the meantime, I wanted to make an introduction."

"Oh?"

Your eyes landed on Soonyoung calmly, and he felt as though every part of his body had turned to ice. Your gaze was not condescending or even unkind, but there was something in your eyes that instantly shattered Soonyoung's vision of you as perfection incarnate.

Your lips smiled, but your eyes were sad.

"Your Grace, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Kwon Soonyoung. He is the second son of the Kwon family and a close personal friend of mine," the Viscount said.

Soonyoung would ordinarily have swelled with pride at being called the Viscount's close personal friend but he did not have the time for such luxuries. Remembering his manners, he clumsily reached for the gloved hand you offered him and brought it to his lips. The soft satin smelled faintly of lilacs.

"Your Grace," Soonyoung said nervously. "It-it is an honour…"

You smiled at him gently. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Kwon."

Soonyoung looked up for a brief moment and caught the Viscount's eye; the older man was giving him a meaningful look with his big eyes. 'Ask her to dance' was clearly what the Viscount was trying to silently communicate.

Abandoning all instincts of self-preservation and placing his faith entirely on the word of Viscount Hong, Soonyoung looked at you with a forced smile.

"Your Grace- may I ask you to accompany me for the first dance?"

—-----------------------------------------------------

Perhaps it was for the best that Soonyoung had little-to-no warning that he was about to open the first and most-awaited event of the season by dancing with the Duchess of Graham, as it left him very little time to consider the serious societal implications of the situation he was in.

Soonyoung was no stranger to dancing. He loved it and would never refuse an opportunity to dance provided he could find a partner. It was, therefore, a relief when the opening waltz was one that was very familiar to him. His feet moved smoothly and naturally to the tune of the music and it allowed his mind the freedom to think of what to say to you.

"I hope you are having a pleasant evening," you said to him politely. Soonyoung was trying in vain to ignore the soft scent of lilacs coming from you (were there fresh flowers entwined in your hair? He was too flustered to look closely) and it took him a few moments to realise that he should compliment you, the hostess, on your ball.

"Yes!" Soonyoung said quickly. "Yes, the evening is wonderful, this far exceeds the usual events of the London season."

"In what way?" you wondered aloud.

"In what-sorry, in what way?" he repeated.

"In what way does it exceed the usual events?" you repeated patiently.

Soonyoung was stumped. There were real lilacs entwined in the strands of your hair and it was growing far more difficult to keep his thoughts in line. What should he say? The size of the ballroom? The orchestra? The lighting?

"You have a much wider selection of cakes," he said finally. The words had barely come out of his mouth before he instantly realised how stupid they sounded- but to his surprise, you were biting back a small smile. For a moment, he saw that strange lingering sadness disappear from your eyes.

"The cakes?" you repeated, amused.

It was too late. He could not extricate himself from this conversation now. Soonyoung had no choice but to double down on his admiration of the cakes.

"Yes," he continued. "It is quite standard for London balls to offer one or two choices of cake, but I had a chance to pass by the refreshment tables earlier and there were eight different cake selections available."

"I see," you replied. "I suppose that you like cake a great deal, Mr. Kwon?"

Soonyoung blinked. "Don't you?"

"I do like cake, but I will confess that it never occurred to me to use it as a measurement to assess the quality of a ball. I hope you will be kind enough to let me know which of the cakes you liked best? I am sure my kitchen staff would be pleased to learn that their spread had an impact on my guests."

You were not making fun of him. The Duchess of Graham was quite seriously discussing cakes with him at the season's opening ball.

Soonyoung felt light-headed.

"I thought the strawberry ones were quite refreshing," he choked out finally. "Strawberries are in season, of course, and the freshness of the flavouring ingredient makes a world of difference."

"Interesting," you said thoughtfully. "Yes; I suppose it is natural for one's cake preference to vary based on the freshness of the seasonal fruit. We grow strawberries back on the country estate this time of year and have them brought over to London so they are quite fresh. I think the weather is right for lemons as well. I am partial to a lemon cake."

"The lemon cakes are delightful," Soonyoung agreed eagerly. "I had a chance to try one earlier. But if I may offer a suggestion- I think a lemon cream might be a lighter and more refreshing option."

"Considering the warm weather?" you asked, interested. "I agree completely. Lemon cakes can be quite dense in the heat. We should have some lighter options as well. I will pass on your recommendation to my cook."

"I hope you will make it clear that the recommendation was not intended as a slight against the cake, which was quite excellent," Soonyoung said hastily.

