#it's that kind of inaccuracy that made me fall out of love with the show

[miwsolovely]

—PRIDE

pairing: task force 141 x fem!black!reader

series masterlist taglist next

summary: You’re not fragile. You’re not.

contains: military inaccuracies, Dissociation, mentions + references to past trauma, torture, reader gets triggered a lot in this chapter :(, hurt w comfort, mentions of kidnapping, panic attack ( with comfort )

wc: 4.9k

a/n: ugh this feels rushed :(

a/n 2: sorry for the wait,, ( unedited )

“I told you, step by step, what to do.” The weight of a knife, the weight of the world, feeling very similar at this moment.

All you can do is stare at the floor. Wishing you could see your reflection but at the same time wanting to see it burn.

You wanted to see what had become of you. What he made of you. Wanted to see pitch black iron slowly encrust your heart. Protecting it. Hiding it.

However you wanted to see it burn at the same time. Wanted to show him that he isn’t what defines you. Wanted to show him how far your pride could take you. Until it ultimately breaks you.

Until he breaks you.

“What,” A stinging pain erupts from across your face. “Not gonna answer me sweetcheeks?”

You cough, red staining your lips, your body, your soul.

He scoffs and then as if he remembered something, starts playing with the long crowbar in his hands, tossing it from hand to hand with a giddy smile on his face.

You hack out another dry cough, cringing at the sound and at the metallic taste it left in your mouth. You raise your head to look at him in the eyes. Every muscle twitching and burning in the process.

He squats down to meet your level, your eyes following his every move as you try to scrutinize his actions.

“You know I love you right?” His smile. His God awful smile leads you into a field of roses. But his eyes lead you into the hands of death.

You spit at his feet. The crowbar sings as it hits your head.

***

“You don’t like hospitals do you?”

You blink and try to clear out the fog that encases your mind. Trying to escape the feeling of the knives against your skin, the fist, the crowbar—

“No, huh?” She answers for you. Sophia, you remember, was the woman you were supposed to get cleared by in order to go on missions on this team instead of sitting at a desk. You needed to prove them wrong. No matter how much you resented being on this team. On a team again.

Today marks two months that you’ve been on this base. So far you have no reason to stay, no purpose, all because of a psych eval that was shoved down your throat.

You scold yourself. “No purpose.” What about the man with the overgrown, albeit beautiful, mohawk? The man with the chocolate skin that shined when kissed by the sun?

They were nice. Treated you with a kindness that was only ever expressed by three people: Vera, your Mom, and your sweet Ma. They barely knew you, didn’t say more than two sentences when you were shoved down their throats, and added to their team. You are an intruder. An intruder on something that was beautiful and intimate.

You saw the way they looked at each other. Pinched yourself behind closed doors whenever you felt something green and snapping coil in your stomach, when you found your cheeks getting hot, when you felt your heart skipping a beat or two. For the two Sergeants at least.

The Captain and the Lieutenant however, they were as dark and secretive as their eyes.

Your expression hardens. “Never did.” Never liked them because it leaves a trail. A scent for a well trained dog to sniff out and find you. Kill you and let the birds eat at your flesh, killing you ten times over.

“Well then, today’s not your lucky day, ‘m not finished.” She says. You can see the sass dripping from her mouth, straining her lips and words with a golden ichor, much like the rich ichor of his own sass, his own words, falling, falling, and coloring everything gold. A gold that decays and reveals ugly things, ugly intentions.

You peer at her through your lashes, you look around the room, a room that looks comforting, looks welcoming, but everything has its secrets, you shift where you are, finding the seat you’re in uncomfortable from sitting there too long, your thighs going numb. Spreading, spreading like a disease, his disease his love—

“Are you even payin’ attention?” She stands there, in front of you with her hands on her wide hips, blonde brows furrowed and her pink lips pulled into a deep frown. “Because if you can’t pass a psych eval, then I’d say you’re not ready.”

You huff out a laugh at that, an amused smile pulling at your lips. She stares at you as if offended. “Somethin’ funny?”

You stare at her through half lidded eyes, crossing your arms on your chest. “None of us are ready doll. Not a single one.” You say. “And yet you still see us running into war with our heads shoved up our asses.”

She turns pink at the term of endearment you used for her.

“Well that—that don’t mean ‘m jus’ gonna let you go! I have to evaluate you. . .”

You freeze at her accent revealing itself. It’s something rooted, something deep and southern, like his.

You think it comes out whenever she feels a strong emotion.

Like hate. His hate. His—

“I need to go.”

***

The girl in your reflection wails. Scratching, pleading, yelling, to let her out. Let her take control, let her so she can protect the both of you.

Your breathing comes out ragged, and you claw and fumble with your door until it opens, slamming it and locking the door. You stay there for a second, turning so your forehead rests against the wood, wishing the door was cold, not filled with this burning heat that dug into your skin.

You turn and limp to the bathroom, you wrestle with the door knob and you fight the feeling of your legs giving out. You wished they would too, wished the world would split open and swallow you whole, close and take all your problems away. All your pain and sorrow and—

A knock. Then a voice. “You alright, love?”

Your breathing is harsh and you’re sure whoever is behind the door to your room, Gaz, can hear it.

You try to breathe calmly. You rest your shaking arms on the sink and pray for the cold ceramic to ground you. You twist the faucet all the way to the right and cup the freezing water in your hands.

The girl in this reflection is screaming. Pleading, demanding, for what, you can’t figure out, but your head is pounding, your heart is racing, and water is still pouring out of the faucet.

Get your shit together.

Remember what Vera taught you. In for four, hold for seven, and out for eight.

Four, seven, eight, four, seven eight, four, seven—

“Angel?”

Your breathing took a pause. Angel.

Angel, is the name spoken with a type of special emotion you can’t put your finger on by the two Sergeants. Something that calms you, and something you won’t admit aloud. However it’s Angel, the same name spoken with a hostility that’s rooted in the Captain and his Lieutenant’s voice, that pushes you to build your walls higher.

You stand there, hunched over the sink with the water in your hands escaping through the gaps between your hands like sand in an hourglass; running out of time.

The girl in this reflection fades away, distorted by the ripples in the water caused by the tears that escaped your eyes.

You bring your cupped hands to your face and splash the cold water on your face. You keep your hands on your face, covering your eyes for a moment because you’re not ready to face the world just yet.

After a minute, you blink to clear the blurriness in your eyes and feel for the towel you remember setting on the counter. Bringing it up to your face and wiping away the water that sits there, wishing to wipe away all your problems as easy as that.

You walk out of the bathroom after setting the towel where you found it, not ready to look at the woman you know looks at you with a hostility that matches the Lieutenant’s in the mirror yet.

Through all the noise, both in your head and in the real world, the world that scares you to no end, the world that hates you, you hear Gaz’s soft voice asking if he can come in.

Now, in front of the door to your room, you hesitate opening it. Scared of what he’ll say to you when you open it, if you open it. You’re a Colonel. You’re supposed to be strong and unwavering in everything you do. Why are you scared of what he’ll say to you when he sees your red rimmed eyes? Your pale face? Your shaking hands?

“You’re not enough.” He’d say. “You’re never going to be enough.”

You open the door.

Gaz looks up at you, and it surprises you because he doesn’t look at you with the pity or disdain you thought you’d see in his eyes, but with a soft smile gracing his lips and his honeyed voice asking if you wanted to talk.

He wants to talk. Why?

You ignore his question and ask him yours in turn. “Can I help you, Sergeant?”

He shakes his head slightly, the smile on his face stays. “No, just wanted to talk to you.”

He’s looking deep into your eyes. As if past the red rimmed and glossed over eyes, he can see the torn little girl you are inside curled up into fetal position, scared out of her mind.

You’ve been here two months.

Two months fourteen days and thirteen hours. And you’re moving to the side to allow him entrance.

He walks in your room and turns to face you, using the motion of turning in a half circle to inspect it without you suspecting him of doing so. You still caught on.

The room you're currently in is not really yours, it's a room. Not yours because save for the bag of clothes positioned in front of the closet, the room was barren. The bed was made and left without wrinkles, the nightstand was left untouched and is starting to collect dust, the prison grey walls reflecting your prison mind. Lonely, grey, and bleak.

You stare at him, at Gaz, with cautious and questioning eyes before motioning to the bed with your arm.

"You can sit."

He smiles that small, never ending and perfect smile of his showcasing the moons imbedded in his cheeks, and turns his back towards you to sit on the bed next to the pillows.

Why did he turn his back to you?

You shift where you stand.

Doesn't he know not to turn your back to someone you don't trust?

You meet his gaze with hesitance laced in your actions when you move to your nightstand to take a seat at the chair placed delicately in front of it, sitting down on the old chair that's seen better days, you face the man in your. . . in the room.

You keep your hands in your lap and fiddle with the hem of your sweater. Nervousness seeping you're your skin and bones and sending a chill through your body. "You wanted to talk—"

"Call me Kyle."

You pause.

Of course you knew his name. Knew it and remembered it when you read his file, said it in your mind a billion times without knowing, you knew all their names. But names were for friends, they were for lovers. You aren’t either of those. Callsigns are for strangers. They’re for long nights hunkered down in God knows where fighting Good knows who. They’re so that everything stays secret.

“What do you want to talk about?” You ask again. Ignoring his request to call him by his name and swatting away the small part of your brain begging you call him by his name.

He pauses for a moment, caramel eyes melting and revealing good things, good intentions.

“Would you like to have lunch with me?” He asks. His hands, you notice, are unscathed, clean, save for the little white line disrupting the chocolate of his skin. How you wish for hands like that. Clean, soft hands that you’d wish to melt in.

“Just you?” You murmured, trying to sound, fragile. Your eyes probably gave you away however. Vera always told you that.

“Me and Soap if you’d like.” He answers, looking down at his hands and intertwining them.

Him and Soap, Gaz and Soap, Kyle and Johnny.

You breathe in and you swear you can taste the caramel of his eyes. “Okay.” You whisper.

***

“When you said “Task Force,” You said, mimicking quotations in the air with two fingers. “Thought you meant it was some place quiet, a Task Force that barely gets any missions. But no, I find myself in the hands of the largest and most well known special ops team known to man.”

Kate Laswell, your mom, lets out a laugh at that. She finishes signing whatever paperwork she needed to at her desk and leans back in her chair.

“Oh really now?” She asks with a lift of her brow and a smile curling a side of her lips. “And how will you accomplish what you want in life behind the walls of a “quiet” Task Force?”

You sigh, irritated. Your eyes narrow and your eyebrows furrow deep. For a moment, you almost forget it’s your mom you’re talking to. “And what, you expect me to stay on this team? You didn’t see how hostile they treated me.”

Your mom remains nonchalant while she speaks. “You sure you’re my daughter? Last time you complained was when you were eight.” She says. “And you’re right, I didn’t.” You watch as she stands up and walks to a cabinet adjacent to her desk, pulling out an expensive bottle of whiskey and pouring herself a fair amount in a glass cup. “Felt it through the door when I walked out.” She said as she took a sip, winking at you when she met your eyes from the top of her glass.

You slump on the chair you’re sitting in, resting your elbows on your knees and your hands on your face.

“So, what? I’m gonna be stuck on this team till he’s dead?” You say, rubbing your temples to calm the headache you feel throbbing in your head.

Kate walks back to her desk and leans on it, facing you. “No, you’re gonna stay on this team even after you kill him.”

You feel your heart stop beating against your chest, your lungs pausing mid inhale, your fingers moistening with sweat coming from your brow.

You hear ringing in your ears. Screaming. It’s the girl in your reflection, the mirror; she’s screaming. You lift your head from your hands and stare at her through the corner of your eye.

“What?”

Your mom sighs and walks to stand in front of you, leaning on her desk.

“What I’m about to tell you,” She starts, looking at you with hard eyes. “Is something that needs to stay in this room you hear me?”

Your fingers twitch and you find yourself nodding.

She sighs and rubs her head as if she’s fighting s headache right now. She looks stressed. “I heard talk about the Shadow Company kidnapping a scientist.”

Your brows furrow. “A scientist?” You asked. Where is she going with this?

She nods in response to you. “A scientist. His name is Dr. Kelly Berkman. American, mid to late forties, three kids and a wife—”

“Mom.”

“He’s, he’s the CEO of The White Lotus.”

You sit there, confused out of your mind as to why she would be telling you this. The White Lotus is a relatively small company that makes vaccines. Why would he kidnap an innocent man?

Kate stands there, watching you, pleading for you to connect the dots.

When your eyes widen and hands fall limp on your legs, her eyes shine bright with sadness.

You suck in a breath and will it to be your last. “He’s making a bioweapon.”

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !

- likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3 !!

©miwsolovely

TAGLIST.

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if your name is in white, that means I can’t tag you and you need to check your settings (on this app) !!

[alohastyles-x]

Campaignin' - e.m.

Campaignin' - e.m.

notes: this is my first fic in a while so be nice, haha. Yes I'm still stuck in my hyper fixation of stranger things. Marvel just isn't hitting me the same anymore tbh. I love my Druig baby, but man I need more inspiration for him. :((( anyways I hope you all enjoy!

Wordcount: 1.5k - a short little thing

request:  "it's an eddie x fem reader Eddie introduces reader to hellfire and she's instantly inspired to start playing with him so he takes her to one of his campaigns and she actualy really enjoys playing with his campaign members and they have a lot of fun playing. After the campaign eddie and reader head home and relax in each other's arms till they fall asleep" by @eddiemunsonsupremecy ; hope you enjoy babes! sorry this took so long

disclaimer- i know nothing about d&d so ... lol there is probably inaccuracies.

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist |

A cold breeze flew in through the open window, rustling the stacks of paper Eddie had on the table in front of you. With it, the smell of fresh rain hitting the soil outside filtered through, adding to the ambiance of the dimly lit room. Eddie's trailer, albeit small, was the kind of small that made you feel safe… cozy even. 

The papers were full of sketches and Eddie’s sloppy handwriting, as he attempted for the 5th time to explain the last campaign to you. No matter how much he tried to dumb it down for you, it just was not clicking. You chalked it up to information overload, nothing a good night's sleep couldn’t fix. He agreed, but a small part of him was worried it wouldn’t click for you even then. He didn’t mean it negatively… he was aware it was a lot to try and understand in one night, but he wanted so badly for you to officially join the hellfire club. 

“I think you’ll just have to watch for it to click,” Eddie suggested, sighing in defeat as he fell back against the couch. He had been really excited when you asked to join Hellfire, curious by their little game. He had let you tag along to the last meeting, setting you up at an empty desk with your art supplies and some snacks. Such a good mother-hen he was, you had joked, ruffling his curly hair. He eyed you keenly, before sitting at the head of the table, setting the ambiance for the game with a stern face, shadowed by the candles on the table. 

The anticipation had struck in you, watching intently as the boys tried to get past the wizard guarding the treasure. It was the end of the game, everyone hovering just above their seats, leaning in close to one another. There were whispers as the dice was rolled one last time… and cheering erupted. Mike had rolled an 8- the number that granted them access to the treasure. Eddie threw his campaign book down, upset by the pure stroke of luck Mike just had to roll the one and only number he could. 

You were mesmerized by the high rolling over the boys, the pride radiating infectiously off of them. The fear of missing out began to settle in your mind, as your smile slightly faded. After that meeting, you had cuddled into Eddie’s side as he walked you to his van, begging him to let you join the club. 

After a few naughty promises, he agreed, not bothering to run it by the others. He knew they wouldn’t care– in fact they had been asking you to join for a while too.  

For the sake of showing you the game, they had agreed to let Eddie play Dungeon Master again, knowing he would create a story that would be easy enough for you to join in on. 

“You’re right, maybe once I start seeing how the others settle in, it’ll click,” you said, leaning back against Eddie, his arms coming tightly around your waist. He kissed your temple, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. 

“When is the next meeting?” 

“Tuesday, after school,” Eddie whispered. You nodded against him, closing your eyes.  The breeze continued to flow through the window, rustling the curtains, sending the two of you right to sleep. 

***

Tuesday afternoon rolled around slowly, each minute feeling even more agonizing than the one before. When the final bell rang, you sprang from your seat, earning a few stares as you knocked your books off on accident. Rolling your eyes, you stopped down to quickly gather them before you took off down the hall to the room where the club met. 

Eddie stood against the door waiting for you. A sly smile spread across his lips as he watched you walk up to him. 

“The Hellfire shirt looks good on you,” Eddie smirked, fingering the hem of the shirt, his fingers grazing against your skin. Chills ran down your spine as you pulled him in for a tight hug, pushing down the arousal that grew in your stomach. He knew he was playing a dangerous game with the light touches. 

“Alright lovebirds, move. Some of us have a game to play,” Dustin said behind you, his toothy smile prominent. Mike stood beside him, smirking a little at Dustin’s comment. You smiled and moved out of the way allowing them into the room. 

The rest of the club members were already seated around the table, their binders open, waiting for their dungeon master to get settled in. You took the open seat next to Gareth at the head of the table near Eddie’s make shift throne. He hit play on the radio next to him, and ominous music filled the room, setting the vibe for the story he began to unfold. 

You were on the edge of your seat, mesmerized by the world Eddie had created. His words captivated your mind, setting the storyline beautifully, in a way that was easy for you to follow. Eddie knew you’d have no problem following along with this story he created, your imagination was perfect for this game.

At one point, you were faced with a choice, head right into the twisty woods where the monsters crept, or head left past the witches cottage. The choice was clear to the rest of the team, as they sat antsy, waiting for you to pick the correct path. 

“Ummm…,” You hesitated looking around sheepishly. The choice wasn’t easy for you, as you figured both could end very badly… it was just a matter of whether the risk was worth it. 

Gareth caught your attention, and subtly moved his head to the right. You noticed Dustin doing the same, as he hid a cough in his right arm. Picking up on the hint, you cleared your throat and sat straighter. 

“I choose the right path.” You said, rolling your dice. You rolled a 5, a safe number apparently, as the boys cheered, and Eddie continued on with the story line. 

After a couple of hours straight of playing, the group decided to call it for the night, leaving the game out to pick it up tomorrow. 

“How did you like it?” Eddie asked you, nudging your shoulder as you two walked towards his van in the school lot. 

“Oh my gosh, it was amazing!!” You squealed, hugging his arm. The look of excitement on your face made his heart melt. He never imagined he would be here, with the hottest babe in school as his, and she enjoyed his little world he escaped too? The stars had aligned a little well, he thought, as he smiled down at you. 

“Y/N! See you tomorrow?” Dustin yelled from where he and Mike were hopping on their bikes.

“Of course!” You hollered back. Dustin and Mike let out some ‘whoops’ and hollers as they headed towards the direction of their homes. 

Eddie pulled his beat up van in front of your house, his heart aching at the goodbye that would follow. You undid your seatbelt and turned to leave, your hand lingering on the door handle. 

“Stay the night with me,” you turned and pleaded. Your parents were away for the week on a business trip they had together. The thought of being alone in the house made you worried. 

“What?” He asked, a little taken aback. Neither of you had truly stayed the night at one anothers house before. 

“Come on, Eddie. I can’t think of a more perfect way to end this day than that. Please?” You asked, batting your eyes. He smirked, his fingers drumming against the dashboard. 

“Not fair, you know I can’t resist those eyes.”

“That’s kind of the point, silly.” 

“I don’t even have clothes here.” He pointed out. 

“You can borrow Charlies.” At the mention of your brother’s name he shuddered. Charlie was everything Eddie was not. Where Eddie was a societal reject, Charlie was the preppy momma's boy who golfed on the weekends.

“Yeah, absolutely not. His wardrobe is a little too colorful for my liking.” 

You rolled your eyes, and then looked behind you. A deep red bag caught your attention. Grabbing it, you brought it on your lap and unzipped it. 

“Babe, this thing is full of clothes…” You smirked, pulling out shirts and jeans he had shoved in the bag half-hazardly. 

“Yeah, those are dirty clothes from like two weekends ago when I spent the night at Gareths,” he responded, grabbing a shirt and sniffing it. He recoiled at the smell. Then it wafted your direction and hit you. 

“Oh my god!” You yelled, covering your nose, and shoving the clothes back in. “Well, we will wash these… twice.”  You grimaced. Eddie chuckled none the less, grabbing the bag out of your lap and turning the van off. 

He followed you inside, and into the laundry room, where you began the first cycle of his clothes. After that, the two of you made your way into the den, settling on the couch and watching some tv. It wasn’t long before the two of you were off in a blissful slumber, wrapped in each others arms.

[mythvoiced]

-. wenzhe-core (pt. 3 the return of the jedi) (main-verse)

panic attacks

if he were an idol/celebrity most (thirst) edits about him would be about his hands

sipping quietly and stressfully on his drink while people talk about things he can't admit to being familiar with because it's Niche Queer Things

he loves cats, it's not mutual

dogs love him, it's not mutual (he likes dogs just fine enough, but... fine enough)

thinks he has a sweet tooth because he's always sucking on a lollipop or candy or chewing on sweet gum or getting popsicles in summers, it's not a sweet-tooth, it's an oral fixation

all his pencils from tween school years were covered in bite-marks as a result

undiagnosed in one way or another, probably adhd

"i don't get people who can just sleep on trains, like, what if you miss your stop" he says but if he's taking a train and it takes more than 20 minutes to get to his destination he will fall asleep

pastel colours terrorist group

childhood friends with latent romantic feelings trope but he got over it relatively quick (he thinks)

as answer to the question what kind of anime he watches: oh, you know, demon slayer, blue lock, stuff like that

the anime he watches: skip & loafer, a sign of affection, the apothecary's diaries

seeing auntie nao in skip & loafer made him really weird for a week straight before he repressed it again

*smacks him violently over the head* this baby can fit so much internalized [insert] in him

once i finish the apothecary's diaries, by the way, i AM making a verse for him in that

"i don't really like children all that much" *a child hands him something to hold onto for them and he's visibly holding back tears*

he's actually REALLY weird about catching feelings i cannot stress this enough

if a girl he's into playfully smacks him around and leans into him he'll go home and scream into his pillow

if a guy he likes ruffles his hair and tells him to take it easy, cheer up, he'll go home and bang his head against the wall

in terms of non-binary people they're usually way out of his league

this IS his canonical hair-length (this guy is starting to piss me off btw the fucking gender envy i swear--)

also that last one was just me wanting to show you his manga fc again ♥

in terms of type of people he likes (both romantic and platonic, actually, they tend to overlap) he likes people who are (subjectively at the very least) mentally and emotionally stronger than him, people who can say no but are still kind

he doesn't have anything against meeker, more submissive personality types but he will usually create a stronger imbalance here where he'll try to be less of a friend and more of a caretaker

watching a historical/period romance: this is?? what is this, wow, i can't even tell what fake past this is supposed to be inspired by because the clothes sure won't tell me, the inaccuracy, the liberties-- wait, what are you doing, no don't turn it off, the second daughter just helped the love interest infiltrate back into the city which means all of qianqian's work to get him out of the city to avoid his death are for nought plus su mu just rejected the first daughter again and she stood up for the first time to chase after him and-

actually while putting this together i realized that childhood friends crush might have been a lot more serious than anticipated

i am casting the other lead as qianru btw because i can use content like this and bc it suits the personality i'm developing for her

also yes i am not kidding it's bad wenzhe might have straight up been in love with qianru we're- RUH ROH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[northernember]

Concept art of my FE3H!Red Queen au, starting with Cal as Dimitri of course. If you want to bare witness to my insane rambling, it'll be under the read more. FE3H spoiler warning.