You smiled. "Of course. I will convey the message."

"Thank you."

The waltz slowly drew to an end and Soonyoung was forced to release you, stepping away from you until he could no longer smell the lilacs in your hair.

"Thank you for the dance, Mr. Kwon," you told him in your gentle, song-like voice. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."

"T-thank you, Your Grace."

You left and Soonyoung quickly stepped away from the dance floor towards the edge of the room. He was so intoxicated by the memory of your voice and smile and scent that he almost bumped head-first into Seokmin, who was waiting for him with a large smile.

"Did you just dance with the Duchess?" Seokmin demanded, in awe. "How did that come to happen?"

Soonyoung could only shrug. "I… I don't know."

"Unbelievable. What did you talk about? Her title? Did you offer your condolences for her father's death? Is it true that she is planning to marry soon and that the dukedom will pass through the female line?"

Soonyoung blinked. "What?"

"You didn't ask her about any of those things? What did you talk about?"

"Just…" Soonyoung cleared his throat, embarrassed to admit the actual subject of conversation. "We only made light conversation. About the weather and the like. Anyway, was there something you wished to discuss? About the Navy?"

Seokmin's smile fell. "Oh- yes, the Navy. When are you enlisting?"

"In two weeks."

"I am considering joining you," Seokmin admitted. His expression was somewhat glum. "I know things have been looking up for my family since my sister married the Viscount, but I can hardly live off my brother-in-law for the rest of my life."

Soonyoung blinked. "The Viscount would support you in a heartbeat. So would Jihoon."

"Yes- which only makes it all the more embarrassing to depend on their generosity," Seokmin replied with a sigh. He looked up at his friend and offered him his hand. "Shall we go explore the high seas together, Soonyoung?"

Soonyoung shook his hand with a smile.

"Let's capture some pirates."

"Aye, aye!"

—------------------------------------------------

Soonyoung had not forgotten to seek an explanation from the Viscount for his strange behaviour at the Duchess' ball, but the opportunity did not come immediately.

Viscount Hong's younger sister- Miss Hong- had been caught in a scandal the very evening of the ball and the Viscount was away making arrangements for her hushed wedding to Mr. Jeon Wonwoo. Soonyoung could hardly knock on the Viscount's door in those circumstances and demand to know why he had asked him to dance with the Duchess of Graham.

"You must tell us what the Duchess is like," Mr. Kim Mingyu pressed Soonyoung over a game of cards at the gentlemen's club. The handsome rake had a cigar sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he scanned his cards. "I've heard so many things about her."

"What have you heard?" Soonyoung asked curiously.

"The usual story of how she acquired her title, of course. The late Duke had no surviving male heirs. The dukedom would have died with him, but the Grahams have always been very intimate with the royal family. On his deathbed he sought a special decree from the Queen herself- to allow his title to pass through his only daughter."

Soonyoung nodded. He knew this story. The entire ton knew this story- it had been one of the most discussed topics of the past year.

"The first woman to be a Duchess by birth and not by marriage," Seokmin remarked as he set down a card. "Does that mean that whoever she marries becomes the Duke of Graham?"

Mingyu nodded. "Naturally so."

"Who would she marry? Surely a Prince? Or another Duke?" Soonyoung wondered. He still remembered that brief dance with you at the ball- you were the picture of beauty and perfection. He could not imagine you settling for anyone less.

"All the other Dukes are curmudgeonly old men," Mingyu said dismissively. "The Duchess is young and beautiful enough not to have to settle for any of them. Considering her ties to the royal family and that she is a close personal favourite of the Queen- yes, I'd say a Prince is far more likely."

Seokmin sighed. "That would be some celebration," he said wistfully before turning to Soonyoung. "Pity we won't be around to see it, eh, Soonyoung? We will have departed for the Navy by then."

Soonyoung hummed. The day of his planned enlistment drew nearer and the dread in his heart grew greater and greater as the reality of his future sunk in. He was not certain how Seokmin could remain optimistic and casual about their upcoming enlistment.

Mingyu winced as he put out his cigar. "Are you two really doing that? The Navy? Isn't there some other way to come into a fortune- preferably one that does not involve placing yourself in mortal peril?"

Soonyoung scoffed as he played his turn at cards. "Easy for you to say, Mr. Kim, sole heir to a Kim family fortune so large that you've gambled away thousands of pounds and somehow still kept your estate intact. Remind me how much you owe Mr. Yoon again?"

Seokmin chuckled. "There is an idea. Perhaps we can play Mr. Kim for his estate."

Mingyu chuckled and leaned back in his seat. "If it prevents you both from going to the Navy, I'm game."

"The Navy is the only option that really gives men of uncertain fortune like us a chance to earn enough to compete with family money," Soonyoung explained with a sigh. He had done his research- there was no other way. "If one can climb the ranks to obtain a command and sink some enemy ships, the spoils of war are often lucrative enough to justify the effort."

Mingyu was not impressed. "If you survive long enough."

"What would you suggest instead, wise one?"

Mingyu's eyes twinkled. "Haven't you two considered simply marrying into fortune? You're both handsome young gentlemen. I am sure you could find a damsel with a large enough dowry to support you."

"So you would have us become dowry hunters," Soonyoung replied.

"If you want to put it so crudely…"

"Your rakish behaviour is only passable among the ton because of your fortune, Mr. Kim. I am fairly certain that if Seokmin or I attempted to seduce young ladies of fortune as brazenly as you do, we would have been shot by their fathers or brothers," Soonyoung replied drily.

Seokmin chuckled. "I'd rather die at sea."

"I will drink to that."

Soonyoung allowed his friend to refill his glass with whisky and sipped it. It occurred to him how much he would miss these casual evenings in London- playing cards and having a drink with his friends as they bickered and joked without a care in the world.

But life could not be so easy. He had to prove himself in the world.

The entrance to the gentlemen's club opened and a lone figure walked in. It was Viscount Hong, looking more tired than Soonyoung had ever seen him. He nodded politely at the gathered gentlemen in greeting.

"Viscount Hong!" Seokmin greeted him cheerfully. "Join us for a game?"

The Viscount sighed. "I'm afraid I'm not up for any gambling tonight but I will have a drink," he said. One of the waiters came rushing over to pour him a fresh glass of whisky as the Viscount took one of the empty seats at their card table. "It has been a difficult week."

Mingyu nodded. "Have Mr. and Mrs. Jeon left for the countryside?"

The Viscount lifted his glass and emptied it into his mouth before responding. "Yes- I would say that it turned out alright in the end, but I am not sure anyone benefitted from this mess, really. Except perhaps Baron Wright."

Seokmin gestured for the waiter to refill the Viscount's glass. "Say the word and we can deal with the Baron- we'll call it a hunting accident."

The Viscount seemed mildly amused. "Thank you, Seokmin, but there's really no need to murder anyone on my behalf. I doubt the Viscountess would forgive me if you ended up in the gallows on my family’s account."

Seokmin shrugged. "I'm bound for the Navy in a few weeks."

The Viscount laughed. "You must be mad if you think your sister would ever allow that."

"It is not her decision."

The Viscount shook his head lightly. "Far be it from me to interfere with my wife and her siblings. But I am fairly certain that you will not be heading to the Navy as you imagine, Seokmin. Nor, for that matter, will Soonyoung."

Soonyoung, halfway through his third whisky and beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol, looked up and blinked. "Sorry?"

The Viscount turned to face him with an apologetic smile. "I was going to explain why I pressed you to dance with the Duchess that evening, but I am afraid more urgent events distracted my attention. But first- am I correct in assuming that your enlistment in the Navy is only due to your need for a fortune and not due to an actual passion for the high seas?"

Soonyoung cleared his throat. The Viscount was very correct but it was an awkward thing to admit. "I mean, I was planning on capturing some pirates and building my own fortune."

Mingyu chuckled halfway through his attempt to light his second cigar. "Yes, Kwon Soonyoung, with his talent for the Viennese waltz and preference for lemon cream is the ideal man to defend our seas and capture pirates."

Viscount Hong ignored him. "And if there was an easier way for you to come into fortune?"

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"By marriage."

"Don't bother, Viscount," Mingyu said lightly. "I have suggested it already, but these two gentlemen are determined not to present themselves as dowry hunters."

"What if the young lady of fortune approached you first?"

"And where do you plan to find a young lady of fortune mad enough to do that?" Mingyu joked.

Viscount Hong gave Mingyu a sharp look which silenced him and then set down his glass of whisky on the table. He turned in his chair to fully face Soonyoung. The look in his eyes was serious and for a moment, Soonyoung felt something akin to anxiety stir in his stomach.

"What is it, Viscount Hong?" Soonyoung asked nervously.

"The… Duchess of Graham has expressed an interest in marrying you, Soonyoung."