So,,, I recently started another fire emblem 3 houses play through, and will probably go on to finish 3 hopes finally afterwards, but its brought the brainrot back in full swing. I have a general gist of who i want the main lords to be and a few of the house members but uh,, its a lot lmao.

The main ones I have set in my mind are Mare as Byleth, Cal as Dimitri, Maven as Edelgard and Farley as Claude, not only because I think they fit the characters best, but because I think it adds very interesting dynamics in terms of the fire emblem universe.

I absolutely adore Areadbhar, which is Dimitri's weapon, but I also love the very traumatic relationship Cal has with swords so I decided to design a sword based on the creator weapons. These line of weapons can only be safely wielded by those who have crests, and theyre made out of the bones of the goddess, the creator, the beginning,,

so i naturally kept that in mind and designed the sword based off the forearm bones and hand. Ignore all anatomical inaccuracies, its about the coolness factor more than anything.

Cal as Dimitri is just so [chef's kiss] to me, esp after getting that excerpt about Cal going insane in one of the cut concepts from the special edition set,,, it just slots so immediately well into dimitri's arc because they share very similar character motifs and tropes, and also general story tropes, their father dies, their step-mother had a hand in it, they're betrayed by their sibling. but at the end of it, when they come back to themselves and shed that anger they still try and Save their sibling etc etc.

Theyre loyal and duty bond, they were turned into soldiers from a very young age. Their ability is inherently destructive and it makes them more gentle out of fear of hurting anyone around them. they are generally kind and sincere, being deemed weaker due to the way they care and love, with something darker lurking just beneath the surface, but not because they are not who they present but because they are ashamed of what it means, of that part of themselves.

Until everything falls apart and they snap and are driven by anger and vengeance and use their ability to inflict harm that nothing else could ever rival.

And then once they are soaked through with blood, and see themselves in the reflection, their vision clear of that blinding anger, and a hand held out, granting them hope and showing them love and care, they vow to use their ability and and influence to protect their loved ones, and the people around them. they promise to uphold their beliefs and make things Better for those that come after them. im just,,, i love them your honor

Also the fact that in every other route where Byleth(Mare) does not choose Dimitri(Cal)'s house, he always ends up dead, because no one else is able to bring him back to himself, to save him from spiraling further and further until the only path he treads is towards a violent and bloody end, only they can make him believe he is worth saving, that his life is worth living for himself and not just in the pursuit of granting the violent wishes of the dead that haunt him.

And at the end of the blue lions route Dimitri(Cal) finds peace, not in vengeance, not in the arms of the dead, but in the people still living, in the support system that surrounds him, and in Byleth(Mare), he chooses to live for them, and lead a better life, and in the hope that maybe one day the water that washes his hands will run clear of blood.

I am a Marecal and Dimileth truther forever and always

Anyways this au is in no way fleshed out, mainly cause Im the kinda person that simply adheres to whatever is coolest to me at the time, so i don't know if I want to have Cal keep Dimitri's crest which grants Incredible strength (enough to crush a grown mans skull with little effort, one handed) or make a Crest that acts similarly to his sliver ability.

I just,, I love these games, and I love these books and so my brain decides to smush them together for the rabie inducing visuals. I hope you enjoy

[thefallenbibliophilequote]

The Asgardian Way

Loki x Reader

Summary: you get your period on the most unfortunate time- on date night with Loki. Embarrassed as you are of the topic from past experiences with boyfriends, Loki shows you that unlike mortal men- Asgardians view this time of the month for women in a much better way.

Word count: 1,849

Warnings: period talk, fluff, shade on Christianity, some shade on human men, Loki being the ideal boyfriend we all deserve.

A/N: this was requested by @the-departed-potato and while I do not take requests I just really had to do this one because this was like just perfect for me specifically to do. Sorry it took so long! Sorry if this sucks!😅 I also truly had to hold myself back from giving even more shade on Christians of old times because damn I could write a whole essay about those people and how they spread misinformation that changed real history to fake mainly bc of witchcraft. This is not beta read so all mistakes are by yours truly!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Masterlist

--

It's been going on for months now, the shameless flirting, the gentleman behaviour, and the devious looks he sent your way that completely contradicted his actions and left you a blushing mess even when he only opened the door for you- then he would wink at you.

It wasn't until one night that you gathered up courage to ask him out.

You were staying late at the Avengers Tower, you wanted to finish working on the new gadget you had built with Tony at the lab so he sent you to bring the two of you some coffee- he knew it was useless to tell you to go home and sleep- last time he tried to do it you called him a hypocrite and conditioned one of his suits to blast him if he gets close to you. You found it hilarious. He made sure to update the security of his code.

You went to the kitchen when you happened to overhear a conversation of two gods.

"Why have you not taken her on a date yet, brother?"

"I wish to court her properly, she deserves to be treated like a lady." You heard Loki respond to his brother. You leaned on the wall, trying not to get hopeful and to get the butterflies to calm down.

"Y/N is a fine lady, however, I heard from Stark that midgardian women might mistake courting like ours as mere jest." You smiled a bit at the scoff they both let out.

"Mortals continue to baffle me." Came Loki's comment, before Thor continued- not letting the subject go.

"Ask her on a date, I'm sure she will appreciate it." He encouraged his brother who wasn't as sure.

"I think, brother, that she is different- she will appreciate the old delicate arts of courting." He was not wrong- you were always old fashioned. But now at his admission, you stepped out of the shadows and into their view.

"While I do appreciate the courting, I'd love it if you would ask me out." Loki turned around at the sound of your voice.

"How long have you been standing there, darling?" he fidgeted with his hair.

"Long enough," you stepped down the stairs to stand in front of him. "What do you say about this Friday night at six? There is an art exhibit at the museum, I think you'll like calling out all the inaccuracies."

"Yeah, I'd like that." He gave you a small shy smile, and you completely forgot about Thor who stood on the side, watching it all unfold.

"This is great," he said. "You two are finally going on that date, see brother I told you-"

Thor stopped when he looked at Loki who sent him daggers at ruining the moment. You only chuckled.

"I have to go get Tony and I some drinks, so I guess I will see you then." You were about to turn around to head towards the kitchen when Loki took your hand in his, making you turn around, then he kissed the back of your hand lightly, bowing with a small smile at the blush on your cheeks.

"I look forward to it."

It took you a couple of second to function after he did that, mumbling a quiet goodbye you turned around and refused to look back at the smirking god.

•

You have gone with the god for a couple of dates now and then, sometimes you didn't see him for a whole week because of meetings in Asgard and while you were sad that you didn't get to see him-you were glad he was gone on that exact week every time.

You have been seeing him for about 2-3 months now and it was great- up until your period decided to come early. Right on your scheduled date.

You were nervously pacing your apartment thinking how to tell Loki that you can't go out with him tonight. You didn't want him to see you like this- he is a god, and you- you are a mortal woman who was having trouble getting out of bed because your body decided to punish you for not being pregnant this month.

Your body was so sexist.

Suddenly, a knock on the door.

Groaning, you got out of bed and headed for the door, checking who was there you were puzzled when you saw Loki there, dressed to the nines. Surely you didn't waste so much time, he must be early.

"Dear, are you okay there?" he called you.

"Yes, I'm fine- just a moment!" you tried to make yourself look presentable in a rush just so you could open the door to the dashing prince who was awaiting you.

You opened the door with a smile, which he returned.

You were used to acting like you were okay while your cramps were killing you from the inside but it seems like the god of lies could not be so easily fooled.

"Hi Loki, I was not expecting you this early." You laughed courtly, "And I was actually meaning to call- I'm not feeling so well today, I'm afraid I have to postpone our date tonight."

Loki walked into your apartment, kissing you on the cheek before pulling back to study you.

"I wanted to see you sooner, so here I am. But now that I am here- well tell me what is wrong, dearest?" he frowned when he saw you slightly clench your fists.

"Oh, I'm just not feeling well, I won't be good company and I won't be able to enjoy a lovely night with you I'm afraid."

"I'm a healer my love; you always seem to forget my magic," he smirked slightly causing you to laugh- which was not good right now for you.

"I remember your magic powers very well when you prank me." You countered. "But no, this is not something you need to worry about."

He reached out and took your hand with a small laugh. The door locked itself with a wave of his hand as he took you to the couch.

"I'm afraid you will have to do better than that to fool the god of lies." He took both of your hands in his and you were sure he could see your embarrassment with the way he was gazing into your eyes, "Now tell me, what is wrong?"

"You really don't need to- it's kind of embarrassing-" you started to mumble, lowering your head.

"I'm still here, aren't I? What kind of man will I be if I am not taking care of those I care about?"

You pulled your hands away from him, embarrassed as you mumbled something he couldn't quite put together.

"What was that?"

"I'm on my period." You closed your eyes- not wanting to see his disgusted look. "See, so you don't need to be here, I can take care of it myself and we can reschedule our date to a week from now."

It was not a problem to you- you knew the drill- but having to explain it to a clueless god felt humiliating to say the least.

"Is that all? Why didn't you tell me sooner?" You opened your eyes to a puzzled god.

"Because it would make you uncomfortable," you replied, suspicious of his reaction.

"Why on Odin's beard would it make me uncomfortable?" He frowned at you and looked you over. He started peppering kisses on your hands.

"Because it is my period?" You knew he is a god, but maybe asgardians women didn't get that. "Here on earth, men tend to be disgusted by it, they don't like to get involved in it or talk about it."

He huffed out in surprised anger- that you did not expect. The god in front of you did not know how human males could be so awful.

"Well that is preposterous! Women are to be worshipped at those times!" you stared at him-he had always treated you differently, unlike anything you have seen on earth before. You knew Asgardian ways of manners were much old fashioned and yet so different all the same.

"Then tell me, how do asgardians see it?" you leaned on the back of the couch, facing Loki and pulling a blanket over you. You liked how safe he made you feel, but this still felt weird to you- you were not sure how to react- to what extent it goes. So, curiosity got the better of you, "because if I'm being honest, this is kind of embarrassing."

Loki sent you a smile with a twinkle in his eye.

"Darling there is nothing to be embarrassed of! You are naturally as powerful as a thunder storm, a tornado- lightning cowards before you and your power!" he was going to make sure you understand it, he had never been so baffled by humans before. "You hold the ability of life- eternal life- in every drop of blood that falls from you- from the most powerful being in all the realms. For a couple of days each month- you are being shown your true power even through your suffering- and in that time you, my dear, are more powerful than a god. You should be nothing but worshipped. That is what the gods of Asgard know it to be true."

"Do they really all think that?" you felt a sharp pain suddenly and Loki came closer to you, put his usually cold hand on your stomach and you felt comforting warmness ease your ache.

"They know it. The people of midgard knew it too at some point, but then some people who thought themselves gods- I think they called themselves Christians- decided that the bleeding was a show of witchcraft and called it a sin and spread many lies about it, which now I see are still believed to this day. You see, they were quite stupid." You laughed at the disgusted look he gave you, which in turn made him smile. "You know, I probably shouldn't tell you this but…"

"You never obey such rules." You laughed and put your hand over his one that was comforting you on your stomach.

"In one of Thor's travels he bathed in a river filled with the menstrual blood of the powerful Giantesses. That was to give him enlightenment and eternal life."

"Ew, did he actually do it?" you scrunched your nose and Loki kissed it.

"That is not disgusting- that was powerful and very well respected. When he came back, he was the smartest I have ever seen him."

"I hope he took a good bath after it…" you chuckled and smiled at him, "Thank you for this, the Asgardian way of thinking is way better than that of earth."

"Now, dear, while I do have a preferred way to help take away the pain-" you blushed under his gaze. "Tell me, what is it that you desire? Tell me, so I can worship you as I should."

You kissed him then and you knew right then when he kissed you back that the Asgardian men are way better.

•

Taglist: : @callmeluna @sstanbarnes @buckys-other-punk @drabblewithfrannybarnes @easygoingtheatre @that-one-person @justab-eautifulmess @onceupona-happilyeverafter @wipplogg @supraveng @samwilsons-pillowpecs @ayybtch @kitkatd7 @chrissquares @make-me-imagine @jessalyn-jpeg

[devilish-miasma]

Hello! do you know gokushufudo(the way of the househusband)? For a request, it could be possible Dante and vergil and nero(platonic) with S/O who is like tatsu, the immortal dragon. Excelent and Cook extremely delicious, have scary smile 🤣 and really love and care his boyfriend/ son? Hahah it would funny see the reaction of vergil when nero introduces him to her as his mother, they shake hands and she warns him not to hurt her son(Nero) again. While squeezing him hand too hard (super strength) Thanks!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ahh hello again. Unfortunately I do not know much of what you’re talking about. I did some research while I wrote this but I would like to apologize for any inaccuracies written here, as my knowledge of this anime is severely lacking.

I would also like to inform you that this was kept gender-neutral, except for Nero’s part. I know you used feminine pronouns when you spoke of Nero, so I tried to respect that. I hope you have a lovely day/afternoon/night and enjoy reading.

Toxic

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dante

Oh my god, finally, someone who can get Dante to eat something other than pizza and strawberry sundaes.

Devil May Cry has been the cleanest it's ever been since your arrival. Cleaning the shop provided stress relief, cooking, too. So, you have no problem with your job as a housespouse. Though, it can be annoying when the electric is shut off.

Lady and Trish definitely tease Dante about it. Saying that the shop wouldn’t look this good if you hadn’t come around. Though, they do wonder what screws you have loose to marry Dante of all men.

Dante’s not one for finer, expensive cuisine, but he does appreciate the effort you put in meals. Making him meals for when he’s out demon hunting, preparing a meal for when he returns home. It makes Dante feel special, and feeling this way has made him fight harder. It pushes his determination to return home quicker and see you.

He’ll convince you to make homemade pizza. You only learn a recipe because it makes him happy, but you refuse to make a habit out of it. You just want Dante to eat something other than pizza for once.

Sometimes, Dante will come home super late, and he’ll see you at the table, asleep. Gently, he’ll pick you up and put you to bed, only for you to grab him and grumble about food in the fridge. Dante just smiles and kisses your temple.

As nice as you are, you’re also scary. You definitely scare him at times, including those affiliated with Devil May Cry. You have this… expression that demands authority. You even get Vergil to listen to you, and that’s saying something.

“You’re seriously that intimidated by someone so smaller than you, Verge?”

“How laughable for you to assume such things, little brother, when you bat your eye at them and do whatever they wish.”

Dante and Vergil’s fights end quickly now that you’re in the picture. Both of them stop due to not wanting to feel your wrath.

In general, you’re a badass. Once, you caught wind of a demon hunting job gone wrong, and you showed up, guns blazing (literally), proclaiming to your adversaries that you’re a housespouse. Dante has never seen anything hotter.

You are a sweetheart to Dante, though. Very loving, caring deeply for your husband. You lovingly kiss and hold him, his inner demon purring in happiness. The relationship makes Dante feel content, and he knows this is what he’s always wanted.

Vergil

“Ah yes. Me. My spouse. And their ability to make demons cry.”

You’re kind, understanding, and strong, of course he fell for you. You are also unafraid of him. Having someone like that forced Vergil’s walls down.

Vergil built his walls up tall and strong, and you were so, so stubborn and knocked them all down. He’s never felt so safe, so understanding with anyone before. Falling in love with you seemed as natural as breathing.

As sweet and kind as you are to him, your wrath is not to be tested. Vergil is not a man who is intimidated easily, but seeing what you’ve done to him and Dante when they fight made him realize you’re a force to be reckoned with. And he admires that.

Vergil enjoys cooking discussions with you. He loves seeing you become enthused with your craft, seeing how you become when speaking about cooking. Sometimes he doesn’t understand what you’re talking about but he enjoys learning. And you enjoy teaching him.

He’ll sometimes watch you cook. It’s very relaxing.

Cooking for him makes Vergil feel emotions. It is an act that makes him fall deeper and deeper in love with you.

Vergil doesn’t become jealous in your relationship knowing you can put those who flirt with you in their place. Once, Dante flirted with you, unaware of your relationship with him. Dante earned the shock of his life when you announced that you “had a man one-hundred times finer than” him while showing off your ring, and then grabbing Vergil and showing his ring.

Knowing that you’re so loyal also provides comfort to Vergil. He doesn’t know what he’d do if you’re suddenly not in his life.

When he’s out demon hunting with his brother or son (or both), you’ll always make lunch for him. Vergil has taken it upon himself to eat on top of Nico’s van to avoid being teased. Not that it's embarrassing, he just sincerely hates it when his brother does that.

You’re always up waiting for him, even though he tells you not to. You await with dinner ready, and Vergil can faintly smell cleaning products. From earlier cleaning, he guessed. It's a natural, normal thing and Vergil cannot imagine himself coming home to anything other than that.

Nero (platonic) (fem!reader)

You first met Nero at the grocery store, and this sweetheart grabbed something for you on the very top shelf. You met him again out in public when some men were harassing you, which he unkindly told them to fuck off. That’s when you invited Nero for tea, and you’ve adopted him ever since.

You are absolutely kind to him, a total sweetheart. Nero came to your place multiple times for lunch, even invited you to meet Kyrie. You bonded with his girlfriend through cooking, even teaching her a thing or two.

Soon, Nero found himself attached to you. He looked up to you, an older, positive feminine figure in his life, one he thought he’d never have. He began to see you as a mother, and due to how nurturing you were, it seemed natural for those feelings to fall in place like pieces to a puzzle.

With that sweet, caring side was a fierce protective personality.

“Don’t talk to me or my son ever again,” You growl at some asshole. Nero has never felt so cherished before.

When you met Vergil, it was hilarious and scary. Nero already told you about the whole arm ripping off business, and it formed some bitterness within you. When you met, you put on a happy mask and introduced yourself to this stoic, unflinching man. You knew what you needed to do.

As you shook hands, Vergil made a face best described as surprise. Through your smile, an intimidating aura leaked off of you. You gripped his hand with such force it surprised him that you, a human woman, was capable of such strength. Strength that affected a full grown half-demon.

You suddenly grasped his collar and forced him down to your level, your lower eyelid twitching.

“Listen here, mister,” your voice oozed with venom and protectiveness over Nero. “If I ever hear that you’ve hurt my son again, I will make you rue your very birth. Do that shit again and you will regret it. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Nero and Dante have never laughed so hard.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Read it on AO3 | Rules | Buy this devil a coffee

[1shot-wonder]

For Now (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Bucky Barnes x Reader Fluff...that’s all you get! It’s a surprise! Just know it’s soft and sweet and cute and happy. 

As always, Reader should be gender neutral. Please tell me if I missed anything. 

Canon? Who is she? (Though if I had to place it probably like...post FATWS show, in the somewhat distant future once Bucky has worked with a therapist who is actually helpful)

*Disclaimer- I have never been to the grand canyon and I am too lazy to research it so please just role with the inaccuracies.

“Woah.” Bucky breathed quietly. You laughed and leaned against the railing of the viewing area. 

“Is it everything you imagined?” You teased lightly. Bucky hummed and leaned against you. 

“Better.” You grinned brightly at him. 

“Well don’t get bored too quickly.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I might have one more surprise.” You pulled something out of your purse and held it out. Bucky stared blankly at the items in your hand. 

“Are those....”

“Tickets for a 3:30 helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon? Yes they are.” Bucky shook his head and pulled you close.

“Thank you doll. You’re too good for me.”

“No such thing. Now come on, or we’ll miss our flight!”

///

“That was incredible. Thank you, Y/N.” Bucky said sincerely as you drove off towards your hotel.

“You are very welcome. Consider it an early birthday present.”

“My birthday was two weeks ago.”

“Christmas.” Bucky laughed affectionately. 

“Hey, can you stop here. I need something to drink?” You pulled the car into the gas station. “Want anything?”

“I’m good. Be quick.”

“How could I not be, with you waiting for me.”

“Go get your drink.” You shoved him out of the car and settled back into your seat. Bucky laughed and made his way into the store. 

He couldn’t believe it. He’d just gone on a helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon. It was the kind of thing he used to dream about when he was a kid. And you made it happen. You must have been planning it for months. God, he loved you.

While he was waiting in line, one of the candy displays caught his eye. It was stupid. Stupid and juvenile and-

He grabbed one and tossed it on the counter before he could change his mind. 

///

“Mmph. Petition to just order pizza for dinner.” You groaned into the pillow. Bucky chuckled. 

“Can I have two minutes before you fall asleep.”

“Better be good.”

“I got you something.” You huffed and pushed yourself into a sitting position.  “I wanted to thank you for the day.” He started awkwardly. “Well...more than just today. For...everything. You are...incredible. I never thought I’d meet anyone like you.”

“Bucky...” You sat up on your knees. 

“This isn’t how I wanted this to go. I’m saving up for the real thing but- I have to ask you now. So I got.. a placeholder. Of sorts.” You raised an eyebrow. Bucky shook his head and pulled out his surprise. “So...Y/N. Will you marry me? I promise to get you a real one as soon as I can.”

“Bucky you absolute dork, of course I will.” You held out your hands to pull him to you. “I love you. I would love to marry you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Now give me my engagement ring.” Bucky snorted and held out the Ring Pop. “You even got my favorite flavor.” You teased. 

“I take it back.”

“Too late.” You donned the ring. “You’re stuck with me now.” He laughed. “Why the candy?”

“If I proposed to you with absolutely nothing my mother would come back from the beyond and tan my hide.” He joked. “I don’t know. Just felt wrong to ask empty handed. Besides, I like giving you things.”

“Well, it is very much appreciated. I think it’s the best engagement ring I’ve ever seen.”

--BONUS--

[Image Description: Bucky and you have your heads pressed together in the frame. You hold your ring-pop adorned hand up against his cheek. You are both grinning widely.]

@Y/N: I said yes!

@CaptainAmerica: Barnes you did not propose with a ring pop.

@WhiteWolf: It’s temporary.

@Y/N: I think it was very sweet

@CaptainAmerica: Was?

@WhiteWolf: It lasted ten minutes.

@Y/N: Actually thanks to this pic it’ll last forever. 

///

I'm sorry! I know it's super short! I'm working on it.

Anyway this is what happens when I watch Bridgerton and eat candy at the same time.

Thank you for reading!

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Going To Disney With The Avengers Gang™ | Planning The Trip

Part One of my "Going To Disney With The Avengers Gang™" headcanon series

Includes: (The Whole Gang) Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Vision, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, Thor Odinson, Loki Laufeyson

Word Count: 3.9k

Relationships: The Avengers x F!Reader, Ambiguous; just how we like it ;)

Going To Disney With The Avengers Gang™ Master List

→The whole idea starts when the team is lounging at the compound doing regular™ team things

→A.K.A Wanda, y/n, Pietro, and Vision are in a pile on one of the couches cuddling, Clint and Nat are across the room playing pool, Bucky is making ramen in the kitchen, Steve is trying to convince Bucky to add an egg or something for more protein, Bruce and Stephen are talking neuroscience and bickering over techniques of spinal fluid something, Thor and Loki are fighting over the remote before Loki finally rolls his eyes and picks up the book y/n had left on the coffee table, Sam is asleep on the floor, and Tony is just tired

→In the madness though he picks up on the conversation happening between the four people on the couch

→“You’ve never been to Disney World?”

→Three rounds of “no” “nope” “I’ve only had a body for a year, y/n. When would I have gone to Disney World?”

→”Okay, yeah, good point, Vis. But y’all would love it. I haven’t been since high school but I want to go again so bad. We need a vacation.”

→Tony doesn’t even stick around to hear the rest, he’s already walking away while speaking to FRIDAY, telling her start pulling up the Disney site and analyzing it, disappearing to his lab and using all of his monitors to compare the resorts and try to decide where to stay that everyone would like (and where they would all fit because there’s too many of them)

→It doesn’t take him long to realize they’re going to need large accommodations

→Bruce is the first to notice that he’s gone, sneaking into the lab and scaring the hell out of Tony

→“Whatcha’ doing?”

→“Ah shit-- Bruce! How are you so quiet?”

→And then he points to the seven open listings on the monitors and explains that the team needs a break and that he heard y/n talking about Disney World and that he wants to surprise the team-- Bruce agrees immediately (the man is always in need of relaxation)-- and that’s how the team’s geek squad ends up playing Disney Dad #1 and Disney Dad #2 and planning the most extravagant vacation in less than three hours

→They have it down to a science after the first twenty minutes-- dividing what needs to be done and tackling it individually while bouncing ideas off one another

→“Do you think they want to eat at Beauty and The Beast Castle or Ariel’s Grotto the second night?” “I’m not sure-- book them both.” “Tony we can’t--” “FRIDAY, book them both.” “You got it Mr. Stark.”

→There’s a lot of Bruce wondering if what they’re booking is too expensive and even more of Tony reminding him that he’s a literal billionaire and that he could buy the Disney company if he wanted to-- that still doesn’t stop Bruce from suggesting more frugal methods from time to time-- it only makes Tony want to spend even more money because you need to lighten up, Banner

→The next person who realizes Tony and Bruce are gone is-- surprisingly-- Sam

→Honestly it’s only because he has to pass Tony’s lab on the way back from his room and he sticks his head in to tell them that “Romanoff and Barton ordered pizza if y’all want any… holy crap is that Disney World? Are we going to Dis--”

→Tony literally grabs him by the collar and tells him to hush it, birdman before pulling him into the room and explaining his plans for the second time-- “Yes, we are going to Disney World and I want it to be a surprise.”

→Sam just nods, his eyes on the screen and his brows beginning to push down and-- “Okay but why are you booking dinner at Mickey’s Backyard Barbecue on the same day that you have fast passes for World of Color at Epcot?”

→And Tony and Bruce blink and are just like “What?”

→And Sam is already at the computer, fingers stuttering over the weird ass hoverscreens while pulling up the page which shows that the World of Color has a whole ass dining experience-- Tony and Bruce have no clue that was even a thing-- and suddenly Sam is the one telling them what to plan because, as it turns out, this man loves Disney World and has been upwards of thirteen times and knows it inside and out

→Thank gods for Sam because these two Disney Dads™ were really shooting blindly into the abyss of trip planning without ever having gone to Disney World-- he has to shift around fast passes, dining reservations, water park tickets, and even the family portrait session that Tony demanded Bruce add

→He shows them all the things they don’t even think to plan-- firework shows, dessert parties, literally all of Downtown Disney-- Tony wants to be mad but he’s too busy picking his jaw up off the floor when Sam manages to book them for an After Dark Party in Magic Kingdom

→Bruce gets so excited when Sam tells him that’s a thing that he almost gives the plan away when Natasha comes rushing to see what all the noise is (it’s Banner jumping up and down like a toddler) -- he has to rush to the doorway, make up a lie about him dropping a piece of equipment, and then walk her back to the common area and play a round of pool with her to keep her questions at bay

→It’s all fine because Sam puts the final touches on the plan and has Tony give the order for FRIDAY to book it all and then it’s ready to tell the team

→They sneak back into the common area, it’s nine pm and everyone just looks so worn out

→Stephen is literally half way to snoring, legs curled under him on the love seat, doing that thing people do when they’re falling asleep and their head slumps and then they spring back awake, repeating the process an embarrassing amount of times but nobody’s even paying attention

→Steve and Bucky are talking quietly in the corners about whether or not they should just go to sleep because it’s Thursday and there’s really no point in staying up any longer

→Clint and Thor are sharing a bag of popcorn and half watching John Wick while discussing the inaccuracies of the movie-- “If he had a bow none of this would have happened.” “Or a hammer.” “Yeah, that too.”

→Yeah, they’re exhausted, and it makes the Disney Dads™ and Sam that much more excited to share the news

→Sam’s twiddling his hands behind his back and sharing smiles with Banner who’s trying to keep his excitement at bay and Tony is rolling his eyes but smiling too and for a moment nobody notices their cheshire grins and nervous foot tapping until finally y/n lifts her head from Pietro’s chest-- who complains at the action and lifts his head too-- and lazily asks

→“Tones, what on earth are you smiling about?”

→And the man opens his mouth but before he can even get the words out Bruce and Sam are already jumping up and down again and screaming “We’re going to Disney World!”

→And the room goes dead silent for three beats-- one, two, three-- and it feels like a million seconds and Tony’s face is dropping slowly and he’s ready to be like sike and then she jumps up, literally stepping on Pietro’s stomach, hurtling the back of the couch like a damn track star and rushing the man at full force, flinging herself at him and jumping into his arms and there are tears streaming down her face and she’s screaming

→“Tony you didn’t! Oh my gods you didn’t! You’re lying oh my god no! Are you serious?”

→And he’s nodding but he still can’t get a word in edgewise because she’s still rambling-- “You heard me oh my gods! You heard me and you did it! Tony that’s insane and reckless and oh my god I love you! Are we actually going? This isn’t a trick? Please don’t let this be a trick!”

→And he just laughs and spins her around and tells her that no, this isn’t a trick I’m not the mischief god here and Loki rolls his eyes but he’s also kind of excited despite the frown on his face

→They’re all excited

→Pietro and Wanda and screaming with Sam, slapping each other and just full on freaking out like children, incoherent and happy and raring to just go already

→In turn this wakes Stephen up who hears the madness and jumps up, on edge and ready to literally fight before he realizes what’s going on and calmly sits back down, nodding his head but not speaking because if this literal grown man opens his mouth he knows he’s going to freak out too because holy shit Disney World-- even sorcerers like Disney!

→Steve and Bucky are kind of confused-- they just barely remember Snow White when it came out but Disney World? They made a-- what is it? A theme park? Regardless they’re excited, ready to break the old men lull they’ve fallen into-- Bucky hears y/n ask if Tony booked water park tickets and gets super excited

→Vision is also confused but he sees everyone getting turnt over Disney World and decides that he is also excited-- Wanda momentarily stops being hyped up to ask him if he’s waterproof in which he goes into explicit detail about how yes, he is and he’ll show her if she’d like and she has to slap her hands over his mouth and tell him to hush

→Thor and Clint also turn into children but they’re the run around the room yelling types as opposed to the stand in a circle and scream types-- the gang is apparently just like fifteen children who barely manage to get things done apparently because they’re all hyped as fuck

→Clint sprints over to Nat whose hands are already up, ready to fight the man off because she knows what’s coming, but he’s too fast and too happy and uses all his assassin training to dodge her kick, grabbing her around the waist and spinning her around until she’s giggling and slapping his back

→“Natty we’re going to fucking Disney World!”

→“I know you lug, I heard Stark too. Let me down!”

→He doesn’t-- he just shakes her harder, cheering with the rest of them

→Thor slumps down next to his brother, nudging his shoulder-- “Migardians are strange”-- and Loki nods but pulls out his phone and starts looking up what’s actually at Disney World and-- “Look, brother, our home… wait is that us?”-- and the brothers get sucked into a rabbit hole of the Norwegian pavilion and whatever the hell the Frozen ride is and why their pictures are there

→It takes thirty minutes for everyone to calm down enough for them to actually have a conversation about what on earth Tony and Bruce and Sam did-- it takes another ten minutes after that for Stephen to finally break through the chatter to ask the most important question-- “Guys, seriously. You can ask about the plans after. The main question here is when are we going.”

→And Tony glances at Bruce and shrugs and is like “Tomorrow.”

→And they all erupt again-- y/n and Wanda because they have to pack and Stephen because normal people don’t just up and go on Vacation, you’re supposed to make time and Clint and Pietro because holy shit we’re going to Disney tomorrow!-- but Tony just brushes the worry off and reminds them-- again-- that they’re superheroes and that he’s a billionaire and that they can go on vacation whenever they damn want

→Cue fifteen more minutes of freaking out and y/n tackling Tony and then tackling Bruce and then, finally, tackling Sam who scoops her up and all but tosses her in the air before thanking her profusely for putting the idea in Tony’s brain

→They spend the next few minutes fangirling together-- Sam raves about all the food he’s going to eat-- Mickey bars, corn dogs, pretzels, those huge turkey legs-- and y/n talks about how she wants to get all the autographs she can-- especially Goofy and Pluto-- and then Sam mentions the After Dark Party and, like Bruce, she freaks out

→Finally Wanda has to split them up, grabbing y/n with one hand and hauling her over to the other redhead who’s still being held hostage by the resident archer and grabbing Nat with the other-- when Clint protests she curls her fingers, warning him with a pinch of red magic, and he holds his hands up, backing away slowly but telling Nat she’d better come see him before they leave

→On the way out Steve asks where they’re going and Wanda almost threatens him too until Nat tells him they’re going to pack for tomorrow-- he then turns to Bucky and reiterates the idea to a less than enthusiastic super soldier who tries to argue that I can pack in the morning but Steve just isn’t having it-- it takes five minutes but finally Buck agrees (but only after Steve says Bucky can just throw his stuff in his bag)

→The girls spend the rest of the night giggling and packing, holding up dresses and putting them down, shoving things in each other's bags and dancing to a playlist of oldies from Wanda’s phone-- Nat is the most boring packer but after some threats to get resident archer involved she gets her act together

→Pietro comes in when he’s done and Wanda scoffs at what he has packed but he only shrugs, slumping on y/n’s bed and giving her grabby hands until she rejoins him

→“But Pietro what if I forget something?”

→“You worry too much-- can’t Stange make portals?” He has a point

→What they all pack:

→Tony: Suits and graphic t-shirts. He’s either rolling up to Disney World in a Metallica t-shirt or a full three piece suit there’s no inbetween. He’s really not concerned about packing-- he can just buy whatever he needs there. After a text from y/n though he throws in a few pairs of shorts that he didn't even know he owned and his M.I.T. hoodie. He tops it off with a few gadgets he thinks he might need-- FRIDAY’s chip and some nanotech-- and he’s good to go. Billionaires don’t need to pack.

→Steve: Clothes and toiletries. Boring, basic, forgets swim trunks until he sees Bucky put his swim trunks and nothing else into Steve’s bag. That’s how he remembers most things actually; by looking at what Bucky doesn’t put into the bag. Along the way he suggests what the super soldier might want to pack while adding a few extra of his own just in case. After thinking about it for a few minutes he adds two books-- one for each of them. He also adds some tools-- a screwdriver and some pliers-- in case Bucky’s arm starts acting up. He’s sure Stark will have something but in case he doesn't, those will hold it over.

→Bucky: Swim trunks. And, when Steve begs, he grumbles and adds a few button downs and henleys. He also sneaks in a few knives, burying them in the henleys. He watches Steve pack for him though and leaves it at that-- what’s the point of packing when the super soldier can just do it for him? He’s not stupid-- he’s tired and Steve is fussy. He’ll have what he needs and if he doesn’t then he’ll just make y/n go swimming with him. Then he won’t need anything. Easy peasy.

→Nat: She’s the most level headed packer of the bunch, spare maybe Bruce and Sam. She Packs what she’ll need-- not too much and not too little. If anything she packs too many of Clint’s hoodies (three). Part of that, though, is her knowing that he’s probably going to forget one. She packs her normal toiletries, making sure to add an extra stick of deodorant and a bottle of Wanda’s red nail polish because-- despite the fact that she spends an hour watching Wanda pack her entire room-- she just knows that the woman forgot a bottle of that stuff and that she’ll be upset if her nails look chipped in the pictures. Wanda and y/n make her pack a bikini despite the fact that she has two scars from Bucky still and they threaten to get Clint involved if she tries to refuse-- “I suggest you put that little black number in that bag right now unless you want some aggressive compliments, you hear me woman?” She didn’t have to be told twice.

→Clint: Not as much as he should. Never as much as he should. He packs boxers, a pair of swim trunks, a few regular shirts and shorts (not enough), a couple nice shirts and a pair of jeans, and his toiletries. He’s gone longer with less but-- like-- he doesn’t have to this time? Nat walks into his room as he finishes packing and takes one look at his bag before marching to his closet and adding a hat, a pair of sunglasses, a jacket, a pair of sweatpants, and socks because who the hell doesn’t pack socks when they’re going to be walking around for days, how the hell are you an accomplished assassin Clint?

→Wanda: She literally packs as much as she can-- think the essentials times three and then some, like five different dresses, two leather jackets (even though y/n reminds her that Orlando is hot), her laptop and her ipad, two pairs of headphones. She has a notebook, a sketch book, and a regular book. Six bikinis and a one-piece. Three hats, four pairs of sunglasses, enough panties to last a month, let alone a week. She packs heels, boots, sneakers, flats, and sandals. Two purses and a backpack. Wanda Maximoff is the epitome of team mom-- anything Nat and y/n forget she’ll have it. She also packs a few things that she thinks Pietro will forget-- a few nice outfits for nights out and his main toiletries. Oh-- and sunscreen! Lots and lots of sunscreen!

→Pietro: Well, let's just say that it’s a good thing Wanda thinks to pack some things for Pietro because this man barely remembers his toothbrush let alone his phone charger. He gets the basics-- the bare necessities-- like three t-shirts, a pair of shorts, some (?) boxers, and like seven pairs of shoes because with how fast this man is he’s going to need them badly. He does, however, remember to pack his bathing suit and that’s more than a few people on the team can remember. Poor baby just wants to get there already-- he can just buy whatever he forgets.

→Vision: A very strange assortment of items. He doesn’t need clothes-- he can make whatever he would like appear on his body-- but he does want to feel included so Wanda gives him one of her backpacks and he puts like kind of random items into it. He sees a phone cord and shoves it in and like a hairbrush-- all items someone will need eventually but not him (later will find out that it’s the cord to Sam’s Iphone and will hand it over and have the audacity to say you’re welcome Samuel after doing it).

→Sam: He packs at least four ball caps. Nothing besides that really matters; he just knows how fucked you are if you don’t bring a hat and he’s bringing enough for the people who forget. As much as Bucky gets on his nerves he also packs him one. Besides that he packs normally-- t-shirts, shorts, shoes, socks, boxers-- all regular amounts. He freaks out a little when he can’t find his phone charger but he’ll just buy one when he gets there. He also brings a Polaroid camera and a shit ton of film-- some of his team members have never been and he will be documenting it all.

→Bruce: He’s the most boring packer and that isn’t a bad thing-- it’s the reason he has so many doctorates-- because he’s smart and level headed. He packs the clothes he needs with one extra of everything. He packs his toiletries. He doesn’t pack his whole room and he doesn’t pack nothing at all. He’s perfectly in the middle-- a Disney Dad™! He does, however, forget his swim trunks-- oops.

→Stephen: One backpack with a t-shirt, sweatpants, and swim trunks. That’s it. Why would he pack anything else? The man can open a portal whenever he needs! He’s always one step away from his bedroom! Stephen simply flicks his wrists and can change and rejoin the group in less time than it takes the rest of them to pull shit from their bags and wait for the washroom to free up. It’s actually a genius play.

→Loki: Despite being the most outwardly unenthusiastic he packs almost the exact same way that Wanda does. He’s a nervous packer. His brother laughs but, like, he has a point. Safe is better than sorry. It’s comical that he packs like five sweaters though considering that he can snap his fingers and make the sweater appear. All his clothes are either green or black. He packs at least one all black suit. Thor has to force him to add a red Hawaiian shirt and he scoffs at it and shoves it to the bottom. Definitely packs three pairs of swim trunks because he doesn’t like putting them one while they’re still wet. He doesn’t even know if he’s going to go swimming but he’s still doing it anyway. He also packs the scrunchie y/n gave him to keep his hair out of the way and when Thor tries to say shit about it he pulls a dagger from thin air and just chucks it. After dodging it Thor asks why don’t you just make your clothes appear the same way?

→Thor: Enough but, like, definitely not enough. The normal things but like less. He figures he’s going to be spending most of his time in his bathing suit anyway. Loki tries to remind him that he can’t go shirtless in the parks (he looked it up already) but he doesn't listen. It really is a good thing his brother can make things appear from thin air. He’s the type of guy to be content in a pair of flip flops and an open button down. He does, however, bring one of those dad-esque fanny packs and somehow he makes it look hot.

→Y/n: Literally packs the same as Wanda, if just a tad less. So many clothes that it’s insane. She, however, has the added bonus of her old Mickey ears-- a pink sequined pair that are a little worse from wear but still pretty. She packs a bucket hat to pin collectable pins to. She makes sure to leave extra room in her suitcase for souvenirs. She’s had her eye on the luxury bath salts from the Grand Floridian ever since the Disney Instagram posted them a few months ago and now that she’s going she won’t be leaving without them. She also packs the strapless dress she’s been meaning to wear for months now-- she doesn’t know who’s going to be there to admire it but she’s sure there’s at least one person who will. Besides, Nat’s been telling her to wear it for ages.

[aellynera]

Goddess (Orestes x Reader)

GODDESS

(Hi. I wrote an Orestes story - it started as a joke about the way Apocalypse says “my goddess”, and then I was like “oh man I want Orestes to call me his goddess” and then as usual, I don’t know how, but this happened. It’s rather different than most things I write, but I quite enjoyed writing it and I hope you like it. Comments, likes, and reblogs always appreciated!)

Word Count: ~4400

Summary: Orestes is a constant in your life and has a particular way of constantly reminding you.

Warnings: Mentions of character death (briefly described but not graphically.) Implied female reader. Definite probable historical inaccuracies taken for poetic license and dramatic effect. ANGST (I made myself cry while I was writing this.) Christians doing morally void but historically accurate things. Fictional timelines.

When you are four years old, your parents leave everything they’ve built in Rome - their jobs in the palace, their lives in the city, your father’s position on the council -upon the orders of the Emperor and move to Alexandria. Your father’s new role is to assist in turning that city into a bastion of the Empire, to help strengthen the government and support the supremacy of Rome. Your mother is to be a gentle guide to the women, in hearth and home and higher society. And because you are theirs, you go with them.

They meet with the prefect upon your arrival and he welcomes your family. He is bright and cheerful, yet loud and pompous and booming, stern but wise, and while he is a kind man, his volume frightens you. You cower behind your mother’s skirts, steadfastly clinging to her and  refusing to join in any pleasantries.

Another woman suddenly appears, a small boy with curly hair and bright dark eyes holding her hand. The boy regards you curiously and asks why you won’t come out and say hello. His mother tells him you’re shy, while your mother encourages you to release your death grip on her gown. Finally, after much coaxing, you relent and she pushes you gently towards the little boy.

His mother says you should go play in the garden while the grown-ups talk, and he reaches a tiny hand out to you, wide-eyed and smiling. His name is Orestes, and he is six.

And when you take his hand with a shy little smile, his voice comes out as a whisper and tells you he thinks you’re a goddess, and he drags you towards the garden to show you the little blue flowers that dot the grass, and you believe him.

***

When you are eight years old, one day you finish your chores early and decide to spend your extra time in the yard, weaving some wildflowers together into a chain while the mid-afternoon sun warms your shoulders.

You are quite happy to be alone and not around the grown-ups for now; they’re so loud, sometimes too loud. You crave the quiet, seek it out often, and you bask in it.

Until a rush of dark curls and bright eyes tears past your house, into your yard, and grabs you by the hand, knocking your flower chain carelessly to the ground. He insists you come play with him on the hill nearby and with a squeal of indignation, you let yourself be dragged along behind him.

Your ire over the discarded flower chain is soon forgotten as your squeals become laughter as you roll and roll down the hill together, grass and dirt sticking to your robes and tufts sticking to his unruly curls. 

When you tell him he looks silly, he tells you he doesn’t, and you insist that he does and he protests that he doesn’t. And so it goes back and forth and back again, until you push him or he pushes you or someone pushes the other and you both go tumbling down that hill, end over head over feet, your descent only stopped by a patch of mud at the bottom.