—------------------------------------------------

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #hoshi scenarios #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung scenarios #regency!au #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen imagines #hoshi fluff #soonyoung fluff

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vodika-vibes · 26 days ago

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Chasing The Moon

Summary: There is a legend in the small town you call home. A legend of a mighty wolf, larger than a building, who would protect the village from all harm, so long as he receives a sacrifice on the Autumn Equinox every year. In truth, you thought that this was nonsense, but shortly after your 21st Name Day, you’re chosen by the Village elders to be this year's sacrifice. And you realize that there is some truth to all of the legends.

Pairing: Ordo Skirata x F!Reader

Word Count: 4631

Warnings: Mentions of people being sacrificed, but no one dies in the story, reader is described as having hair long enough to wear in two buns at the base of her head and having a temper.

A/N: So, maybe I should write more when I have a fever since I pounded this out in a couple of hours. But also, if no one else is going to write for Ordo, then I guess I will. (I have a fever of 101, I'm gonna watch cartoons after I post this).

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“You missed a spot.”

For a moment, just a moment, you consider flinging your broom at the face of the woman standing at the top of the stairs. You don’t follow through with your threat because the Temple Matriarch steps out of the bathhouse to the right and pins you both with a severe glare.

“Sisters,” The old woman says as she leans her weight on her cane, “You are not fighting, are you?”

“I am just trying to give our newest sister some guidance, Elder Sister,” the woman��you think her name is Talia—says demurely. “It appears that she’s never used a broom before.” She adds snidely.

You’ve always had something of a temper, you’re pretty sure that is why you were chosen as this year’s sacrifice, and Talia’s words make your temper flare, your hands tightening around the broom as you consider if the punishment for assaulting an Elder Sister was worth the satisfaction of making her eat her words.

“You are being unduly cruel to our youngest,” The Matriarch warns Talia.

“It is not my fault that she is, thus far, useless.” Talia’s words are like a drill into your brain, each word pushing your explosive temper just a little bit closer to the breaking point. “Honestly,” She continues, “I wouldn’t be surprised if her parents asked the Elder to make her the sacrifice. Imagine having such a useless child—”

And that’s the breaking point as the memory of your mother’s tear-stained face when your name was announced as this year's sacrifice wavers in front of your eyes.

Before you can consider the consequences of your actions, you draw your arm back and fling the broom at Talia. The bristles hit her in the face, and Talia tumbles backward with an undignified squawk.

She sounds like a bird you think as a laugh tumbles from your lips.

And then the Eldest Sister shouts your name and grabs your arm in a surprisingly firm grip, “We must never assault our sisters!” She scolds, a heavy frown on her wrinkled face, “What were you thinking?”

“What? She’s allowed to verbally abuse me, but I’m not allowed to retaliate? How’s that fair?”

“She didn’t physically harm you—”

“Oh, come on!” You jerk your arm out of her grip, “That,” You point at the broom, which is lying on the stairs forgotten, “is the consequence of her actions.”

Eldest Sister sighs, “You have something of a temper, don’t you young one?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that!” You counter defensively.

She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, “Sister, we are exiled to this temple for the rest of our lives. We have to learn how to coexist—”

You open your mouth to say something, hotly, but you’re interrupted when she holds her hand up.

“Talia is going to be punished for her cruel words,” She says, “However, physical retaliation is unacceptable, so you are also going to be punished.”

You fold your arms over your chest with a huff, “Fine. But I’m not going to apologize.”

“No, I rather think that we will be keeping you and Talia separated for the time being.” Eldest Sister replies dryly, “I have no desire to deal with the fight that will happen if I put the two of you together.” She lightly taps her cane on the ground, and then nods, “Ah. I know. You are going to report to Sister Rosa and help her with her chores for the next, oh…I think a month is a good amount of time.”

“A month!?”

“Would you like it to be longer?”

“Uhm…no ma’am. A month sounds fair.” You say sheepishly, “...who’s Sister Rosa?”

Eldest Sister blinks, and then she smiles, “Ah, you wouldn’t have met her yet. Sister Rosa is the Temple Herbologist. You can find her in the Greenhouses.” She shoots you a stern look, “Sister Rosa is not half as charitable as I am, behave for her.”

“I will if she does—” You yelp as Eldest Sister’s cane smacks your shin.

“Behave!”

“Yes, Elder Sister.”

The old woman nods, and then she turns to head up the stairs, while you turn to hurry to the greenhouses on the other side of the compound.

The Sacrificial Temple, the home to all of the women who have been sacrificed to the Great Wolf, is wholly self-sufficient. There’s a massive farm where chickens, cows, and sheep are tended by several of the sisters for their eggs, milk, and wool respectively.