He might be the son of the prefect, and he might be your best friend, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t an enormous brat sometimes.

For a minute you’re both panting and red-faced and near tears, until he starts to giggle and you can’t help but join in, and only laugh harder at his outraged gasp when you hit him square in the chest with a chunk of mud.

And on the way back to your house, when you’re worrying your bottom lip thinking on how to explain to your mother why you’re covered in dead grass and damp bits of dirt, your robes most likely ruined, he tells you with the kind of confidence only possessed by a boy of ten years that everything will be fine, because you are a goddess and brave and strong, and you believe him.

***

When you are twelve years old, you hear of the school that Hypatia is running, because Orestes tells you about it when he starts going. You don’t like that he’s doing something without you. You don’t like being left behind and left out and you want to go to this school too. 

Your mother would easily say yes, but your father is reluctant, and it’s not that he thinks a woman shouldn’t learn philosophy and how to read and do arithmetic; it’s  more that enough other people in the city do think like this and he is convinced it will not be safe for you.

You care little for your safety. All you want, all you desire, is to be part of this group of scholars and to go to this school and learn. And what danger can possibly be there, when a woman is the one in charge?

So you beg and plead and bargain with your father, until a boy - now a young man - with curls like nighttime and eyes nearly as dark and twinkling with stars, steps in and says he’ll watch over you during your classes, and your father gives his permission. And so you start attending Hypatia’s school.

And when the older boys, boys who were nearly men and should know better, start to bully and deride you for desiring knowledge, when they taunt you and steal your scrolls and yank the ribbons from your hair, he steps in and tells them in no uncertain terms to leave you alone. Neither of your fathers, especially his, are particularly thrilled with the tussles he gets in on your behalf, or the black eye that one petulant snipe Cyrus gives him when he connects a punch when Orestes isn’t properly paying attention.

You frown at him as he sits in a chair next to the washbasin, a clean wet cloth clutched in your hand. He winces as you clean the blood from his cheek and gingerly probe the bruise swelling around his eye.

And when you softly ask why he’d do such a stupid thing, he tells you that even a goddess needs a hero to protect them sometimes, and even though you think him entirely ridiculous and heat comes unbidden to your cheeks, it makes you giddy to believe him.

***

When you are sixteen years old, you watch the boy with the wild ebony curls and liquid chocolate eyes fall in love with a girl. Only it isn’t a girl, it’s a woman, and you realize he’s been doing it for years.

Ever since your first day in the new city, he has always been by your side and you by his, an inseparable duo. You thought that would never change, but here you are, finding yourself forced to watch your best friend slowly but surely let his heart be ensnared by your very own teacher.

All he can talk about now, it seems, is Hypatia and her philosophies; Hypatia and her scrolls and the amazing things she is currently reading; Hypatia and her outlandish theories on the universe and the stars. Always Hypatia, all things Hypatia.

You never knew you could hate someone as amazing and wonderful as Hypatia.

It doesn’t seem to matter that his attentions are not equally returned, that she never fully indulges his lovesick whims and overreaching attempts to gain her attention. She continues to treat him as a student, and outside of class possibly even as a dear friend, and he continues to pine.

One afternoon you’re among the stacks of scrolls at the library, trying to find the parchment necessary to complete an assignment Hypatia has given you. You honestly would rather not find it and not even bother finishing your assigned work right now, and you must have some kind of look on your face because he takes the scroll you’re clutching from your hand and leads you to a mostly hidden nook in the room. And he stops talking about Hypatia for a moment to ask you what is wrong.

You want to tell him you miss him, that you want him back, that he’s making a mistake, but you can’t, you don’t. It takes a bit more coaxing, but you finally tell him you’re lonely and you wish there was someone you could find, someone you had to love as much as he had his person, he smiles and tells you that one day you will, because you’re a goddess and the right person will be pulled to the love and light you always emit. You smile back weakly and blink and look away and you want nothing more than to believe him.

***

When you are twenty years old, the library at Alexandria is destroyed.

It happens on a sunny afternoon not unlike so many others that have passed before, when suddenly the doors are broken down and the Christians rush in and the chaos ensues.

You’re sitting at a table with a quill in your hand, carefully writing your thoughts on a piece of parchment, when you hear the shouting in the entryway. And before you know what’s going on, shelves are being knocked over, papers tossed into the air like so much confetti, scrolls being thrown left and right. The air is beginning to smell acrid; you can see a few people setting small fires in some of the stacks.

The windows above you shatter as others throw rocks and even a chair, and you look around wildly for a way out. You don’t know which way is the right way to go, or even if there is a right way to go.

Everything is madness.

A pair of arms suddenly shoot out and grab you around the waist and your scream pierces the air like the horn on the top of the lighthouse trying to guide a ship to shore. Instead you realize you’re trying to drive this ship to its ruin, to free yourself from its depths with wildly swinging elbows and kicks, until you hear a familiar voice shouting your name over the ruckus.

You take in your assailant, all frantic curls and impossibly wide, dark eyes, and collapse into him in relief. Orestes tells you that you need to go, you need to get out, and to find both your fathers in the nearby council chambers and they’ll know where to go, where it’s safe. You ask him to come with you, but he shakes his head.

He tells you he needs to help save as many of the books and scrolls as he can, and you tell him to give you all you can carry and when you run, you’ll take them with you. So he loads your arms full to bursting, and when a rock flies by inches from your face and you drop the items at the top of the pile, he ignores that and pushes you roughly in the direction of the side exit. He says you must leave now, and he’ll be behind you before you know it.

He presses his lips to your temple ever so briefly, spares you a pained smile, and says you’re a goddess for the small bit of assistance you are giving.

As you run for safety, or what might be further peril, you spare a glance over your shoulder and see him helping Hypatia grab as much of the library’s contents as they can, and you don’t have another second to spare on deciding whether or not to believe him.

***

When you are twenty four, it’s your wedding day and everyone tells you this will be the most joyous day of your life so far. Your mother helps you dress in the softest, most expensively beautiful gown you’ve ever owned, and one of your sisters weaves a crown of laurels for your hair. Another sister makes a chain of wildflowers to wind around your wrist. You have never felt as beautiful as you do on this day.

Your father comes to the door of the chamber where your preparations are taking place, to let you know that the guests have all arrived and the groom is nearly ready, and it is almost time. He gives you a kiss on both cheeks, a gesture not common from him, and tells you he will be waiting out by the garden gate when you are ready. Your mother and sisters each kiss your cheek and leave as well, giving you a moment to yourself to gather your thoughts and emotionally prepare for the ceremony.

The door opens again a few minutes later and you turn to face the person behind it, Your eyes go wide, confused, as you take in the man before you. His dark curls are smoothed back and elegantly styled, his robes are regal and dashing, and his eyes are bright and nervous.

You tell him he shouldn’t be here.

He tells you that he knows, but he can’t help it, he has to see you. That he has been thinking of you all morning, wondering how beautiful you look, how happy you must be, and he just had to see you before you walk down the aisle to take your vows.

You bite your lip and tell him, again, that he shouldn’t be here and you can’t stop your voice from shaking. You turn your head away and look anywhere but at him.

And he repeats that he knows this, and he knows it’s wrong, it goes against all protocols, but he can’t help himself, can’t stop thinking that this is the last time he’s going to see you, see your smile and maybe hear your laugh, might be the last time your eyes can gaze upon each other and the last time he can hold you in his arms as his best friend.

You can’t think of a single thing to say to him, and even if you could, you’re certain your body will not cooperate.

Because he is not the one you are marrying. No, this marriage was arranged by your father and the Emperor, and there is the overwhelming chance that you must go back to Rome, and if you and your new husband leave Alexandria it is not likely you will ever return.

This might be the last time he can tell you that you shine with a light brighter than all the heavens, that you are beautiful and he hopes you will be happy, and you truly are a goddess among mortals.

And so Orestes does. He kisses you softly on your forehead, staying there a bit longer than propriety suggests, and quietly slips from the room. And you can’t see for the tears swimming in your eyes, and you want with all your heart to believe him, but you can’t help but find his words hollow and realize this will be far from the greatest day of your life.

***

When you are barely turned twenty-five, there is a knock on your door in the middle of the night. Perhaps knock is not the correct word, it’s more of an insistent pounding, and you swear under your breath at what could possibly be so important to rouse you out of bed at this unacceptable hour.

You pull a robe over your nightdress and open the door, and all the air leaves your lungs.

Four centurions are standing on your stoop, with a man who looks vaguely familiar; is he a general, maybe, or a captain? You can’t remember where you’ve seen him before, but it doesn’t matter, when he greets you solemnly and begins to speak, and tells you that your husband will not be returning from the front.

You did not return to Rome, as had originally been decreed. You stayed in Alexandria after your marriage because skirmishes had broken out along a few of the empire’s borders, and your new husband was called to action to fight for his ruler and the kingdom. Deep down, you could not have been more glad of it, for though you were born there, Rome had not been your home for over twenty years, and starting a new life there with a new husband would not have made it any more so. 

Your knees give out from under you and you consider for a moment that you should be crying, but you aren’t really sad and it strikes you as odd, but you can’t force the tears to come. You love your husband, in a way, but you’re not sad that he won’t be coming home. You’re relieved, and the instant that thought hits you and sends a jolt through your body, you start to laugh. The general, or captain, or whoever he is and his guards look at each other, then at you, and back to each other in utter confusion as you continue to giggle.

It all happens in mere seconds, and you’re sinking to the stone floor beneath, and a very familiar voice, one you have not heard since the day you were wed, tells the guards to stand aside and strong arms catch you before you can tumble completely.

His hair is wild and curly like he was just pulled out of bed himself, and his dark eyes shine with worry and compassion, and he asks you if you’re alright, and this is what finally breaks you from your laughter and brings wetness to your eyes.

Orestes holds you as you cry into his chest and you don’t see the pointed look he gives to the captain and the guards, nor do you see them pull back enough to close the door and wait outside.

You don’t know how long you sit there on the floor in the front hall, or how you’ve possibly gotten his robes that soggy, but eventually you calm and the thoughts roll through your brain again. You are crying because someone has died, you realize this is true even if you’re not so very sad it was your husband. You’re crying because it was your husband and now there will be the mourning period you must dutifully attend as a grieving widow. And now that you’re a widow, eventually you will be expected to take another husband, if one even dares to want you.

And you’re crying because the one reason you were glad to stay in this forsaken city - in the Alexandria which had become your home - the one reason you hoped every day to lay eyes on again and every night resigned that you never would, was suddenly here, his arms wrapped around you and his voice whispering words of comfort into your hair.

You’re not sure when he picks you up and carries you back to your bed, carefully laying you on your pillows and pulling the sheet up to cover your shoulders. You’re not sure how long he stays, holding your hand and brushing stray tendrils of hair from your face. And you’re not sure how long you drift in and out, emotional exhaustion finally catching up and pulling you into nothingness, but before you fade out completely, you feel his thumb gently brush the remaining tears from your cheek, and feel the soft press of his lips on your forehead as he calls you a goddess and tells you to rest.

And as you finally give yourself to the twilight, you aren’t sure if you imagined it, but you choose to believe him, and you cling to it.

***

You’re not sure when it happens, to be honest. Time starts to blend together after that, you just know that you’re older and that it happens, and it isn’t right and it isn’t moral and it isn’t fair. Not to anyone involved, not to the city, not at all.

Hypatia has died, been murdered in the temple at the hands of those who profess themselves to be righteous saviors, brutally stoned and ripped apart as she stood there, proud and defiant to the end. How anyone could do such a thing to another human, especially one such as her, is beyond your comprehension.

It only gets worse when they burn her corpse on a pyre in effigy in the middle of the agora.

Word comes to you of the horrible events, and your first instinct is to find him, the way he found you, came to you when word of your husband’s death made its way back to the city. You set down the parchment you’re scribbling on the desk in your room and grab a dark cloak, partly to conceal yourself and party to ward off the slight chill from the wind.

You make your way to the prefect’s palace but you’re turned away at the gate by pair of surly-looking guards, and giving your name, and then your father’s name, and then the fact that your father reports directly to Rome makes no difference to them. They have  been told to let no one in, and let no one out.

No one except the person you’re looking for, apparently, because somewhere in the aftermath you discover that Orestes is nowhere to be found.

No one knows where he’s gone, and no one knows when he left, just that it was sometime between Hypatia being murdered and the fake funeral pyre. He had words with Cyril, someone told you, and then after that, no one knows.

And the Christians take over the city, much like the library so many years ago, and more people are burned at the stake, more people are murdered, more progress is halted, all in the name of what is right and what is true.

They will kill you, too, if they find you, or find out you’re looking for Orestes. It’s been years since you’ve really been in his presence in anything but the smallest of ways, especially in public, but you know there are still enough people who know how close you were. And if they know you used to be close, you know they won’t hesitate to come after you the same way they came for the philosopher. 

So you make inquiries as discreetly as possible, ask the gossips that litter the merchants’ stalls in the most innocent way possible, like you’re just a curious citizen asking what’s happened to the rule of order in the city. You even ask your father, once, but he doesn’t reply and his stony gaze makes you certain to never ask again.

And you bury yourself in scrolls and reading, in star charts and theories; in anything, really, that will take your mind off everything that is happening and your lost prefect. Your lost friend, your best friend.

The man you truly love, even if it’s taken you years of self-doubt and missed chances to fully realize and admit it, and now, perhaps do something about it.

One day as you’re sitting at your desk, quill in hand and head in the clouds, you think of something. Something that may be nothing, but it comes to you in a flash and you have an idea of where to go, where to find him, somewhere that few others might know.

You carefully pack a bag with some clothes and supplies, and a crudely drawn map that you sketch from memory and hope you’ve gotten right. It’s been so long since you were there but you’re fairly sure you remember the way. You know that Orestes would remember.

A long day’s journey and a fitful night’s sleep take you into the next day, and the afternoon turns into dusk when the hillside comes into view. It is not the same hill you tumbled down more than once when the two of you got into a scrum, but it’s the one that you would go when you could both sneak away and no one would notice for a few days, and you’d stare at clouds by day and the stars by night.

There is an outcropping set back from the hill, in the base of the mountains nearby, that a person wouldn’t see if they didn’t know where to look. You’d found it one day during a particularly vicious thunderstorm and taken refuge in the cave there, and you’d both commented on how someone had clearly found it once before you, for it was somewhat set up as a living space, with some mats and blankets and  a few rations left on makeshift shelves. Anytime you were on these excursions and it would rain, or you simply wanted to be out of the sun, that was where you would go.

And you hope against hope that this is where your answer lies.

You crest the hill and make your way to the foot of the mountain and you can’t help but smile, just a little, thinking this is where he would have gone, should have gone, as his name means of the mountains. In his abandonment, his escape from the city, could he have taken it literally? You’ve known him so long and it feels like the kind of thing Orestes would do.

The hovel comes into view, and you drop your pack, because he does too. Tending to a fire at the mouth of the cave, his back turned slightly to you, his curls a glorious disaster, and he’s grown a beard since last you’d seen him. It’s a look you’ve not seen on him before, but you quite like it, although you consider for just a moment you’d like any look on him at this moment, because he is real and he is standing right in front of you.

The sound of the pack hitting the ground makes him turn, and his dark eyes shine in the firelight, and he looks at you for long moments but doesn’t say anything. Orestes just stares at you, disbelieving, like you might be some kind of mirage or a trick of the light or even some kind of wicked spirit sent to torment him, and so he just stares.

Until you breathe his name.

He blinks once, and his face is suddenly full of hope and relief, all the tension and disbelief of the previous moments falling away, and your heart soars to the heavens and thumps ever so boldly in your chest, and your smile threatens to crack your lips, and the tears fall freely as words finally leave his mouth.

“My goddess.”

~end~

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[thiswasinevitableid]

Feel free to ignore if you're not interested in request/prompts. This popped into my head and I love your writing (the OT4 especially) so thought of you immediately. Consider: Duck and Indrid have been together a while, Barclay is a bud and occasional third. Stern enters the mix and the mantle falls to Duck to show him how to acclimate to and make the most out of a relationship with a sylph. Monstrous sexiness, curious wonder, and enthusiastic exploration abound. Thoughts? Again, no pressure

Here you go! I really liked this prompt!

Of all the things that could be waiting for Duck when he answers the door, Joseph Stern in his casual clothes with a black notebook pressed to his chest was low on the list. 

The agent blushes slightly when their eyes meet; this is kind of funny, since the guy saw him in the buff four days ago.

For most of his life, Duck saw himself as a one-person guy. When he and Indrid started dating, he figured Indrid was that person. He knew Indrid and Barclay had fucked around in the past, which he mostly took as a sign that Barclay had good taste and that Indrid has, at some point, probably eaten meals that weren’t from foil packets. 

When he asked his boyfriend if he ever missed fucking around with Bigfoot, Indrid poofed up and made the little chirr that means he’s embarrassed. It wasn’t until Duck pinned him down and growled at him to be honest that he admitted he’d been fantasizing about Barclay and Duck holding him down and using him until his feathers were a mess and his human form was thoroughly soaked in sweat. 

How could Duck deny him that? Especially when it was Barclay, who Duck cares about and trusts, and who is clearly still a little enamored that a former court seer wants a commoner to fuck him. 

When Barclay and Joe finally started dating, he and Indrid kind of figured that was the end of Barclay dropping into their bedroom. The cook practically glowed whenever Joe was in the room (not literally, which is what sometimes happens if he’s in the room with Aubrey when Dani walks in), and for a few months it was hard to get Joe’s attention if Barclay was within his sight. 

Which is why even Indrid was surprised when the happy couple asked if they’d be into fooling around together. Indrid poofed up once again and Duck was forced to admit that he had checked Joe out more than once since he arrived in Kepler. 

Duck is going to go out on a limb and assume it’s that arrangement that has the special agent standing on his doorstep in a Fouke Monster t-shirt.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you’d just gotten off work.”

Duck glances down, realizing he’s still in his undershirt and work pants, “Uh, well, I got home about an hour ago but I was, uh, doin’, uh chores? Sweep-ing and, uh, fuck. I started playin with Pinecone and got distracted.”

Joe smiles like a movie star, “A good use of time. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Duck steps aside and closes the door as Joe immediately takes off his shoes, “you want somethin’ to drink? I got Whiteclaw, water, Strawberry Fanta, and some of that iced tea Dani smuggled over for us from Sylvain.”

“I’ll take some tea, please.” Joe sits on the couch, taking in Duck’s decor, furniture, and stray clothes with mild curiosity. 

Duck feels like he’s back in high school, having one of his nerdier classmates over to work on some project. He wonders what Joe was like then, if he was as put-together and confident as he is as a special agent. He wonders if, even back then, everyone called him by his last name instead of his first. He wonders if the guy was ever relaxed, or if he was digging his nails into his palms to hide his feelings all the way back in kindergarten.

“Kinda surprised you stopped by; figured you spent Barclay and ‘Drid’s date night, I dunno, doing those hunt a killer boxes or somethin.” He sets the ice tea and a whiteclaw on the coffee table. 

Joe laughs politely, “I can’t. I get too annoyed when they include inaccuracies. Although Barclay did buy me an escape room simulator.”

“Hell yeah. Man, I gotta get back to Keymaster’s over in Huntington, see if anyone’s beat my and Juno’s record on the Zombie room.”

“Well, now I know what I’m doing the next time I go into the big city.” Joe winks. 

“We could even double-date it if you want.” He sips the seltzer, “does it count as that if you’re all kinda datin’ each other?”

“Maybe group date is more accurate? I, um, that’s actually what I came here about. You know how you said you were surprised I hadn’t asked to have sex with Indrid while he was in his Sylph form? I, um, I haven't’ had it with Barclay in his, either. I was hoping you could help.” 

“Like with positions or…”

“I don’t know how to have sex with a crytpid, Duck.” He opens the notebook to a bulleted list, “and I have so many questions.”

“No fuckin’ kiddin.”

“I know it’s ridiculous but I just…this is so new and it’s exciting and I like them both so much. I can’t stand the idea of fucking it up.”

“Uh…” Duck is working out the polite way to say he just sort of learned as he went, including the time he bit Indrid’s antenna and made him knock over a lamp with his wing. 

“Like I said, it’s ridiculous. But it makes it easier for me to figure things out. And I figured I’d ask you instead of them because, well, you know what things about being with Sylphs are surprising or difficult for humans in a way that they might not.”

Duck shrugs, “I can help with that. Jesus” he giggles as Joe reveals a page that has a chart of of preferences, “do you do this when you fuck humans too?”

“Ideally, yes. My last few, um, encounters before Kepler didn’t really lend themselves to it.” The smile he shoots Duck isn’t ashamed; it’s disappointed. Like all the agent wanted was the chance to learn how to please his partner in exacting detail. 

“Can I see ‘em?” Duck holds out his hand and Joe passes him the notebook. He scans the lists, looking for one that will let him learn as much about the agent as the agent will about him. 

“I can answer this one right away: yeah, earth sex toys work just fine on Sylphs. C’mon, lemme show you something.” He leads Joe down the hall to the bedroom and grabs his toolbox from the closet. Everything in it is clean but it’s jumbled together enough it takes him a second to find what he needs. 

“This is such a good idea.” Joe taps the side of the box, “I might have to steal it. Oh, oh this is nice.” He takes the dildo Duck hands him; it’s swirls of teal and silver made into a hollow shaft covered in small bumps.

“Got little eggs that fit in it too; ‘Drid went fuckin wild for it when I used it on him. Funny thing is, I don’t think mothpeople even lay eggs; he just likes the idea.”

“Fascinating. Wait, these aren’t safe for anal sex” he holds up the silicone egg.

“Never said it was anal.” Duck grins and Joe quickly jots a note under a bullet point. 

“Do you think he’d like other, um, monster toys? I, I um, oh lord” he closes his eyes, “I bought myself a ‘monsterfucker subscription box’ to celebrate my last promotion and still have a bunch of the items.”

“Bet he would. Barclay might like ‘em too. Hell,” he lowers his voice slightly, “maybe I wanna bounce on one while I feel up those fuckin abs of yours.”

Joe blushes up to his ears and past his neckline, and then Duck can see the gears click into place behind his eyes. 

“That’s good, because judging by your collection, I have a few things you’d love.”

“Mostly lovin the idea of you in a strap.” Duck leans back, hands behind his head.

“Really? Enough to let me do anything I wanted to?” He carefully sets the toy aside and crawls up to straddle Duck’s thighs.

“Hell yeah I would” Duck slides his hands under his shirt and the taller man moans, soft and surprised. 

“Good, because if I’m using one on you, I’m doing it after you let me an hour or so to fucking worship this.” He grabs Duck’s thighs, then drags his hands up to his chest, groping his pecks as he bends to kiss his neck. 

“Fuck, if this is how you flirt I don’t know how Barclay wasn’t in your room first night you were here.”

“Shyness and self-preservation.” Joe hesitates, then darts his head up to kiss Duck’s lips. When he tries to pull back, Duck cups the base of his skull.

“Nuh uh, darlin, you ain’t gettin away with just one. Not when it’s so damn good.”

Another little moan as Joe’s composure goes out the window. He pushes Duck against the bed, pawing his sides as Duck breaks the careful hold gel has on his hair. When the four of them fucked around in the past, Duck mostly held or restrained Joe so the others could have him. He cannot believe he passed up the chance to kiss the agent, and he’s sure as fuck not passing up anymore. 

“You sure you wanna keep doin’ that?’ He dips his head to where they’re grinding on each other, “because if we do, we ain’t gettin back to your research any time soon.”

Joe glances over his shoulder, then back at Duck, “Right this second, all I want to learn about is you.”

“Now that’s some high fuckin praise.”

“What can I say? Indrid has excellent taste in men.” He pulls off his shirt, muscles taut and visible as he does, “now take off your pants, please.”

Duck doesn’t have to be asked twice.

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

Notes on Human/Sylph Intimacy, Entry 5

With the exception of those with vampiric traits, Sylphs seem to all have a scent that triggers arousal. D says Pineapple works exceptionally well for moth-sylphs. I’m testing to make sure it’s not some element of D’s own pheromones combining with pineapple that IC is responding to. After that, I’ll experiment to see what B responds to. 

Joseph finishes spreading the “tropical scent” sunscreen across his face and neck. He smells like a fresh-cut pineapple, a fact he hopes won’t attract too many insects. 

The four of them are at the beach of a secluded lake deep in the national forest. Dating a park ranger has more than a few perks. 

Indrid is spread out on a rock at the waters edge while Duck swims on his back, just as adorable and fuzzy as an otter. Barclay is on the towel next to Joseph’s, big wicker sun-hat pulled over his face. He was up until three last night dealing with a dishwasher issue and started snoring the moment he hit the teal fabric. 

Joseph picks up his paperback. By the time he turns to page three, Indrid’s antenna are twitching. By page five, a mothman shaped shadow falls across him as Indrid kneels at his side. The fluff of his cheeks rubs against Joseph’s shoulder as he purrs, “you smell divine, pet.”

“Thank you.” His cleverness fails him as it always does when Indrid calls him that. “Mothman's pet” was a more frequent fantasy in his college years than he’s ready to admit. 

Indrid’s red eyes narrow, “I know what you’re doing. So if you want to be a good pet, lay down and take off your shorts. You and my tongue are long overdue for an introduction.”

Addendum to Entry 5

I’ve eliminated several scents that I thought would work on B. Even IC wasn’t sure what would induce that reaction, and B offered to just tell me, but I enjoy the challenge. I have one more theory to test. B almost never cooks with strawberries if he can avoid it. When a recipe calls for it, all the windows are open or he makes someone else do the prep…

“Uh, babe, are you, uh, wearing a new” there’s a soft growl, “cologne or something?”

“No. Maybe you’re smelling this?” He holds up his new strawberry-mint chapstick. 

“....You picked that flavor on purpose, didn’t you?”

Joseph tucks his hands into his front pockets, “Let’s just say I’m testing a theory.”

That’s all he gets out before Barclay grabs his tie and drags him into the storage closet. 

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

Notes on Human/Sylph intimacy, Entry 8

I need to buy a blindfold. How did the light difference between worlds never occur to me before?

“Yeah, Sylphs all got better night vision than humans do because Sylvain’s got that whole almost-twilight thing.” Duck rests his cheek on Joseph’s chest, five o’clock shadow scratching his skin. 

“I wonder if that’s why so many cryptid sightings are at dawn, dusk, and night; if you can see fine in the dark, traveling then would keep you away from prying eyes.”

“Makes sense to me. Point is, if you want the lights on, you’re gonna have to be the one to ask because Sylphs don’t notice that much of a difference.”

“Noted.” Joseph tentatively rests his arms on Duck’s back. 

Sex has never been something he struggled asking for. But after years of one-time, near-faceless trysts, he’s discovering he forgot how to ask for gentle touches before and after. Barclay asks for them constantly, and Indrid never passes up the chance to cuddle. But something about Duck is different. The ranger is human, could have easily been one of those same exchanges of time and pleasure where Joseph could never really be himself. The fact that he can takes some getting used to. 

“So does that mean they find things like blindfolds more exciting because they spend less time without sight than we do?”

“I dunno. ‘Drid is kinda hard to blindfold when he’s a Sylph.” He kisses Joseph’s neck, “but if you find out it is, you better let me know, city boy.”

He squeezes Duck’s ass fondly, “Okay, country boy.”

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

“Man, don’t think I’ve ever let anyone blindfold me like this. It was so fucking risky just to sleep in my Sylph form.”

“Should I take it off?”

“No fucking way, babe. Wanna see what you have planned. Plus, I trust you. Know my special agent will protect me.”

“Always.” Joseph murmurs, petting the auburn fur on Barclay’s torso before settling between his legs. His boyfriend's cock is thicker than a human’s when he’s like this, but on the shorter side. Barclay had apologized that it didn’t match the “bigfoot dick” Joseph bought years ago. Joseph had made his feelings on the matter clear by climbing into his lap and jerking him off until he howled.

He lowers his head, licking a stripe up the half-hard shaft, which instantly earns him claws in his hair. 

“Fuck, babe, you’re a genius, that feels so fucking good when I can’t see it coming. Almost makes up for not being able to see you.”

He sucks lightly, “Does that make up for it?”

A huffed -out, pleased grunt, “Keep going and we’ll see.”

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

“It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just I’m…I’m kinda worried about him. I love how thorough he is but I don’t wanna, like, neglect what he needs because he’s so focused on making it good for everyone else.” Barclay taps on his coffee mug. He’s spending his Saturday off with Indrid and Duck. Joe is busy training the two new agents sent to monitor the gate in Kepler. 

“While I believe him that research is his love language, I agree that he is devoting far more time to learning how to please us than letting us know how we can return the favor.” Indrid kicks his legs into Duck’s lap, “what do you think, sweet one? You are, after all, his guide to, ah, Sylph sexuality.”

“I’m gettin a kick outta it, and I think he is too. But, uh, has he fucked either of you full on when you’re sylphed-out?”

The others shake their heads. 

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I thought. I think he’s gettin up in his own head and thinks he’s gotta know every damn thing there is to know before he can do that with y’all. It’s like he’s worried-”

“That learning on the fly, as you say, would be dangerous. That we won’t want him if he isn’t automatically good.” Indrid’s eyebrows fly up his forehead, “oh dear.”

“That’s bullshit though, he’s gotta know that right?” Barclay frowns, brown eyes widening with worry.

“From a timeline where we ask him, no, no he does not. Or, rather, he knows that’s what any of us would say but struggles to believe it.”

“Aw jeez” Duck rubs the back of his neck, “if I’d known I mighta nudged him to get more, uh, hands-on instead of askin me about everythin. It was just so fun, not havin’ to hide how fun and weird it can be havin a Sylph in bed, and he got so into it–”

Indrid removes his glasses and pats his lap. When Duck sits in it, he drapes his wings around him, “None of that, sweetheart. It’s clear your conversations made you both happy, and I do think a great deal of good came from them. And you were plenty hands-on” He grins and licks Duck’s cheek.

“That’s it!” Barclay perks up, “I know what to do! Duck, you got a pen?”

“Top drawer on the right. Joe brought a pack of nice ones over because he kept burnin’ through mine.”

“He’s so thoughtful.” Barclay sighs. 

Indrid’s smile widens, “Indeed. Which is why it’s high time we plan an afternoon of reciprocal research.”

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

Joseph tucks his spare key to Duck’s place into his jacket as Indrid calls, “We’re in the bedroom” a moment before he asks. 

The door is closed, and he can hear them laughing and whispering on the other side. All he has to do is turn the knob and join them. He’s opened doors to far more terrifying situations that his boyfriends offering to fuck him in their Sylph forms. So why won’t his goddamn fingers move?

He takes a deep breath, reminds himself for the hundredth time that his boyfriends have no reason to feign their affection for him, and opens the door. 

“Hey, darlin.” Duck is leaning against his dresser as Indrid finishes cuffing Barclay to a chair. The ranger is in jeans and a tight, white t-shirt. Before Joseph can ask if it’s alright to drop to his knees and mouth at his belly through it, his boyfriend gestures to the bed, “get naked and get comfy.”

Once he’s down to his boxer briefs, Indrid removes his glasses and shakes out his feathers. Then he produces the blindfold and cocks his head, “May I, pet?”

“Yes.”

Indrid doesn’t move.

“Yes, please?”

“Much better.” The sylph steps before him, sliding the silk down across his eyes, “if we’re going to be instructing you, I expect you to have impeccable manners.”

“Holyshit.” He gasps as narrow claws stroke his cheeks and Indrid bends to rest their heads together.

“That’s it, pet. Relax. As long as you listen to us, you cannot go wrong. Or, rather, as long as you listen to Duck and, to a lesser degree, myself. Barclay will not be speaking until later.”

An emphatic, agreeable, “mmmhmmph” comes from the corner of the room. 

“Since you are about to ask, yes, he’s enjoying this. And he has an excellent view of your rather sculpted ass.”

“Is he going to-”

“One thing at a time, darlin.” Duck joins him on the bed, “try’n stay in the moment as much as you can. We got you, and we’re gonna take real good care of you. Right big fella?”

Another “mmhhmph” from Barclay as the mattress sinks under Indrid’s weight. 

“Here’s how this is gonna go, city boy: you’re gonna do what I say, when I say it, and nothin else. We covered plenty about how to fuck ‘Drid, but there’s some things you gotta really feel to understand.” the ranger shifts beside him, taking his hands, “like this.”

There’s a sharp trill as his fingers find a solid shaft peeking out through soft feathers. It’s velvety in his palm, and as it hardens and extends it undulates ever-so-slightly.

“Wow.” Joseph adjusts his free arm as Duck guides his other hand in slow, steady strokes; the cock comes halfway up his forearm. 

“Yeah, that’s about how I felt the first time too.” The hands leave his own, only to dive past the fly of his underwear, teasing his dick with a chuckle, “okay sugar, he’s ready for you.”

Joseph yelps and laughs as four, clawed hands grab and tug him forward, tearing his boxer briefs to shreds in the process. Then his folds are parted by the rippling head of the cock and he moans at the new sensation. 

There’s a low, hungry purr from beneath him, “Such a lovely pet, taking me so eagerly.” Claws caress his thighs and stomach, his own hands twitching in front of his hips because Duck hasn’t told him he can move them. The cock inside him can’t go any deeper, and the Sylph grips his hips. 

“There, now I can keep you in position so I won’t thrust too deeply on accident. I’d hate to hurt my perfect pet. Especially when I intend to breed him.” 

“Ohlord, Indrid” it comes out in a whine as the mothman trills a laugh. 

“I read that check-list you filled out. You know, I don’t believe Duck ever told you, but Sylphs of Barclay’s kind enjoy a rather…creative dynamic if they’re a polycule.”

“Oh? OH! Shit, ohmygod” He groans as Indrid thrusts lazily in and out of him.

“They like to inspire jealousy; which is why I intend to tell Barclay exactly what I will do to you, how claimed you’ll be by the end of this that you’ll have no need for another.”

Joseph quiets his own breathing long enough for the low, unending growl to reach him. 

“If he knows what is good for him, he will wait his turn. Now, sweet one, I believe you have something you’d like to demonstrate?”

“Hell yeah I do. You see, city boy, I left somethin out when we were talkin about sex toys.” There’s a buzz and Joseph braces for the vibrations on his dick. Instead, Indrid chirrs, delighted, and the rhythm of the ripples inside him change.

“Holy shit, it, it, ahhhnnjesuschrist, it responds to vibrations?” 

“Far as we can tell. Here, lemme show my favorite.” There’s two quick clicks and then the tempo becomes a long buzz followed by two short ones. On the long sound, Indrid’s cock is like normal, but on the short ones it pulses outward, thickening for a second before retreating.

“OoOOOkay, I, I see why you like that” he’s starting to get giddy, like Indrid’s body is a cloud he could float away on. 

“You take the reins, sugar. I got more to show this one. You doin’ okay, Barclay!”

An affirmative grunt interrupts the growl.

“Now” Duck takes Josephs hands, rubbing his thumbs over his knuckles comfortingly, “I taught you about his antenna. But he’s got another spot that’s real fuckin sensitive.” He sets their joined hands in Indrid’s wings, close to his body. When they squeeze down, Indrid chirps and trills several words in Sylph. 

“Yes! Mmmm, ohyes, good humans, nice humans, perfect humans, treating my wings so well.”

“Keep ‘em there.” Duck growls in his ear before retreating. Under the growls and trills, Joseph can just make out the sound of a human hand on slick skin. 

“Glad Barclay isn’t the only one enjoying the show” he teases.

“Damn right he ain’t.”

“And that’s all he will be doing” Indrid changes the wand to a new tempo, “he had plenty of chances to do this to you when you first met, and he passed them by.”

A louder growl comes from the corner.

“Oh, hush. Just because it didn’t occur to you to breed him on sight doesn’t mean the, ohgoodness, the rest of us are so foolish.” His wings flutter under Joseph’s palms, “you’re a perfect little human and deserve to be treated as such.”

“You still okay, bud?”

Teeth tearing fabric, then, “Tell the little moth to get his dick out of my mate.”

Joseph tries not to laugh at how utterly wrecked Barclay sounds as Indrid chirps imperiously as replies, “I will do no such thing. He is mine. I am going to build him a beautiful nest and bring him flowers every day, make sure he is never cold or hungry or lonely again. And” the claws dig into his skin so hard it hurts, “I will make sure he stays so full of my spend that no one else will stand a chance of taking my place. Isn’t that right pet? You only let the best mate breed you, because that’s what you deserve.”

“Yes” he moans, then gasp as strangle cool cum spills into him, Indrid trilling about how good he is all the while. 

“You’re gonna wanna brace yourself, Joe.” Duck must be by Indrid’s head, probably scratching his keel. 

The snap behind him is wooden.

“Sorry man” Barclay’s fuzzy, huge palms roam over his ass, “I’ll get you a new chair once I’m done with these two.”

“No rush.”

Joseph is yanked off Indrid’s cock and shoved forward, Barclay pushing in all at once. He holds him down by his shoulders, grunting when he bottoms out. 

“Shhhit” Joseph rests his cheek on Indrid’s downy chest, “ohmylord that feels much bigger that it does when I blow you.”

“Good” Barclay snaps his hips, “because I’m gonna show you why I’m your mate and I don’t want you forgetting it for a long. Fucking. Time.” He jerks his hips in time with his words, Joseph crying out as he pounds into him. It’s deliciously overwhelming and he never wants it to stop, wants to stay here, clinging to Indrid’s wings while Duck pets his hair, forever.

“As for you, little moth-”

There’s a high, surprised chirp as Barclay blankets Joseph with his body. It takes Joseph a moment to realize he’s biting the other Sylph hard enough to send feathers flying. 

“AAAAHnnnnnyes, ohyes, yes you’ve made your point he’s all yours, breed him as much as you please-”

“Be quiet, baby.” Barclay bites down again and Indrid poofs up with arousal, chirping all the while.

“Duck? Mind helping me out?”

“On it. Guess this technically counts as a lesson, but Joe already knows how much ‘Drid likes suckin dick.”

Joseph nudges the blindfold up just enough to see Duck sitting on Indrid’s face, the Sylphs upper set of hands clinging to his incredible ass as he does.

“Fuck, fuck, babe I’m really fucking close.”

“Me too” his dick is rubbing against Indrid’s feathers which, combined with Barclay stretching him wide with every thrust, has his orgasm barreling towards him.

“See, I know just how to take care of you.” A tender kiss on the back of his neck, followed by the barest hint of teeth, “please babe, please say I’m your mate?”

“Yes, big guy. You’re my mate.”

There’s a howlgrowlpurr and Barclay cums, spilling so much into him that it drips down his thighs and onto Indrid’s stomach. His own orgasm roars through and suddenly he can’t tell which way is up, whose hands are on him, whose tongue is on his chest and whose lips are kissing his knuckles. 

Furry hands lift the blindfold. Barclay is smiling brightly, peppers his face with kisses as he pulls him into a hug. There’s an “oof” as Duck rolls off Indrid, allowing the mothman to sit up and flex his wings. 

“Everybody okay?” Barclay murmurs, petting Joseph’s back like he’s a spoiled dog in the sun. 

“Yes”

“Uh huh”

“Very” Indrid retrieves his glasses, turning human, “now someone come cuddle me.”

Duck laughs, scooping him into his arms so they can all lay down together.

“Well, darlin, how’d you like our latest lesson?”

Joseph pushes his hair from his face, “It was perfect. But I think I could use a refresher tomorrow.”

[a-cupof-jo]

Dyspnea

Parings: Potion Master!Jaehyun X Medicinal Herbalist!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Intended Angst, Magic!au

WC: 4.1K

Warnings: magic inaccuracies, food mentioned, tiny bit suggestive

For @ficscafe fic scenario event! 

Summary:  The candle flickered as Jaehyun’s breath caught the flame. The life you two lived together was simple, but he wouldn’t change anything about it, “Happy birthday, Jaehyun. Make a wish.” The flame flickered out. He hadn’t known it then, but he should have used that wish more wisely.

Prompt: 38. When they test out a love potion on their partner.

~~

It wasn’t fair that so many people get to enjoy this day while he is stuck behind the shuttered windows  dark shadows. He doesn’t hate this day. How could he? It was Valentine's day- and his birthday but that never mattered. Not to the everyday people who slip through his door hours before this day begins. He can’t blame them. For they came in search of something only he can provide. 

Love.

Or at least some figment of love. For some it was a way to prove their love. Others used it to try and get their long time crush to like them back. Jaehyun can’t help but laugh every time a young teenager pushes open the door to his shop for the nth time that week saying that they wanted to test this “love potion” on another person. Of course he doesn’t give them a full love potion. Just something diluted down closer to an addictive, like honey. It barely lasts 15 minutes. 

He hears a bell chime from the other room. Whipping his hands on his apron he walks through the separating doorway. “I’m sorry,” he glances toward a cracked window that no longer had sunlight gleaming through it. “I am actually closed.” 

“Oh,” a man just shorter than Jaehyun stood in the middle of the room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I’ll just come back tomorrow.” He bit his lip lightly glancing around the room.

“Nonsense,” Jaehyun waved his hand. “You are already here. Might as well make good of the trip. Besides. I don’t mind.” He grinned at the man, trying to ease the tension that laced through the newcomers face.

The man sighed before stepping closer, “I still feel bad.”

“Don’t,” Jaehyun gave a light laugh. “Gives me something better to do than stir pots,” he watched the man warily as the sentence left his lips. “Magical beings” were still a wary subject for some people even if they had been able to practice in the open for nearly 50 years now. When the man just gave him a small smile Jaehyun stepped behind the counter that held his potions and elixirs. “What can I help you find today Mr…”

“Oh, Lee. But just call me Taeyong,” he waved his hand around peering through the glass at the display. “Well here’s my situation.” He glanced up at Jaehyun. “I have a date coming up and my date said there is this potion that allowed a person to change their hair color just by drinking it,” Taeyong looked amazed as he stared up at Jaehyun. “I wanted to try it out for our next date. That, and I’m not sure how much more bleaching my scalp can go through.” He combed his hand through his hair giving it a light tug at the bangs afterwards. 

Jaehyun grimaced as he watched the straw like strands fall back into place, “Well you’re where you need to be. I have a lot of potions for that.” He moved down the row to where a shelf full of colorful bottles filled every inch. “There’s all of these, plus I can also create other colors if you don’t see one you like here.”

Taeyong peered back through the glass eyes wide with wonder. He glanced around the box a few times. "What about white?" He rested a hand over a bottle he assumed to hold the potion. 

Jaehyun grinned, "One of my best sellers." Reaching for a little black jar Jaehyun scan the man. He would obviously look good with white hair. He probably looks good with any color of hair. "You just want to try the white?" 

Taeyong hummed a second glancing toward the moonlit window, "Yes, just the white." 

Jaehyun set the bottle is a small leather pouch, "2 shillings." The coins clinked as rested on the counter. "Enjoy! Have a good night." He watched the thin man walk through the door and past the window before latching the door shut. Taeyong had been pleasant and kind but Jaehyun couldn't help but be slightly peeved with the man. Unlatching the door he peeked his head out; he glanced to his left and, yes, there was still the sign with hours stating 'Dawn to Dusk' hanging off the building. 

The moon was bright tonight and he couldn’t help but stare at it. How could it be that a ball of rock could bring him such peace. Maybe it was just the ambiance, but a little part of him wants to believe that there's a little man that lives on that moon and watches over the earth. It might seem ridiculous, but he could brew color changing elixirs and make people fall in love, so it couldn’t be that far fetched. 

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” Jaehyun jumped lightly as arms wrapped around him from behind. He sighed as you placed your chin on his shoulder. “Sorry I wasn’t back earlier. I got stuck talking to Johnny at the market.” Your finger traced little patterns on his stomach as you both stood in the dimly lit doorway. “Come on, I’ll make dinner.” You pulled at his arm. Jaehyun closed his eyes taking a deep breath of clear night air before turning and giving you a soft smile. “I may have something for you. You know, considering it is valentines day.” 

“Only because it’s valentines day,” He raised an eyebrow at you as you glided through the small store. 

You were once an enigma to him. Someone he couldn’t reach, couldn’t touch. Your brother, adoptive brother, Johnny was Jaehyun’s best friend growing up. You were the aloof younger sister that Jaehyun hardly knew about until you made it to your apprenticeship. For as long as Jaehyun had known you, you’d have always been enamored by plants and flowers. So, when he found out you were studying herbal medicine, he wasn’t surprised. 