There’s a lake at the back of the temple, which is where the majority of the meat for the temple comes from.

The rest of the food is supplied by the series of eight large greenhouses. Three of them are for seasonal crops, three are for fruit trees, one is for cooking herbs, and the last is for medicinal herbs.

As the Temple Herbologist, Sister Rosa's domain is the medicinal herb greenhouse. You’ve never had any reason to enter this specific greenhouse, in fact, this greenhouse is largely off-limits to anyone who isn’t medical staff.

You push the door open and wait the fifteen seconds it takes for the decontamination spray to finish its work, and then you step into the greenhouse proper.

Much to your surprise, the greenhouse is almost bare.

There are a few planters that are growing dazzling purple plants, but most are empty. And, near the back of the room, an older woman with salt and pepper hair is moving from one planter box to the next.

She’s a surprisingly large woman. Easily the same height as your father, if not a little taller, and very solid looking. She looks strong, you’d bet that she never had any problem moving heavy objects.

You approach Sister Rosa, and she must have supernatural senses because she whirls on you so quickly that you release a startled squeak. “You! Who are you?” She demands, jabbing a dirt-covered finger at your chest.

You hold your hands up, to try and fend off the accusing finger, and hastily introduce yourself.

“Oh. You're the new girl.” Sister Rosa says, “What?”

“Eldest Sister sent me here for punishment.” You admit.

“...what did you do?”

“I…may have thrown a broom at someone.”

“HA!” You jump at the sudden laugh, and then you jump again when a sheet of paper is shoved into your hands, “Go outside the walls and collect as much of this stuff as you can fit into these.” These are decently sized canvas bags, “Be back before moonrise. Now get out.”

“W-wait! I don’t know what these plants ar—” Sister Rosa shoves you out of the greenhouse before you’re able to finish your complaint and slams the door in your face. “...I’m sure this isn’t going to end terribly.” You say to the closed door, before lifting the list and squinting at it and then shrugging, “Whatever, I’ll do the best I can.”

You head away from the greenhouse and back to your room, where you grab the satchel you were given when you first arrived, and change out of the flowing robes and into trousers and a tunic, and then you head to the security office to sign out of the temple.

You’re given a small knife, a watch, and a map by the sisters who work at the Security office, as well as a warning to return before nightfall, and then you step outside of the temple walls.

Several hours later, you find yourself at a lake. A different lake. And while you’re confused as to how many lakes a forest really needs, you’re grateful because it gives you a chance to rest your tired feet.

You sit on the stump of a felled tree (it looks like it was felled by man, but that’s silly, no one comes out this far unless they’re a sacrifice and this lake is too far away from the temple for the builders to collect wood from here—) and focus your attention on the small plants growing near the water.

Lavender is…a flower, right? You’re pretty sure it’s a flower at least. And so is Chamomile. You’ve never seen Aloe before, so maybe one of these plants is aloe.

You slide off the stump and crouch near some plants.

Mother kept aloe vera at the bakery to help with burns, so maybe if one of these plants is mashed up it turns into the gel? That makes sense, right?

You rest your chin on the palm of your hands. This plant is shiny, has three leaves, and the leaves are red. You’re pretty sure aloe is green…but maybe it changes color in the autumn?

You reach out to cut the plant near the roots. You’re not sure what it is, but someone at the temple will probably be able to identify it, and then you pause when you hear a branch snap behind you.

You turn your head and find yourself staring up at a massive man. Tall and broad, with dark hair that looks like it has a curl to it. He’s wearing leather armor and has a crossbow draped across his back. A hunter, maybe?

To his credit, he looks as surprised to see you as you are to see him.

“What are you doing?” His voice is pleasantly deep and has an unfamiliar accent, unfamiliar but still pleasant to your ears.

“I’m collecting herbs.”

“...that’s poison ivy.”

You blink at him, and then at the plants, and then back at him, “No. Poison Ivy is green.”

He sighs and presses his hand against his head, “In the Autumn, Poison Ivy turns red.”

Is that right? That can’t be right. Although, most plants to start turning red this time of year…

“How did you even get out here?” He asks.

“I walked.” You reply simply as you turn your attention back to the plants. Maybe, if you wear gloves, you can collect the poison ivy anyway and use it against people who make you mad—

Wait. Does that make you a bad person?

“Obviously you walked,” You glance at the man, who’s now standing a little closer to you, “From where? No one lives around here.”