“Of course, what other day would it be,” you gave him a small smile as you stood near the pot Jaehyun had previously been working at.

Jaehyun's relationship with you had been moments of fleeting looks, paths crossing, and unspoken rules. Two lives bending and swaying, following the same path, but never touching. Until you broke the pattern, you veered off course.

He had just finished his apprenticeship with the, now retired, potions master Kim. Mr. Kim had taken Jaehyun in from a young age, raising him when Jaehyun’s parents decided they didn’t want anything to do with someone containing magical properties. Johnny had planned a small party congratulating Jaehyun on his success. He didn’t know you were going to be there. Even if you were Johnny’s sibling you never showed anything but indifference to Jaehyun. Music had played from a small group of boys too loud for the space they were in. 

You had sauntered over, a small flute of champagne dangling from your fingertips. "Can you do it?" Jaehyun had been surprised by your bluntness. "Take over for Kim. There's gonna be a lot of pressure," you noted, not unkindly. 

"There will be, but Mr. Kim wouldn't let me take over if he didn't have at least some confidence in my abilities," he swiped the glass from your hand and swallowed down the contents. "Besides, he's still going to be around. He hasn't cut me loose yet." 

You grabbed his hand in yours and tugged him towards the outskirts of dancing people, "A dance?" You didn't wait for a response as you twirled him closer to the center of the floor. 

Jaehyun was not surprised at your fluid movements. Johnny had always bragged about how his sister was a natural dancer and the best in their city, perhaps the world. He smiled at you now sharing Johnny's sentiments. You gave him a small grin in return as the music died, "You're going to be great."

A whoop went up from one of the musicians, Donghyuck, Jaehyun's brain supplied. Your grin grew as you raised your voice in a louder whoop. Jaehyun watched as the sentimental atmosphere changed. You grabbed his hands leading him to a lively dance, "Beside, you can't fail, not when I'm just a few doors down." 

"You mean cause Ms. Joy is a few doors down," Jaehyun teasing corrected. 

You shake your head at him, "I'll be a few doors down." 

You were, and a line that you didn't know existed between you both was crossed. Jaehyun wasn't sure who started the late night rendezvous or the unspoken pact of always standing by each other, but turned into late night talks which turned into early morning coffee, and later, shared lunches. 

You guys fell into a rhythm, a three year rhythm that morphed into passing kisses, soft hugs, mornings of gentle coaxing and nights of soft loving. 

Jaehyun wrapped his arms around you glancing into the pot full of a clear liquid, thicker than water and smelled of sweet syrup, "Busy?" 

You spun to face him shaking your head as you fixed the collar of his shirt, "Everyone was too busy being in love to be worried about visiting me.” 

“Ah, the prettiest healer on the street doesn’t have love on this day,” Jaehyun furrowed his brow. “I knew this would happen. You would leave me because I have given love to everyone but you.”

You gave him a light giggle kissing the corner of his mouth, “I would never leave you.” You spin out of his arms walking further towards the house that sat behind the shop. “You are my soulmate,” you gave Jaehyun a look full of adoration and love.

Jaehyun was sure that his face read the same, “My perfect half.” 

You motioned for him to follow you, “Come, I made something for you.”

“Made something for me,” Jaehyun stepped into the small living areas entryway. “What is the occasion?”

“It’s Valentine's Day,” you had shrugged, pulling a large dutch oven out of the convection oven. You turned and furrowed your brows at him, “and I think there’s something else going on today. Any idea what that is?” 

Jaehyun shrugged, “None that I can think of.” 

“Hmm,” you opened the lid letting more of the aroma fill the room. Your mouth popped open in  mock surprise, “Oh, that’s right. It’s your birthday.” You placed vegetables on the table before scooping up some hot soup. You widen your eyes at him, humor dancing through them, “I can’t believe I forgot about it. Especially because I got you something special.” 

“Something special?” Jaehyun placed cups on the small table as you set down the plates. “Where is it?” 

You grinned and leaned in close to his ear, “That’s for me to know and you to find.” You laughed as Jaehyun let out a choked breath and scanned you up and down. “Now, let’s eat. You’re going to need all of your energy.” 

“You are going to be the death of me,” Jaehyun gave an astonished laugh grinning as you sat across from him placing a small cupcake in front of him. 

The candle flickered as Jaehyun’s breath caught the flame. The life you two lived together was simple but he wouldn’t change anything about it, “Happy birthday, Jaehyun. Make a wish.” The flame flickered out. He hadn’t known it then, but he should have used that wish more wisely.

~~

Jaehyun hummed under his breath as the sun shone through his shop's open windows. Spring was just around the corner and Jaehyun’s happy mood couldn’t be dimmed. Warm bright weather brought in more customers. More customers meant that he was busier, and brought in more revenue, but mostly he was busier. That was one reason Jaehyun loved his job. He was working with his hands all day. There was never a moment where he was bored. 

He watched as a little boy walked between the two aisles the shop held. It wasn’t much, but the little trinkets and common potions that lined the shelves made Jaehyun proud of how far he had come. He could still picture the small store from when he was around the young boy's age. Laughter sounded through the store as the boy tried to escape his mother's hands. "Have a good day!" Jaehyun watched the giggling pair walk out the front door. Turning to the backroom he sighed looking at the pot that sat there.

The weeks he had spent trying to develop a new love potion was wasted as he, once again, failed. Since before Valentines day, now nearly 2 weeks ago, he had been cooped up in that backroom, trying to find a better love concoction. You, while fully willing, were starting to become an annoyed test subject. Jaehyun couldn't help but get testy when you complained about the new love potion. If you were gonna tell him it wasn't good or right then maybe you could give some ideas on how to fix it. Maybe he just needs to find a new test subject. Jaehyun looked through the list of love potions and ingredients that he had already used. Too many, he scowled down at the pages and pages of notes he had made on each variety of potion he had made. 

"Hello," he heard the little bell connected to the front door ring and someone walked around the shop, obviously looking for him. 

Jaehyun sighed, rolled his shoulders back and tried to put on his best smile, "Hi, what can I help you with- Oh Taeyong. Hello." Jaehyun scanned the man in front of him. "The white looks good."

Taeyong reached up and ran a hand through his bright white hair, "Thanks. I love it and so did my date." He tapped his index fingers together as he walked back up to the counter full of the colored potions. "I wanted to try more." 

Jaehyun smiled as the man scanned the rows, "We've plenty to choose from." 

Taeyong narrowed his eyes, concentrating on different colors. He eyes flickered up and met Jaehyun's, "I can't decide. What do you think? What would look good?" 

"He looks great in pink," a hand wrapped around his bicep. "He knows it too, but not many can pull it off well. You might be able to," Jaehyun grinned at you. While you were right about pink being a difficult color to pull off, you knew more than that, the pink dye was the hardest one to make. Which is why when Jaehyun glanced down at the box, he saw only 2 pink vials while the others had at least 10. "What about red? Maybe a green?" 

Taeyong watched the two of you share another quick look. Clearing his throat slightly he looked down in the box again.  "Red and green," he nodded his head. "Yes, I think I'll try those. One of each, please." 

Jaehyun grabbed the two vials and placed them both in a leather patch that you held open, "Okay, 4 shillings." Taeyong placed the coins in Jaehyun's hand. "Have a good day!" 

"You too," Taeyong gave a half hearted wave. 

Jaehyun sighed as your arms wrapped fully around him, “What’s up?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at his face, your eyes fluted around looking for an answer. 

“I still can’t get this potion right,” he ran his hands up and down your arms. Jaehyun felt you press closer to you, your hands started running up and down his sides. “I want something different, something that shows who you are supposed to love, but how are you supposed to know that.”

“Soulmates.” Jaehyun startled as the voice rang through the shop. He turned to glare at the man who had made him jump, “Sorry.” Taeyong raised his hands. “I didn’t mean to intrude or overstay my welcome, but I can’t help but be fascinated by all of this. And also you can’t really-”

“It’s fine,” your arms dropped away from Jaehyun. You finger tapped your chin as you considered Taeyong words, “Soulmates… that may work, but, how could you put something like a soulmate indicator in a love potion.”

Jaehyun tapped his hands on the counter. Soulmates, while not nonexistent, hadn’t been thought about in decades. In fact, Jaehyun didn't know the first thing about finding soulmates or even if he believed in them. It’s not not very plausible, he can’t just give someone a potion and tell them that it will give them their soulmate. There's more to it than that. More to love and being in love then just having souls destined to be together, "I can't do that." He shakes his head at the two who had continued to excitedly discuss the topic. He watched as their faces morphed to disbelief and disappointment. 

Your hands came up to rest on your hips, "And why not." 

Jaehyun reached into the glass cabinet rearranging vials and avoiding eye contact, "There's no way I can reveal soulmates. Too many indicators and no defiant way to squeeze all of those into one potion. Soulmates and their indicators have been hidden for years and it's rare that people ever find or want to be with their soulmate. Besides, there are too many variables." 

"Too many variables," you gave a light scoff. 

"What if you didn't give them a way to instantly reveal their soulmate," Taeyong cut in. "What if, instead, you revealed soulmate indicators or made them stronger." 

"What do you mean," Jaehyun sighed. He knew they weren't going to give this up. The hope and excitement in their eyes made Jaehyun more hesitant to even consider creating this potion. 

Taeyong walked closer to the counter where Jaehyun and you stood. “Soulmates, they are predestined, we can’t control or decide who they are or how we get paired. Now, many of us don’t meet our soulmates, the bonds aren’t as strong and people can find people they truly love. What if you strengthen the bonds? Revealed them?” Taeyong lifted his hand wiggling his fingers. “Sometimes I think I feel a tug on my hand, especially when I am at home alone. I can’t help but wonder if, hope, it’s my soulmate.”

You watched him, an unfamiliar look in your eyes. Slowly you turned to Jaehyun and grabbed his right hand in both of yours, “Please Jaehyun, you can do this, we can do this. Help others find their soulmate, their perfect half.” Your eyes pleaded with him.

 It really wasn’t fair. You knew that he would do anything for you, and you used that against him. Jaehyun sighed, “Okay, I’ll try. If you think this will work I’m willing to work on it.” Jaehyun couldn’t help the small smile that graced his face as you gave him a hug cheering along with Taeyong. He watched as you danced around the room bidding goodbye as you ran back to work. Taeyong also raced out of the shop, saying something about a ruby and some fish. As he watched the door swing shut the smile dropped his face. He couldn’t help the dread that filled his stomach and the distinct feeling that this would not end well. 

~~

Jaehyun stirred the sweet smelling syrup again. This was his fifth attempt at this potion. By this point he was frustrated. Nothing was working, all he kept making were diluted love potions, potions that made eyes change colors when they saw their loved ones, and a potion that made your heart glow from inside your chest. Both you and Jaehyun had been disturbed by the last potion. He had spent two weeks trying to figure this out. Both Taeyong and you had been helping when and where you could. You would get herbs and plants of magical origins, guiding and helping with the new ones that Jaehyun hadn’t seen before. Whereas, Taeyong would stir the potions or gather, obscure, ingredients- fairy dust, dwarf warts, pegasus hoof shavings. While impressive, Jaehyun was too scared to ask Taeyong how he got all real, authentic these ingredients or knew about all of these ingredients. As far as Jaehyun knew, Taeyong wasn’t a magic user. Though he wouldn’t be surprised if he descended from fairies or mermaids. 

He sighed as the potion bubbled the mugwort he just dropped in hissed as it blended, “Make a potion, they said. It will help people, they said.” He pulled out another vial. He had it simply labeled “love”. A base potion that he used when creating all his love potions, but this wasn’t a love potion, not truly. People don’t fall in love because of it, they may not even be able to find love because of it. With that thought in mind he set the base potion down and pulled out a different potion. It’s more medicinal, healing than anything else. It was the first potion that you and Jaehyun had made together. A potion that could heal a bond. Chi bonds specifically. Maybe it would work. If he broke it down to its core parts and mixed it with the current love potion or maybe the one that made your heart glow just a few nights ago.

Jaehyun jumped from his seat racing around the room grabbing ingredients and writing down ratios and doses. The smell of linens and irises filled the room. Jaehyun could help but feel comfort from the two smells. It smelled like you. Like a warm day under the sun laying in the little meadow sitting on the outskirts of town. 

“It smells so good here,” Jaehyun looked up as you entered the room. You closed your eyes inhaling a deep breath. “Like just after it rains and…” you took another deep breath, “and roses.”

Jaehyun tilted his head. That was interesting. The scent was different to everyone. Maybe it was a comforting scent or the scent of your beloved. It may have worked this time. Jaehyun stirred the pot a few more times before turning off the heat, “I just need to let it cool now.” 

You walked closer to him peering down into the now pale yellow potion, “You think it worked this time?” 

Jaehyun wrapped an arm around your waist. He shrugged, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder, “Maybe. I tried something different this time. It may do the trick.”

You hummed as he swayed you both back and forth, “That’s good. I’m really glad that you decided to make this. Soulmates were intended to be together, to have each other and we’ve moved so far from that.” You reached up and played with his hair twirling it between your fingers a few times, “I know that it doesn’t really matter, but I’d like to know, to confirm what I know, you’re my soulmate.”

Jaehyun was so in love with you. So ready to spend the rest of his days with you. He took another deep breath, linens and irises, “My better half.” He kissed under your ear before moving to grab a ladle from beside the pot, “Would you like to ladle or hold the bottles.” You grabbed the ladle from him motioning to move closer to the pot. “Would you like to know what I used this time? What the heart of this potion?” He watched you nod your head urging him to continue, “Our first potion.” Your head shot up surprise lighting up every feature. Jaehyun laughed, “I still remember you rushing in here and demanding I help you. You had never had to make a medicinal potion for a chi before. I hadn’t either, but that didn’t stop us from trying. Maybe we were lucky, or maybe it was fate because that day I feel deeply and madly in love with you. You unlocked my ability to love.” 

You stood still. Face slack jawed but eyes full of love, “You’re such a dork.” Jaehyun couldn’t say anything before you were in his arms, lips on his, and arms wrapped around his shoulders. “I love you.” 

“I love you,” Jaehyun grinned at you, pulling further away from you. He looked over at the now empty pot. “Now, rock, paper, scissors for who has to drink the potion.” He held his hand up in a fist.

“Fine,” You rolled your eyes at him. “Rock, paper, scissors.” You sighed as he held up scissors motioning to cut through your paper. “Fine,” you picked up the small vial tilting it in a small cheers before drinking the liquid inside. 

Jaehyun waited, the air tense around the two of you. A bell rang, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. A small red string pulled at your previously bare pinkie, “Hey guys! What’s going on. It smells so good here, like fresh linen and Irises. Are you guys back he- oh.” The string led past Jaehyun and tugged tight where Taeyong stood, his hand lifted in surprise.

~~

Tag List: @qianinterprises @stayctday @infnteen

[manndo]

not today, but someday [oberyn martell x reader]

gif credit

pairing[s]: oberyn martell x female!reader

warning[s]: 18+ due to heavily implied sexual content (no actually smut), sexual references/situations, mentions of breeding (in reference to conceiving a child), swearing; talks of pregnancy & the inability to conceive; fluff; angst; oberyn being oberyn (is that a warning??); no mention of ellaria; possible inaccuracies about got (see notes)

word count: 5.4k (ummmm, whoops?)

prompt[s]: none.

summary: all you had ever wanted was a little one, a child to call your own. and yet, months later, you were still without child. still barren, and your dream of becoming a mother seemed to be slipping away. 

author’s notes: okay, so, let me start off saying this -- oberyn martell has taken over my life and i have spent much time yearning over him. and, in doing so, i got this idea one day because, as we know, oberyn had eight daughters. so, i thought, what if he had a s/o who could not seem to conceive? hence, this fic. but, i have never watched an episode of got in my life. i have seen his scenes (besides, you know, that scene because in my head, oberyn is alive and well and having all the berries and orgies he wants & i just can’t handle that much violence) and i have read some articles about the show, seen the gifs/posts on tumblr, and talked to people who have watched it in the past eight+ years. but that the extent of my knowledge of got. so, i apologize in advance for any inaccuracies that this fic holds. and i hope that my characterization of oberyn is good. also, no ellaria -- i just did not feel like she fit in this in anyway possible, and i did not want to force her into the story, so to speak. well, i think that is it! so, on with the show! all mistakes are my own. comments/reblogs/likes are much appreciated. thank you! ❤️

“I am sorry, m’lady.”

You did not know what else you were expecting. You knew, deep down, that nothing had changed. You did not need the maester to tell you that you were still without child — you knew. But, Oberyn had instead you call up on them, and you were too tired to argue. You also hoped you were wrong, and Gods did you want to be wrong. But, you were not.

You plastered on a polite smile for the maester. “It’s quite alright,” you said, your voice tight as you forced your emotions down. You weren’t going to shed any tears in front of the maester; you would never give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you cry, save for your husband. You nodded your head toward the door. “That’ll be all. Good day.” The maester bowed lowly before turning on their heel and exiting, the large wooden door shutting with a resounding, empty thud. 

The sound echoed in your head and heart; it seeped into your veins, and began to settle in your bones. The sound felt like a finality of sorts. An ending before anything could even begin.

A short, broken sob escaped your lips, and you quickly slapped your hand over your mouth to stop the sound from breaking free. However, it did not matter — the dam had broken, the heartache released. Another sob escaped, muffled by your palm as you squeezed your eyes closed, and laid down on your bed. Your body curling into itself as tears easily flowed down your cheeks, staining them. You felt as if your body was turning on you, tearing you apart at the seams as you shook violently with your cries.

For eight months now, the two of you had been actively trying for a babe, an heir for Oberyn. Not that he himself required an heir — he had eight beautiful daughters, his Sand Snakes, whom he loved dearly no matter their status. But, when the two of you had been wed over a year ago, there had been an unspoken expectation placed upon you both. Oberyn paid no mind, and told you to do the same, but that was easier said than done.

You had always wanted to be a mother, wanting to have babe upon babe running around, mucking up your home and tugging at your skirts. To watch them grow and prosper, becoming handsome young lads and beautiful young ladies, all whom would be intelligent and strong, but caring and kind. To have your legacy, no matter how small or large it would be, live on thorough them. Perhaps there was a small sense of duty, as a woman, that made you yearn to have children. But, you knew that was not the whole picture. Children were beautiful, wonderful, and loving. They were gifts, and you want to have those gifts, to cherish and love them till you were dead and buried. You wanted it, with all your heart, and yet, it seemed like fate was delivering you a cruel hand.

There had been, one fleeting moment in the very beginning of your wedded bliss, where you were positively sure you were with child. You had been so sure, so eager to see the maester; however, you had quickly been proven wrong by your own body betraying you. You’d spent the day in your chambers, unwilling to leave for any reason. Oberyn had found you curled deep in your silken sheets that evening, and try as he might with his quiet, reassuring words, he was unable to pull you from your depressive state. So, he had held you — silently, but tightly, pressing soft kisses across your shoulders, your neck, your jaw. He let his fingertips brush against your skin, tracing nonsensical patterns across your hips, your stomach, your chest, anywhere he could reach. His touches were light, and his movements were sluggish. He comforted you silently, the best way he knew how, and you allowed him to do so. It hadn’t eased the pain completely, but it had been enough.

But, slowly, the days had turned to weeks, and the weeks turned into months, and nothing changed. It did not matter that the two of you had stopped bringing others into your bed to focus solely on each other, for Oberyn to focus solely on you. Nor, did it matter how many times he filled you with his seed, or how willing and open you were to taking what he offered. It did not matter day, afternoon, or night. Nothing mattered. Because here you were, still without child. Barren.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed as the tears flowed and the sobs continued to wrack your body as you laid curled in your marriage bed. Your hand maiden had knocked on the door at one point, but you had been quick to dismiss her before she could enter and find you in your current state. She had not come back and you were grateful. 

But then, finally, everything came to a standstill; the tears you had been crying seemed to dry up, and your body had stopped trembling. You took a deep, shuddering breath and unfurled yourself, allowing your limbs to stretch out across the sheets. The tears were still clinging to the corners of your eyes, but most of them had already dried and stained your cheeks and neck. You pushed yourself to sit on the side of your bed, and roughly wiped away at your face, brushing away the outward sings of your heartache. You silently wished you could easily wipe away the heartache in your chest, too. The one that had buried itself so deeply in there. 

You hadn’t even noticed the door to your chambers opening, didn’t even hear a voice calling out to you. It was only when the door shut — that hollow, empty thud — that you were brought back, your head whipping toward the sound. “Oberyn,” you said, your voice soft, a breathless whisper. He wasn’t supposed to be here; from what you recalled, he was supposed to be kept busy with mundane princely duties (his words, not yours). You weren’t supposed to see him till this evening — and from the way the sun was peeking through the curtains, it could only be mid afternoon — which would have given you plenty of time to steel yourself. To gather yourself together, lock your heartache and pain away before delivering the news. To pretend that it didn’t cut into your soul, didn’t rip you apart from the inside out. “What are you—”

“I had a free moment,” he said, making his way toward you, his golden robes flowing effortless around him. There was a smile playing at his lips, which told you that he actually did not have a moment — he made a moment to come and see you. 

You felt the heartache clawing at your throat, fighting to be released.

Quickly, you pushed yourself to stand, and turned away from him in a futile attempt to hide your face. He would come closer; he would see your pain, your sorrow. Because, though you had wiped away the tears and the stains they had left behind on your cheeks, your eyes were still red and puffy. The pain and heartache still lingering behind your eyes.

God, you had hoped to have more time, more time before you had to tell him. Before you had to watch the sadness and disappointment appear, filling his rich, beautiful brown eyes. You wanted more time. 

A pragmatic pause. “Love,” he said, his voice sounding strained, painful. Your actions had spoken louder than words, it seemed.

You could feel a fresh set of tears springing to your eyes, your hand grasping at the dress clinging loosely to your side. You fisted the fabric tightly and closed your eyes, willing yours tears to stay put, to not fall. You heard Oberyn call out for you again, this time your birth name falling from his lips just before you felt him come closer. He hadn’t touched you, not yet, but you could feel his presence only mere inches behind you. 

“Love,” Oberyn whispered once more, this time as you felt his hand wrap gently around the fist at your side, the other coming to wrap around your waist. “I am—”

“Don’t,” you breathed out, the word sounding more like a broken sob than anything coherent. You broke away from Oberyn, and thankfully, he let you go. “I cannot bare another I am sorry, especially from you, husband,” you said, your voice harsher than you had intended, angrier. Not at him, no, you could never be angry with Oberyn. No, you were angry at yourself. This was your fault; you were defective, broken, unable to provide him and yourself with the one thing you had so desperately wished for. “I have heard enough apologies to last me a lifetime.”

You felt his fingertips brush gently against your arm, the lightest of touches, barely there. A soft gesture to tell you he was there, and that he would not leave. You took a shaky breath, and loosened the grip on the fabric in your hand, letting the dress fall back against you. “There is no rush, my love,” he said, his voice soft and tentative, as if he knew he was treading rough water. And, he was.

A choked chuckle escaped your lips, and you turned to face your husband. “For you, perhaps,” you said, letting your eyes take in his appearance. He looked as handsome as ever, but he was growing older, as was the consequences of living. Over time, more grey had appeared in his hair and his beard, and a few more lines and wrinkles adorned his regal face. Even his stomach had gone a little soft (not enough for anyone besides you to notice). But, he was still the man you had met many moons ago. Still the Red Viper. Sill the man could make any woman or man fall to their knees and beg for his cock. “You, my stallion, can breed until you’re dead. The same cannot be said for myself.”

“I do not think I would call myself a stallion, my dove. Not anymore.”

You snorted, and turned away from him, letting your eyes look down at your marriage bed. You ran a hand across the silk sheets. “With the way we’ve been fucking these past few months, I’d disagree.”

You heard an amused chuckle escape his lips. “I may be able to still mount you like a stallion, but perhaps, I can no longer bred you like one.”

You looked over your shoulder at Oberyn, and raised your eyebrow. “Don’t tell me the father of eight daughters doubts his ability to breed?”

His shoulders gave a small shrug before he reached out to you, wrapping his callused hand around your wrist. Oberyn brushed the rough pad of his thumb over your pulse point. “I am not in my prime anymore, my dove. Perhaps, the fault does not lie on you.”

You looked away from him and back toward your marriage bed. You felt him take a step closer before you felt the press of his lips against your shoulder in the briefest of kisses. The hand holding your wrist slide down, his fingers intertwining with yours. “You’re taking pity on me, husband,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I would never,” he said, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. He pressed another kiss to your shoulder before his chin came to rest there, his beard tickling your skin ever so slightly. “I am merely stating a possibility,” he mumbled, the hand holding yours moving, arm shifting to wrap around your waist, hands still tangled with one another. “A truth, perhaps.”

You scoffed. “You cannot be serious, my prince.”

Oberyn hummed, and placed a soft kiss on your neck. “I am,” he mumbled into your skin. “I could deny reality, if I wished, but denying the inevitable does not change the outcome.”

“So,” you swallowed and looked down at your tangled hands that were resting on your stomach. You took a deep breath. “You do not think of me as a failure?”

Before you could blink, Oberyn had spun you around to face him. His rich, dark eyes were narrowed, but there was no anger behind his eyes. “You are not a failure, my love,” he said, his voice filled conviction. He reached out, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Please, do not think of yourself as one.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “There are not many things women are afforded in this life, Oberyn. Many of us are not giving the promise of kingdoms, riches or lands when we are but babes,” you stated, your voice hard, irritation lacing your words. “But this, the gift to bare children, we are born with that. That is ours,” you said, your voice softening as your throat tightened and tears welled at the corner of your eyes. You closed your eyes, and feel another swipe of his callused thumb across your cheek. “I know I am worth more than my anatomy. I know that my anatomy does not define me. That this, this failure,” you said, your voice catching in your throat, “this inability to conceive, does not define me.” You swallowed, and opened your eyes, looking into Oberyn’s deep, chocolate orbs. “I know these things, Oberyn. I know them. But, it cuts me deeply, so deeply that I feel as if I am bleeding out with no way to close the wound.”

“My dove,” he said softly, his other hand coming to rest on your other cheek. He held your face gently between his hands, his features soften, and you could see a pain in his decadent eyes. A pain that was reflected in your own. “Your pain is my pain, know that. And know, there is nothing I would not give up in this world in order to give you the gift of a child,” he said, and you could tell that he meant what he said. He wanted this as much as you did, you both wished for this, silently prayed for this. And yet, barren. 

You watched as he removed one of his hands from your cheek, sliding it down your neck, shoulder, down the middle of your chest, between your breasts and coming to rest on your stomach. Oberyn looked down at his hand, as did you, and spread his fingers across your stomach. “What I wouldn’t give to see you swell with our babe,” he said, and if you listened close enough, you could hear the slight hitch in his breath. You placed your hand over his on your stomach, fingers resting between his. “To see them suckle at your breast, to tug at your skirts, to wreak havoc in the halls.” He gazed back to you, and you felt a lump forming in your throat, a fresh set of tears prickling at the back of your eyes. “The sound of their cries and laughter filling the rooms. To see them as they grow and blossom.” He paused, and you could see he was choosing his words carefully. You felt a knot grow in your stomach. “But, I am starting to think—”

“Please, Oberyn,” you interrupted, your voice cracking as you closed your eyes, your fingers tightening their grip on his. “Do not say—”

“We need to take a step back, my love.”

Your eyes snapped opened. That was not exactly what you expected. You had expected him to say that you two should give up, forget the notion of ever having your own babe. Perhaps, he would even suggest an orphan child; you were not opposed to the idea, you loved children and would gladly be a mother to a child in need of one. But, you were not ready to give up the idea of having your own yet. 

“A step back?” you asked, your eyes filled with confusion as you released your grasp on his hand. You were not entirely sure where your husband was going with this statement. You could not imagine that he was implying to stop fucking. Though Oberyn had aged, he still enjoyed the pleasures of sex (as did you) and the idea that he would give that up? Preposterous. “Are you suggesting we stop fucking, dear husband?”

Oberyn looked aghast at your suggestion, and it made the corner of your mouth tick up. “What a ridiculous notion, dear wife,” he said, mimicking your words back to you, his voice sounding almost betrayed that you would think such a thing. Even suggest such a thing. “Besides,” he started, voice dropping an octave in tone and pitch as he moved both hands, the one on your stomach and the one on your cheek, to come and rest on your hips once more. Oberyn’s callused fingers dipped into your hipbone and held tightly, almost too tightly. It barely phased you. “The idea that I could keep my hands, mouth and cock to myself around you is absurd,” he muttered, a wicked grin spread across his face, his dark eyes flashing with lust. It lasted only a moment before the smirk fell, and a serious look appeared upon his face. “However, if you wish to cease—”

You shook your head. “No, no,” you muttered. “I could not do that to you.”

“My love—”

“I’ve already asked too much of you by ceasing our activities with others.”

“Which,” he started softly, “I had no issue forgoing for you, my dove.” He paused and removed on have from your hip. He placed a finger under your chin and pushed up, lifting your head to make sure that your eyes caught his rich, dark orbs. “You have my body, my heart, and my soul. I love you. Whatever you need, I will comply.”

Your heart swelled in your chest. Oberyn partook in every pleasure imaginable, had never denied himself and tried almost every sexual act under the sun. And yet, here he was, willing to forgo sex for you. You knew he loved you, but this? This proved how far he would go for you, the lengths he would go to make sure you were well, that you were content. Whatever you needed, it seemed, he would gladly give it to you. 

“No, Oberyn,” you started and he opened his mouth once more, but you stopped him as you placed a hand on his cheek. “I am — I have no problem continuing our sexual activities.”  

You watched as Oberyn studied you, his dark eyes scanning your face for any sign that you might be hiding the truth from him. After a moment, he seemed content with what he found. He nodded and removed his finger from your chin. “Then, that is settled. But, I think, my dove we may have put too much pressure on ourselves,” he murmured, turning his head into your palm, and pressing a soft kiss to the center of it. “Not that our lovemaking is not pleasurable, it most certainly is, always,” Oberyn said, turning his gaze back to you, slipping on another mischievous smirk his let his free hand come to rest just below your breast. “But, perhaps, we’ve forgotten what it is like to be us,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your neck as you let your hand fall from his cheek and back to your side. “Without pressures.” Another kiss, lips moving down. “Without worries.” And, another, lower. “Only us.” His final kiss landed on your shoulder. “Return to an earlier time, when we had first laid eyes upon each other. Do you remember those days, my love?”

You nodded. You remembered those days vividly; the hours spent walking through the water gardens, talking about everything and nothing. The nights spent together, tangled in each other, exploring each other with hands, lips and teeth. Back then, all you had wanted to do was learn about the man you shared your bed — and soon, your life — with, and he had wanted the same. Oberyn still attended to his duties, as required, but every moment when he was not busy, he was with you and you were with him. 

Then, when you had married, more of your time had become consumed with your own requirements and duties as well as his own. Much of your time together was spent was in the evenings, in your bed in hopes of conceiving a child. 

“Perhaps, my love,” Oberyn started again, “we need to allow ourselves to enjoy each others company, get lost in each other.” A brief pause. “In and out of our bed.” You caught Oberyn’s dark orbs, and him yours. The hand on your ribs was removed, and placed instead upon your cheek. You leaned into his touch. “What do you say, my dove? We do not forgo our dream of one day having a babe of our own. We just,” he paused, for a moment, a thoughtful look in his eye, “allow ourselves not to be pressured or burdened by the notion? Return to simpler times, so to speak?” 

You let your husband’s suggestion mull in your head for a moment. Perhaps, he was right; perhaps the two of you had been too focused on conceiving a child that you had, unintentionally, made sex a burden. Oberyn was not wrong; your times with him were always pleasurable and the two of you never fucked if either of you was in no mood to engage in sex. But when you did, perhaps, the burden was there, always lingering in the back of your mind. That the burden had become an unknown weight upon you, upon Oberyn. It would be nice to silence that burden for a while. 

“My love?”

You blinked and focused your gaze back on Oberyn. His deep brown eyes were studying you, patiently waiting for your response. You smiled softly at him. “You are right, my prince,” you agreed, and you watched as a triumphant look filled his eyes, the corner of his lip ticking up. You narrowed your gaze slightly. “Watch that ego of yours, husband.” Oberyn chuckled lowly and moved to grasp your hips. He pulled you tight against him, a wicked smile on his face.

“Or what, dove? Hm?”

“Or,” you started, lifting arms and wrapping the loosing around his neck and shoulders, “it will get you killed one day.”

Oberyn raised an eyebrow. “Will it now? By whom?”

You held your chin up. “Me.” Oberyn laughed, the sound filling your shared chambers, and now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “You doubt me, my prince?”

“I do not doubt, your strength, my love,” he said through the laughter, which slowly began to die down as the milliseconds passed. “Or your cunning wit. However, I do know that you love me too much to even harm a hair on my head.” He paused and titled his head. “Well, unless in the throes of passion, of course,” he added, another mischievous grin pulling at his lips. “Then well?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “It cannot be helped.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, but you knew the smile pulling at your lips betrayed you. “Whatever you say, my prince,” you muttered.

Oberyn hummed thoughtfully. You had thought to say something else, but before you could even open your mouth to speak, Oberyn’s lips were on yours, his tongue licking at the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. And, you willing granted him entry. His tongue slid harshly against yours, warm, wet and unyielding. A small moan escaped your lips as your arms tightened around his neck, fingers tangling into the curls at the nap of his neck. You used your hold to pull yourself even closer to him, pressing your chest against his as you slipped your thigh between his legs, pressing it against his swelling cock. A low growl escaped his throat, one that was eagerly swallowed by your lips as his grip on your hips tightened.

There was a loud knock at your chamber door.

Oberyn barely pulled away, mumbling, “ignore it,” against your lips before sliding his lips against yours again. And, you had planned to, already lost in the taste of him. However, the moment his tongue had slipped back in to your moth, there was another knock. This time, much louder.

“M’lord?” It was one of the man servants. “Are you in there?”

Oberyn groaned and pulled his lips away from yours reluctantly. “Yes,” he responded, his voice stern, but somewhat out of breath. You smiled. “But.” One of his hands travelled from you hip, up to your side, coming to rest on your breast. He kneaded the flesh, and you let out a soft mewl, heading falling back, eyes closing. “I am very, very busy. So, if you’ll ex—”

“Your presence is requested, m’lord.”

Oberyn rolled his eyes. “By whom?” he asked, but he did not bother to move toward the door to let the servant in, only lowered his head to your neck. He gave the skin at the base of your neck a quick, hard nip. You let out a small yelp of surprise mixed with pleasure as you tugged on Oberyn’s dark locks once more.

You were sure the man servant now knew exactly why Oberyn was busy — or, more accurately, whom he was busy with.

“Your brother, m’lord,” he answered, his voice tight and proper.

Oberyn growled against your skin in irritation before he nipped the skin again, this time worrying the skin for a brief moment. “Oberyn,” you whined, the sound a little louder than a whisper. Another nip in the same area. You were sure you’d have a bruise within the hour. You straightened your neck and opened your eyes. “Oberyn,” you said again, trying to quell the ever growing arousal pooling between your legs. However, his name sounded too breathless and needy on your lips. You glanced down at him the best you could, and saw his dark orbs shining with lust. Oberyn gave a sly smirk.

“M’lord?”

You knew he didn’t want to go, that he would rather lose himself in your body and pleasure. However, you knew that if he did not go now, it would only mean more time away from each other later.

“M’lord? He wishes to speak with you as soon as possible. If you could please open this door, and—”

“Go,” you whispered, ignoring the man servant’s plea, scratching at the back of Oberyn’s neck and giving him a soft smile. “The sooner you meet with him, the sooner you are back in our bed.”

Oberyn raised his head, his eyes watching you closely. The hand resting on your breast slide up and over your shoulder. His callused fingers began to play with the strap on your gown. “And you will be waiting for me?”

“Of course,” you answered, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Unless, you’d like to visit the brothel tonight?” Oberyn raised an eyebrow. “It’s been a while, my prince, and that is my fault. I know I asked you, and you willingly followed my request. But, I do not wish to hold you back anymore. If you would like to share a bed again, I am more than willing to share tonight.”

Oberyn leaned forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, but before it could go farther, he was pulling away. He grinned down at you. “Perhaps another night, my dove. Tonight, I plan to keep you.” The hand on your hip slide off and over, his hand cupping your clothed and aching center. A small whimper escaped your lips, and Oberyn’s own lips twisted into a wicked smile. “And, this pretty cunt all to myself tonight.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. His warm breath ghosted over the shell, making you shiver. “Make you come undone upon my tongue for hours,” he whispered, the word sending a fresh flood of arousal between your legs.

“Oberyn—” your voice sounded choked, hoarse, needy.

“Before I finally sink into that tight little cunt.” He pulled your earlobe between his teeth, and worried the skin. You groaned, eyes falling closed as you grasped at his upper arm for support. His teeth released your lobe. “And fuck you until the sun rises.”

You bite down on your lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape your throat. Oberyn pulled back, hand sliding from your aching center to your hip, and looked at you, that wicked grin still pulling at his lips. “Perhaps—”

“M’lord?” The man servant sounded terse, clearly annoyed that he was still standing outside the door. You glanced at Oberyn to see him roll his eyes, irritation clearly written on his face. “I am sorry, but, I believe—”

“Tell him I will be there in a moment,” Oberyn all but growled through the door at the man servant. You gently swatted at his chest, and gave him a look that silently told him to be nice. Oberyn sighed. “If you would be so kind,” he added, his voice much less demanding as he glanced over his shoulder toward the door.

“Um, I would,” the man started, “but he — he requested that I personally accompany you, Prince Oberyn.”

Oberyn rolled his eyes once more. “Of course he did,” he muttered.

You bite your lip once more, this time trying to stifle a giggle that threatened to erupt. However, it escaped — a meager sound, but a giggle nonetheless. “He knows you all too well, my prince.”

“That he does,” he muttered, and let out another heavy sigh before turning his head and attention back on you. “You’ll be fine, my dove?”

And, you knew what he was asking. He was not just asking if you would be fine while he was away, or if you would be fine for the rest of the day. No, he was asking that and more, much more. Oberyn was asking if you’d be fine from here on out with what you two had agreed upon. Would you really and truly be fine with forgoing your want for a babe? Forgoing the need you had created to conceive a child for the foreseeable future. Were you, for now, fine with only having him in your life? No children, only him, only your prince. Only your husband. Only Oberyn. 

You smiled sweetly, and reached out, placing a hand upon his cheek. “Yes, my love. As long as you promise to stay by my side until one of us takes our dying breath.”

Oberyn smiled, his dark orbs shining brightly with love and adoration for you. He reached out and covered your hand on his cheek with his, squeezing your fingers gently. “Promise.”

You nodded. “Now,” you started, letting your hand slide from his cheek, his fingers still grasping at yours, “go on. Before your brother comes and hunts you down himself.”

Oberyn scoffed, and looked toward the door. “That’ll be the day,” he muttered, and you chuckled softly, shaking your head.

“Go,” you said, voice a little stern as you gently pushed at his shoulder in an attempt to move him toward the door.

Oberyn laughed softly and untangled his fingers from yours. “Fine, my dove, I am going,” he muttered, leaning down to press a soft, quick kiss to your lips. “I will see you in a few hours.” Oberyn took a step back from you, his eyes never leaving yours. He grinned and took another step back. “Make sure you’re ready for me.”

You smirked. “Do not worry about me, my prince. I will be,” you said and he grinned, all teeth and wicked before turning on his heel, and leaving your shared chambers.

The door shut behind him with a resounding thud, but this time, it did not cause you heartache. There was no finality or dread that sank into your bones. It was just the sound of a door opening and closing, as they always do.

Perhaps, you had closed the door on your dreams of having little ones. But, it wasn’t locked; you could open that door once more, when the time was right. Or, perhaps, you’d find another door, another way. However, right now, you would enjoy the idea of a closed door.

taglist (for pedro characters):

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[fa-headhoncho]

Unlike The Rest: Part 1

George Weasley x Reader (eventually)

Prompt:  The last few years have already been rough for you. Trying to make a new name for yourself while everyone still believes you like the rest of your family. But, this year is much worse since your little brother is starting his first year at Hogwarts.

Word Count: 2069

Reader: Female

Warning: My first time writing for HP in a LONG time, so I’m sorry in advance for any Americanized things and inaccuracy. I’m rusty, okay? Some people might be a bit out of character like the mother but I think she’s proven to have a bit of a different side of her that we don’t see.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

======

You run into the wall and everything just overwhelms you. The smoke of the train clouding the air, the chatter of new and old students filling your ears, and the sense of relief. The long summer months have finally come to this. Back at Hogwarts, the escape from your dreadful life.

A large smile appears on your features, seeing familiar faces whether they be in a scowl or a smile. You loved it here. Your home away from home… This place has given a new light into your life that you needed. Sure, you were a bit of a prat your first year but you seemed to turn it around your second year once you realized how much of an arsehole you were actually being.

Then something suddenly hits you in the back, snapping you out of your daze.

“Move it, tosser.” Your little brother sneers, your parents following behind them.

“Shove it, Draco.” You spit back, just glad he didn’t knock over your trolley full of stuff. “Next time you do that, I’ll make sure to tell the whole school you still sleep with your blankie. That will be sure to make a good first impression.”

The platinum blondes mouth opens slightly, a worried expression on his face. “Father!” He whines, turning to the looming figure standing behind him.

“(Y/N),” He sighs, “don’t threaten your brother.”

You just roll your eyes and straighten out your trolley, reaching over and giving your cat a calming pet. Dazing off once again, you look around the platform. You see Angelina Johnson, a Gryffindor in your year, and give her a friendly smile. She looks a bit taken aback at the fact that you were even tempting to interact with her. She just laughs and turns to her group of friends and starts giggling at you.

Well, at least you thought you made some new friends last year.

Your father and Draco continue to walk, trying to find a better spot than in front of the entrance of the platform. You slowly follow after them, wanting to not be left behind.

“...I’m sure you’ll get into Slytherin, Draco.” Father continues to press on. “Unlike your sister, you won’t disappoint us.” He takes a side glance at you but you pretend to not hear him, “Will you?”

“Of course not father.” He obliges as he always does. 

Draco has always been Daddy’s little pet but it got worse since you were sorted into your house, Hufflepuff, in. The house of kindness, loyalty, and diligence-- the house known for producing the least amount of dark wizards. At first, you were also mad and disappointed in this. Ultimately becoming a complete brat your first year to anyone and everyone to try to make up for it but the Sorting Hat’s words seem to echo in your head since then;

“I see good things to come from you, a Malfoy unlike the rest.”

And those words are what keeps you going in a household like yours. 

“Muggle studies, really, (Y/N).” Mother exclaims in disgust, reading your schedule for the new year. “Out of all the electives, you picked muggle studies?”

You think quickly, muggles and their culture have always seemed to interest you. Your father has talked bad about them and how they are inferior to the wizarding community but they seem to just have an intriguing lifestyle. 

“It must be a mistake!” You fret, grabbing the scroll from her hands and rereading it over. It definitely was not a mistake but you had to fake it. “I must have accidentally not sign up for another elective,” Frowning, you roll up your schedule and put it into your back pocket. “I think I was too focused on getting into Care of Magical Creatures…”

Father just rolls his eyes and leans his weight onto his long black cane. You never knew why he needed that cane but you never dared to ask, you know he keeps his wand in the handle but the whole cane wasn’t really necessary. He has always been into the theatrics. 

“I’ll be sure to have that changed.” He promises. “I don’t want you turning up like the muggle-loving Weasle father.” He sneers, his eyes falling to the entrance, seeing the first of the children of said family run through it. “A disgrace they are to the wizarding world.”

“Weasley…” You mumble under your breath, correcting him. Draco catches this and his eyebrows perk up, excited to get you in trouble once more.

“What did you sa--”

“Merlin,” Your father gasps, “Harry Potter…” He sees the famous boy run through with the youngest Weasley boy.

“Is it really?” Mother gasps, eyes snapping over to inspect as well.

Everyone knows who Harry Potter is, especially people like your parents. He’s a legend in wizarding history and it’s been long-awaited for him to come to Hogwarts.

“Draco, you need to make friends with him.” Your father says in a monotone voice, eyes never leaving the boy who lived. “Make sure he knows what families to associate with.” He turns back to his son.

“Of course, Father.” He gleams, excited at the opportunity to make his father proud.

Suddenly, a herd of students starts making their way to the train. Some more frantic than others. You smile. It’s finally time.