You huff and stand, giving up on the idea of collecting the poison ivy, you didn’t bring gloves, “And how would you know?”

“Because I live here.”

“Well, you’re obviously a hunter of some kind, but I don’t think there are any villages or settlements in the area.”

Your comment causes him to make a strange face, and you’re about to question it, but he starts talking, “I am a hunter, in a manner of speaking. My family lives a couple of miles that way.” He jabs his thumb behind him, “Names Ordo. And you are?”

You scowl at him but you offer him your name. And just your name.

Ordo sighs, “And where are you from?”

“I…live at a temple about an hour from here.”

He pauses and shoots you a suspicious look, his gaze dropping to your practical boots, the grass-stained knees of your trousers, the loose green tunic, the small knife in your hand, and the twin buns at the base of your scalp. “You’re a holy woman?” He sounds doubtful. Valid. You would be too in his place.

“I never made that claim.”

“You said you’re from a temple.”

“And I am, but that doesn’t make me a holy woman.”

“Then what are you?”

You fold your arms. Technically you’re a prisoner, just like all of the other sisters. But you can’t very well say that to a stranger, what if he shoots you?

The truth might be the best in this case.

“I’m this year's sacrifice to the Great Wolf.”

He stares at you, and something dangerous slides through his gaze. Suddenly, you feel like you’ve come face to face with a predator and your grip tightens around the small knife in your hand.

“I beg your pardon?” For all that he feels dangerous now, his tone is still very polite and almost kind.

“I said, I’m this year’s sacrifice to the Great Wolf.” You repeat.

Ordo stares at you, and you think you must be losing your mind because you’re sure that his eyes are brown not gold. “I’m afraid,” He says slowly, “That I’m unaware of this tradition. Would you be willing to let me escort you to my home, so you can explain this tradition to my family?”

“Um…” You glance at your watch, you still have time before you have to start heading back to the temple, but Sister Rosa will be so mad if you return without any of the herbs that she sent you out here to get. And you don’t want any additional punishments added to your month-long punishment.

But, at the same time—

You glance at Ordo, he’s still watching you with those eerie golden eyes, you have the feeling that this isn’t a request that you can refuse.

“...yeah, alright.”

He smiles at you then, “Thank you.” The dangerous feeling is still there, but for whatever reason, you no longer feel like you’re in danger. In fact, you’d even go so far as to say that you feel safer than you have since the day you left your village.

Ordo is a good companion, you think thirty minutes later as he leads you to a collection of homes. He made sure that he walked at your pace, and he took the time to point out the various medicinal herbs that you would have completely overlooked while walking.

He even took the time to warn you that he, and his brothers, are all identical save for several scars and tattoos that they use to differentiate each other.

You appreciate the warning, but it wasn’t warning enough when, as you enter the small settlement, several identical men walk over to the pair of you. Several of them glance at you, curious, though other than a polite greeting, they largely ignore you in favor of their brother.

And then a shorter man approaches the pair of you. He’s older than the brothers, and you know, instinctively, that this man is their father. For all that he doesn’t look like them, the way that they defer to him reminds you of how you used to defer to your father.

“Well now,” The man’s voice is rough, but his smile is kind, “It’s been quite a few years since we’ve had a visitor. My name is Kal Skirata, welcome to our settlement.”

“Thank you,”

You jump when Ordo places his hand between your shoulder blades and introduces you to his father. “I brought her here because there’s something, I think, you should hear.”

“Oh?” Kal glances at you, and then he nods, “Well, lunch is almost done, and we have enough for one more person to join us. Please, follow me.”

You swiftly find yourself seated at a table between Ordo and Kal, a bowl of some kind of stew and a glass of some kind of sweet fruit juice in front of you. You’re introduced to the rest of Ordo’s brothers, and the conversation is light, and cheerful for a time.

And then, at Ordo’s prompting, you explain who you are and how you came to be this far in the forest.

It surprises you to hear that these men are unaware of the Legend of the Great Wolf, and it surprises you even more to see that they’re deeply bothered by the knowledge of sacrifices.

Somehow, your reassurance that no one has been actually killed in years does little to lift their foul moods. And when you question Ordo as to why your reassurance doesn’t help settle them, he looks deeply pained but doesn’t answer.

No one will answer you, actually.

And, before you know it, your watch is chiming that it’s time for you to head back to the temple. It quickly becomes apparent that they don’t want you to leave.

Kal offers you a room of your own, and a nice filling dinner and breakfast. He warns you that the forest is dangerous, even when the sun is still up, and that you would be safer here.

But you refuse. Your sisters would come looking for you if you didn’t return, and you would hate to be the reason that any of them got hurt late at night.

You try to refuse the satchel of medicinal herbs that Mereel shoves on you, but he won’t hear your refusal. You also try to refuse Ordo when he insists on walking you back to the temple but turns out that he’s more stubborn than you are.

You didn’t think that was possible, to be completely honest.

But, as the sun sinks behind the mountains, and the forest is cloaked in darkness, you’re grateful for his solid and steady presence.

“See, aren’t you glad you didn’t refuse me now?” Ordo asks as he lifts his lantern a little higher, casting the light a little further, and allowing you to see that you’re about to trip over a rock.

“You didn’t give me a chance to refuse,” You counter, “I didn’t know it was possible for someone to out-stubborn me.”

He tosses a grin at you, and you turn your head away from him as you kick the rock to the side, “Well, I’m glad you didn’t out-stubborn me. It got dark fast tonight. You’d have gotten lost.”

“Would not.”

“Would too.”

You open your mouth to say something when a low growl interrupts you. The hair on your arms stands on end, and you shudder slightly. The growl is so low that you almost don’t hear it, but it’s somehow even more intimidating that way.

Ordo throws his arm in front of your chest and shoves you behind him, taking the moment to shove the lantern into your arms. He presses his hand over your mouth, and you watch as his gaze darts from one side of the animal trail to the other.

Once again, his brown eyes have turned golden.

Ordo presses his hand against your chest, and he pushes you so roughly that you topple back into a bush, and the lantern shatters as you break through the branches, the light going out.

You try to get back to your feet or to crawl out of the bush, but you freeze when you hear the sound of dogs fighting. The fight sounds continue for, what seems like, hours. But in truth could only be maybe fifteen minutes before the forest falls eerily silent.

Finally, you crawl out from the bush and look around the dark forest. It’s almost too dark to see, the only light coming from the moon and stars above.

It’s so dark that, at first, you don’t realize that you’re not alone on the path. But, as your eyes adjust to the dim light, you catch a glimpse of movement to your left.

You think it’s a dog, a stray perhaps, that got lost from the settlement. But, as the shadow approaches you, and gets bigger and bigger, you come to the heartstopping realization that it’s not a dog.

It is a wolf.

A massive black wolf.

You scramble back away from it, your back bumping against a tree, while you try to keep your breathing calm. What do you remember about wolves?

Nothing, not really. You remember facts about dogs though.

Specifically, the fact that if you run, it’ll chase you and you’ll lose that fight.

Maybe, if you’re really quiet and really still, the wolf will get bored and go away. You can only hope.

But, much to your surprise, the wolf keeps approaching you. And then sits in front of you. Close enough, even, that you can feel the warmth of the wolf’s body through your clothes.

Your heart races in your chest, and you’re coming dangerously close to hyperventilating, and your mind is completely blank. You can’t remember anything about surviving a dog attack, let alone a wolf attack, though you know your mother covered it with you when you were a child.

But, as one minute turns into two and then into three, and the wolf still doesn’t attack you, your breathing calms. Your heartbeat slows into a steadier rhythm, and some of your mother’s words come back to you.

Stay calm and move slowly.

Know what aggression looks like in dogs.

You know she said more, but you’re still too panicked to think clearly.

Slowly, you lift your gaze from your knees to look at the wolf. Your gaze flickers to his ears, which are perked up rather than flat against his head. His body is loose and not tense. And his tail is slowly wagging against the ground.

He’s…not aggressive at all?

You flicker your gaze to his eyes, and then your breath catches in your throat.

Gold.

His eyes are gold.

“...Ordo?” You whisper, there’s a strange sound that you quickly realize is the sound of his tail rapidly wagging against the leaves on the ground, and the last bit of your panic slowly starts to fade away. “You turned into a wolf.”

That’s…impossible, right?

Although, now that you think about it, it would explain why he and his brothers were so bothered at the notion of people being sacrificed to the Great Wolf. Especially, if they are the Great Wolf.

You move to your knees, and reach your shaking hands out to lightly cup his face. You’re not sure if you’re shaking from fear or adrenaline, maybe a mix of both.

His fur is soft. Soft and thick, and you dig your hands into his fur, “I’m sorry for getting scared.” You whisper to him.

Ordo inches closer to you and his tongue laps up the side of your face, and then he presses his cold nose against your ear and huffs against you. You don’t speak wolf, but you have the feeling that he’s telling you not to worry about it.

You wrap your arms around the wolf, fisting your hands in his thick fur. He hasn’t changed back into his human form. Maybe it’s because he can’t? Or…

You think about it for a moment. Maybe his clothes got ruined when he changed? That would make sense, right?

Wolf Ordo is warm and comforting and you can finally think again now that you know you’re not actually in any danger. The final traces of panic are finally leaving and you no longer feel like you’re going to cry.

You’re also yourself enough to know that bringing a wolf to the temple is asking for trouble. The sisters are, understandably, terrified of wolves.

“We should…we should head back to the Settlement.” You decide, “Do you think Kal will let me use that room?”

Ordo nudges you with his nose, and you take that to mean yes, obviously. Don’t be stupid.

Slowly you get to your feet, you feel weak and shaky, like you have no energy at all and Ordo presses his weight against you. You’re not sure if he’s there for comfort or to help you walk, both probably.

It doesn’t take you long to return to the Settlement with Ordo acting as your guide. And, just like earlier that day, the pair of you are swarmed by his brothers and father.

Kal ushers you away from Ordo and into a private cabin, he gives you some clean clothes and some toiletries, and then vanishes, likely to go and check on Ordo, giving you the privacy you need to shower and get cleaned up.

It’s less than 40 minutes later, after you get out of the shower and get dressed again when there’s a knock on the door. You pull open the door and find yourself facing Ordo.

He’s wearing casual clothes, which is the only reason you can see the bandage around his arm. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing,” Ordo replies, his dark eyes scan you quickly, “Are you okay?”

“I’m not hurt.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You stare at him and then sigh and move to the side to let him in the small cabin. He takes a seat in one of the two chairs in the room, and you sit in the other one. “I’m okay,” You finally say, after thinking about his question.

Ordo leans forward slightly, “I scared you.”

“Yes, you did.” You press your hand over your heart, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid in my life.”

He closes his eyes, “I’m sorry.”

You’re quiet for a moment, and then you shake your head, “You didn’t mean to. And as soon as I realized who you are I wasn’t afraid anymore.” You pause, “Do you all turn into wolves?”

“Yes. It’s what my people can do.” Ordo replies, “The Great Wolf must have been one of our Ancestors—” He sighs and leans forward to take your hands in his, “I don’t want you to return to that temple.”

“I never wanted to go there in the first place, but I didn’t have a choice—”

“So stay here. Will anyone there miss you?”

“Mm…probably not. But, will Kal allow me to stay?”

“Of course he will. He just wasn’t sure how to broach the topic.” Ordo squeezes your hand once, and then releases your hands and stands, “I’ll let you get some rest, we’ll talk more in the morning.”

“Yeah, alright.” You walk him to the door, but before he leans you lightly take his hand, “Ordo?”

“Something wrong, Princess?”

“Thank you.”

He looks momentarily surprised, and then a pleased smile crosses his face, “Anytime.”

It’s been a year since that day, and you never returned to the Temple.

So far as you’re aware, no one even bothered to look for you. Maybe they assumed that you were killed by monsters in the forest.

To their credit, you probably would have been if Ordo hadn’t been there.

But things haven’t really changed for you all that much since that day. You’re now a member of the Skirata clan, which means you’re learning how to hunt from Kal.

You’re not very good at it, but you’re slowly improving every day.

You have become quite adept at identifying plants. Ordo insisted on it after the first time you brought home a poisonous plant thinking it was a medicinal herb. (Fi thought it was hilarious, and asked you to bring more poisonous plants home with you since he wants to cultivate them).

No, you would say the biggest change for you is your relationship with Ordo.

Your friendship with him blossomed into something that started delicate and unsure but grew into something as solid and dependable as he is. You know that you love him, and you know that he feels the same, though he has a harder time with the words than you do.

You shift so that you can stretch out, properly, by the lake. You’re slowly weaving a new net for fishing, as a storm damaged the old one, and this is a chore that you don’t mind, all things considered.

Ordo’s head is pillowed on your lap as he holds the ball of cotton that you’re using to weave the net.

Life has become peaceful. You’ve met Ordo’s extended family (which is a lot bigger than you ever thought), and you know that they’re working to end the sacrifices to the Great Wolf which, apparently, happen all across the country.

But that’s no longer your concern.

Ordo opens his eyes and you favor him with a small grin. He tugs the net from your unresisting fingers and tosses it to the side, so he’s able to sit up and crash his lips against yours.

You lean into the kiss with a happy sigh.

Yes, your life is good.

And to think, it all started because of a broom.