“You should be going now,” Your mother solemnly announces, sad to see her last child going off to Hogwarts. “You guys are growing up so fast,” She sighs cupping Draco’s face, father just rolls his eyes at her sentiments.

Draco just returns the smile and pulls her hand off of his cheek. He turns around, going to double-check all his stuff and continue to talk to your father about Harry Potter and the Weasley’s. 

She then turns to you, lowering her voice into a whisper. “Make sure you keep an eye on him, (Y/N).” She requests, a worried expression on his face. “I’m afraid that his mouth will get him into a lot of trouble.”

“Wouldn’t be a Malfoy without it, Mum.” You try to crack a joke with her. Out of everyone in your family, your mother seems to be the least cruel and most understanding. Not that she certainly agrees with you, but you are her daughter and she loves you. “I’ll try.” You give her a tight-lipped smile, giving her hand a squeeze. She returns the smile and sends you on your way.

=====

“... I can’t believe he decided to sit that embarrassment Weasle-B.” Draco scoffs, already chatting shit with his friends Crabbe and Goyle.

You’ve always hated these kids, their parents are friends with yours and they’ve always seemed to cause trouble together. Your mother thinks they just have crushes on you but you rather not think of that.

“Crabbe, are you even listening?” He proclaimed, noticing the stout child's open mouth and gazed over expression. You look up from your copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them to meet his gaze. You shift uncomfortably.

Crabbe snaps his eyes back to Draco and nods so vigorous that you’re sure he just scrambled whatever brains he had left in there.

“I’m going to go change into my robes.” You announce, needing to get away from these idiots as soon as possible. Belladonna, your white tabby, jumps off of your lap as you stand. “You three should too, we are getting close to the castle.”

You reach up and grab your yellow and black robes from the compartment above the bench you and Draco were sitting in. The other two boys do the same, grabbing their plain uniforms. Draco just sits there and shakes his head at you.

“I still can’t believe you’re in Hufflepuff.” He shakes his head.

“I still can’t believe you’re a prat.” You snap back, sending him a stern look. “The school year hasn’t even started and you already are pissing me off, Draco.” He hides his frown as you put your things under your arm and storm out of the cabin.

=====

The dirt path is surrounded by trees, the first years just left with Hagrid on their traditional boat ride to show the kids the castle. You remember getting so excited, seeing the lights and the bridge sparked something in you that year.

Last year and this year are the same, you get to ride carriages across the bridge into the castle. Less grand, but still riveting none the less… Well, it should be but it just seems like a popularity contest. Seeing everyone group together to make sure they’re with their friends makes you nervous.

After first year, you made a bit of a bad name for yourself. Wanting to live up to the Malfoy name, since your sorting didn’t, you decided to act a bit out. Doing what you knew your parents would want, bullying the people in your year about their blood status and even their financial status. You really did regret it by the end of that year, no one wanted to be your friend nor did they even want to interact with you. The Slytherin wouldn’t either, they thought you were a disgrace as much as your parents did.

That led you to getting into some trouble. Which led you to detentions with Filch and even Hagrid when he was busy. Your heart changed when one of the said detentions met you with helping Hagrid care for the Bowtruckles that he kept on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Your love for the creatures sparked something and Hagrid had a chat with you. You realized what you did was wrong and wanted to change it. After that, you resorted to being quiet and just keeping your mouth shut… Well, as much as you could. 

Last year, you even dared to start making friends. Starting with your teammates on the Quidditch team. No one ever seemed to stick, though. But, people did start becoming nicer to you once they could tell the change of heart… It always seemed hard to keep friends once they heard your last name. All but one person cared about your last name and you are very grateful for him.

So this leaves you here, waiting till the last carriage or till someone invited you to come with them. You glance around, looking for that said one friend you made last year but everyone looks the same in their robes.

Your search is interrupted by rather large body knocking into you, sending your book flying onto the muddy ground. You frown once more, looking at your now ruined book on the ground. You turn to see what giant had bumped into you. Meeting a brown pair of eyes, you knew exactly who it was.

“Weasley.” You sigh, staring at the tall red head. “You’ve ruined my book!” You cry as he bends down to pick it up for you. He tries to open it but the mud keeps it sucked shut.

“I’m sor--”

“Daddy can buy you a new one.” The other one buds in, a scold grows on your face. No matter what your parents have said, you’ve always found the Weasley twins entertaining, to say the least. The three of you have your feud but it’s much more… playful than what others seem to think. They’ve always seemed to like riling you up, especially after first year. After the attitude check you had, you’ve realized it’s become a bit harmless and rather fun to argue with them.

“Which one are you, again?” You question, breaking the standoff. They both scoff, they loved playing that game with their mother but it just hits differently when others say it. You feel a bit bad and thought you went a bit too far, looking at the face of the one who initially bumped into, he looks a bit defeated at the fact that you can’t tell the difference.

“(Y/N)!” A familiar voice interrupts the silence. You turn and see your friend, Cedric, waving you over to him and his group. A large smile appears on your face. You wave back and turn back to face the twins.

“Always a pleasure, boys.” You chirp, your mood obviously changed. “I hope to see you in DADA this year.” The tall one then hands you back your book. “Thank you, George.” Grabbing it, you make sure to take a glance back at Fred, the smirk on your face matches his.

[twstlotus]

Hello! Could I get some hcs on how riddle, Jack, kalim, +who ever you’d like would react if their crush (gender neutral please) was just super casual about touches? Like they’re almost always touching our boys in some way if that makes sense lol! Thank you in advance!

hello, anon. a headcanon on how the three would react if their crush was all-around touchy with them, now? fufufu. i sincerely hope that what i’ve written here suffices! but once again, please point out to me if i make any character inaccuracies or if you have criticism! they’re greatly appreciated.

 i enjoyed writing this a lot, and i hope you enjoy reading it, too.

Riddle Rosehearts

Prior to developing a crush on you, Riddle would only jump slightly whenever you’d place a hand on his shoulder without him noticing, sometimes scolding you lightly for it. If you still had your hand on him afterwards, he may mention to you how he might enforce a rule (specifically for you) stating that no one may touch the dorm leader without his consent.

“(Y/N), I ask of you to keep your hands to yourself. Or else I’ll have to enforce a new rule I’ve been contemplating– ‘Rule 811, do not touch the dorm leader without his consent.’”

Despite his warnings, you merely give a sly smile at his words and continue to have your hand on his shoulder, maybe even both hands on his shoulders– or a hand at his back? Riddle can only sigh begrudgingly and repeat his warnings at your advances while you snicker at his discontent.

Yet even so– he begins to grow infatuated with you through your many activities and conversations being held between the two of you sometimes; such as painting the roses or tending to the hedgehogs with him, all of which are accompanied by your cheerful laughter. And before he realizes it, he had formed a crush on you.

Nowadays, when you do your usual shoulder-touch with him, a crimson red hue begins to color his cheeks as you happily greet him. He doesn’t declare his usual “Rule 811“ warning anymore though, and he seems to often stumble upon his words whenever speaking to you or if you’re in close proximity. Still, you think it’s just Riddle being Riddle and you don’t take notice of how much his face is burning up than usual, oblivious to how you make his heart race.

Jack Howl

Jack generally doesn’t mind any of your touches, though he may be somewhat surprised by them at times. He’s the most neutral out of the three boys, though he might feel a tad awkward or embarrassed about it when you wrap around his arm and smile innocently at him while doing so.

The two of you would sometimes draw stares from other onlookers while you chat in the hallways, still having your hand tightly secured around his arm. “Huh? Is Jack together with (Y/N)? I didn’t think they’d be his type...” some would say; “Awe, look how cute those two are! Wait...they’re not together?” many would question.

Having sharp ears, Jack could hear nearly most of the murmurs about the two of you, and when he does, his face flushes a deep red. Is that really what others thought of you? A couple? Sure, he thought that these sort of things weren’t as common between friends, but he thought it was just you being friendly. It wasn’t as if he’d grow a crush on you.

Oh, oh no. How horribly mistaken he was. You caught his heart in your hands! Well now, how wouldn’t you? After you showed him your kind heart and how willing you were to help others, how you didn’t assume much despite his seemingly cold and distant outlook, it was obvious that you warmed his heart.

Since then, whenever you wrap your hands around his arm as usual, a light blush begins to creep up his cheek– though rather discreet, it’s still there. His tail begins to wag slightly at your advances and his ears droop a bit. If you were to question it, he’d simply remain quiet and continue walking or proceed with whatever he was doing before, and you’d giggle lightly at his silence– yet unaware of how you’ve made this poor boy’s heartbeat quicken.

Kalim Al-Asim

The most accepting of your touches out of the three boys. He’s a touchy person too, so he doesn’t see the issue in you slinking an arm around his shoulder and him having an arm around yours as well. What’s wrong with that? It just means that it’s a sign of trust between two people!

If anything, Kalim would be the one to greet you with a high-five every morning before Jamil has to drag him away. Even so, not many people would think much of how touchy the two of you may be. Everyone’s already familiar with Kalim’s friendly and open nature and how touchy you can be with other people so they don’t pay much mind to it.

But still, it doesn’t take long for Kalim to begin falling for you. You’re such a cheerful and lively person, especially in his parties! He loves seeing you moving to the rhythm of the beat– or to the rhythm of your own heart– how carefree you are. It makes him happy to see you happy! But...what’s this feeling in his heart though? He doesn’t quite know this fluttering feeling in his heart,

He talks about how he feels about you to Jamil. Surely, he’d know what it was, right? He’s rather disappointed at the fact that he has to explain to Kalim about his own feelings, but he’s not exactly surprised. Kalim seems to be slightly in-denial about it though, but he’s not opposed to it either; nevertheless, his feelings for you still makes his heartbeat quicken.

Even after he begins to develop a crush on you, not much changes, really. He’s still the touchy Kalim as he was before, albeit his touchiness increasing; his morning high-fives turn to hugs, and the arms that’d wrap around your shoulders would occasionally switch down to slinking an arm around your waist instead, all the while he flashes you his usual bright smile; and when you smile back, his heart begins to race. Is he truly just friends with you?

[leejungchans]

— our first snow.

word count: 2.2k

pairing: dino (svt) x idol!oc (juliet)

warning(s): mentions of cyberbullying, allusions to stalking (dispatch yucky), mentions of the toxic/dark side of the kpop industry

genre: mostly fluff; slight angst (about idol life); crushes-to-lovers; idol au

notes: can be read as a standalone but you can refer to juliet’s masterlist for more info on her!! there may be some weather inaccuracies in this ahskhwjs please don’t be mad 😭 i live somewhere that never snows :(

summary: a confession is made during the first snowfall of 2021.

a/n: thank you to the anon who suggested a cute dino/juliet scenario 🥺💖 i hope you like this!!! thank you all for reading and have a nice day!!

Winter in Seoul is beautiful.

Even though she’s been living in Korea for six, almost seven years, Juliet thinks she can never get tired of seeing snow. Something about it is just so utterly magical and charming, like being in a Christmas card. Sure, it’s freezing and the snow sticks to everything—her hair, parka, boots, even her lashes, but it’s still one of her favourite things about living in Seoul as it’s something she wouldn’t be able to experience back home in Sydney.

Juliet still remembers the first time she saw snow the year she moved to Korea and how transfixed she had been. Upon learning about this, Yeri, the first friend she made at her former company, immediately dragged her out to the sidewalk where snow elegantly floated down from the sky and would eventually envelop Seoul in a pristine white blanket.

Though, she supposes that at the moment, they’re experiencing more of a snowstorm than a snowfall. By the time she gets back to the dorm, her black parka will probably turn white from all the snow sticking to it. She wonders what her members are doing, if they’re also enjoying the snow or staying inside to shield themselves from the biting cold.

A particularly strong gust of wind blows the hood of Juliet’s parka off her head, causing snow to immediately start landing on her newly-dyed purple hair. A gloved hand instantly reaches up to tug the hood snuggly back into place.

The female idol turns to her companion and smiles, even though he can only see her eyes due to the both of them wearing black masks, but she hopes he notices her eye-smile anyways. “Thanks, Channie.”

Juliet watches Chan’s eyes curve into crescents, and she knows he’s also grinning behind his mask. They’re always so sparkly, she thinks, like they hold the entire universe in them.

“C’mon,” he says softly, “the snow’s getting heavier, better get you home before we’re both stranded out here.” Juliet doesn’t tell him, but she wouldn’t exactly complain even if they do get stranded as along as she’s with him.

Here being a mostly empty street with only the dim lights from the street lamps and the occasional passerby to keep them company. The passerby’s don’t pay them any attention either as they walk briskly in an attempt to get out of the snowstorm as quickly as possible. They did pass a few small groups of people who came outside to enjoy the first snow of the year, but those people too occupied with making snowmen and taking photos to notice that they had crossed paths with two idols.

Despite the late hour, Juliet doesn’t want to go home. At least, not yet. She knows she should be back by now, a few award shows are scheduled for the end of the month, not to mention ATEEZ’s upcoming projects and appearances, so she needs all the sleep she can get to keep up with the practising. Chan definitely also needs the rest, yet he insists on walking her back to her dorm after their late night out before going back to his.

Juliet knows they’re both physically exhausted from their hectic lifestyles, but it is the unspoken knowledge that this is the only time of the day they have for themselves, truly just themselves, that make them want to stay out longer to retain a sense of normalcy. Over the years, she’s learnt to cherish the short-lived moments away from the cameras and prying eyes.

It’s knowing this that causes her to deliberately slow down her walking pace, because she wants just a little more time where she is simply Baek Minyoung instead of Juliet from ATEEZ, spending time with her friend Lee Chan and not Dino from SEVENTEEN.

Juliet has always believed that she is someone who warms up to people slowly with the exception of her members. But then Chan came into her life and effortlessly wove himself into the seams of her heart in a blink of an eye.

She thought they’d just be friends, she really did, until she found herself falling for the energetic boy with a heart of gold after a few secret outings much like this one. Before either of them knew it, their friendship had morphed into something more, though neither dared to make a move. After all, they know how fragile idol relationships can be in their industry—interfering companies, invasions of privacy, the slew of hateful comments that every idol couple cannot escape...

There were many nights where Juliet stayed up late thinking if it was easier to stay friends than to take the next step. Idol friendships, even opposite-sex ones, typically last longer and are met with less scrutiny, after all.

In those times, she also found herself wondering what her life would’ve been if she never came to Seoul and became an idol. She never thought that at one point in her life, getting a coffee or grabbing lunch with friends without having people shove their phones in your face would be a luxury, but here she is.

But if she never came to Seoul, she never would’ve met her members, the kind staff members who treat her like a younger sister or daughter, the amazing friends she met along the journey of becoming an idol...

She also wouldn’t have met Chan, so there’s that.

She once asked him during a phone call last year how he and his members cope with all the downsides that come with being an idol.

“It’s a learning process every day, I think,” he says thoughtfully. “But in general, I try to tell myself that even though bad things happen, there’s still a lot of good that outweighs the bad...I get to meet amazing people and do what I love for a living...These things are what I will cherish forever, the bad things won’t last forever, and it doesn’t do me any good to lose myself in them instead of the good.”

Juliet thinks about that a lot. Not that he has to know, or he’ll never let her live it down.

“—say about the first snow?”

Chan turns to face her with confusion written across his face from a lack of response. She blinks blankly at him. “What?”

He shoots her a look of mock exasperation. “Were you seriously not listening to anything I was saying?” he whines.

“Sorry, I spaced out!”

“I’m not going to be friends with you if you keep ignoring me like this!”

Before the boy has time to react, Juliet grabs a handful of snow from the ground and launches it at his face. He splutters for a moment, brushing off the flakes from his mask as she cackles, but her glee doesn’t last long when he reaches for a larger handful of snow.

Juliet shrieks and jogs away from Chan, which isn’t as easy as she thought given that her feet keep sinking into the layer of snow. “Wait, wait! Stop! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“You have to keep it down,” he laughs, gently tossing the snow back onto the ground, “we can’t be out here screaming and drawing Dispatch’s attention.” His tone is light and teasing, but the mention of the news—no, gossip—outlet makes her wrinkle her nose in distaste.

Though she can’t help but find it funny that if someone from Dispatch is actually currently following them—and she hopes they’re not because, hello? What happened to privacy and human decency?—all they’d get would be footage of them throwing snow at each other.

“You’re right,” Juliet says as they continue walking, “let’s not give them more business. What were you saying earlier, by the way?”

“I asked if you know what people here say about the first snow.”

Of course she does. Even if it has never been brought up in the dramas or movies she watched, her friends outside the industry have certainly gushed about the symbolism.

“No, not really,” she replies, feigning innocence. Playing dumb is fun, especially when you can also play the ‘foreigner card’ to back yourself up.

“It’s said that any lie you tell on the day of the first snowfall will be forgiven, and that any wish you make will be granted.”

Juliet frowns. “I thought that was for the first snowfall of the season, not the year. So technically, today’s not the first snow.”

Chan’s mouth drops open in a large ‘O’. “I thought you said you don’t know much about the first snow,” he accuses before shoving her lightly.

“Ah-ah-ah, you can’t be mad at me! You said any lie told today will be forgiven!”

“You’re the one who said today doesn’t count!”

“Okay,” Juliet relents, “this can be our thing, then. We can have two first snows each year.”

He laughs, and she can’t help but admire the sound of it. It’s just so contagious and never fails to put her in a good mood. “Deal.”

They keep walking until her building is in view. Admittedly, it’s a risky move to have him walk her all the way to the building’s entrance, as it’s known that people tend to wait outside idols’ dorms hoping to catch a glimpse of them, but Chan insisted that he didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of her walking alone in the dark at this hour.

“You know what else people say about the first snow?” Chan’s voice loses its usual playful edge. Instead, it sounds far softer and might’ve even betrayed a sense of nervousness.

Juliet doesn’t respond, but she turns to face his side profile to assure him that she’s listening. He keeps looking down at the ground, so she decides to silently admire the straight slope of his nose and the sharp angle of his jawline.

“People say that if you confess to someone during the first snow, you’ll stay together for a long time.”

“Is this your way of saying that you want to be with me for a long time?” she teases, but her grin drops when Chan looks at her with a solemn expression. “Oh. Oh. You’re being serious.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh at her wide eyes. “I know we’ve talked about this before, but what would you say if I told you I want to be with you? Officially, I mean.”

What would she say? A million thoughts are running through her mind, and she feels as though she’s been struck by lightning. How would the boys react? Their second year since debut was only a few months ago, would they think it’s too early? Would they be upset with her? Should she tell her company or let them find out? Would they tell her to break it off if they knew?

What if they break up? Will they still stay friends after that? Idol relationships can crumble easily given the nature of the industry and its habit of selling the fantasy of idols being ‘available’. Ten fingers wouldn’t be enough to count all the couples who broke up due to the pressures that come with this job—hectic schedules, obsessive fans, meddling companies, cyberbullying, the list can go on forever.

Is it worth it to take the risk when there seems to be a million reasons suggesting that it’d be better to stay friends?

But what does she want? Does she want to live basing every decision off of appeasing people who only know her from what they see on a screen?

Or does she want to live unapologetically with the people she loves and cares about, even if she has to risk her reputation and image simply for being happy?

Her answer couldn’t be clearer.

“I’d say that I’d like that a lot. Unless you’re secretly playing a prank on me.”

To say that Chan is flooded with relief would be a massive understatement. “You scared me!” he whines as he clutches his heart. “You weren’t saying anything for so long and I thought you were thinking about how to reject me!”

“I’m sorry,” Juliet giggles, eyes shining up at him. “Forgive me?”

A dramatic, reluctant sigh. “I guess I can make an exception for you,” he finally says.

Despite their masks hiding most of their faces, their eye-smiles tell the other just how happy they both are.

Deep down, Juliet knows that a simple snowfall cannot guarantee a fulfilling, long-lasting relationship. Perhaps a few years later, or even shorter if they’re unlucky, they may find themselves dealing with imminent heartbreak and separation.

But when her gloved hand—gloves courtesy of Chan because he somehow knew she’d forget her own— reaches for his, interlacing naturally as though they’ve done it a hundred times prior to today, she hopes that the universe will grant her silent wish that they can stay like this for a long, long time; that no matter how much they and their environments may change, they will still be able to find happiness and comfort within each other. She thinks it’ll come true.

After all, it is the first snow. Their first snow.

— bonus!!

a/n: eeeeeeeeppppp ngl this is,,,kinda cute if i do say so myself ;-; and yes this is also indulging my wish to have a cute boy (preferably park seonghwa or lee chan) confess to me on a snowy day ahdjhwjs 😔 again, thank you for reading and take care!!

feedback is always and highly appreciated!! whether it’s a reblog, a reply, or a short ask, it would mean the world to me 🥺💗 and remember that you are more than welcome to chat with me about anything in my asks!!

[unkownknowledge]

Genshin OC: Spritefather

(A/N: I'm not used to character descriptions, I'm more used to story writing. So sorry if this isn't good. Also note that this character's history with Baal is a lot darker than originally planned)

Spritefather is an ancient immortal of unknown origin, he's rarely seen by mortal eyes but he is referenced in much of teyvat's legends. His legend depends on the region: in mondstadt he is the father of Barbados, who raised him to follow the path of freedom. In Liyue he helped Rex Lapis connect with mortals by showing him the many artist and singers of the land. In Inazuma he was the husband of Baal before they came to blows when she began the vision hunt. And in Schneznaya he's known as the man who told the Tsarista "fuck off pretender, I'm making cheese" when she ordered he move his camp to make way for a fatui building.

Personally

"Humans are so nice to look at, but Interaction is a bit of a chore."

-Spritefather

Spritefather is a very calm and kind man, as evidenced by his adopting of orphaned sprites and his ability to not lose it at over 30 children. He often wanders around the wilds of Teyvat to admire the beauty of the land and is often accompanied by seven of his children, each a different elemental sprite.

As mondstadt's legend's state, he loves freedom. To him freedom is the natural state of all things, and since he loves nature he loves freedom as well.

To him humans are difficult to understand, and their customs and behaviors are tiring to perform. However he finds Sprites to be more "simple". Their language is clear to him, and their customs and behaviors are casual and easy.

While he prefers to be around sprites and animals, he does love humans as well. He think the art they paint, the stories they write, and the songs they sing are all gifts to the world. Even if a painting envokes no emotion, a story has terrible writing, or a song makes your ears hurt, he will love it and the human who made it. Because to him creativity is the ultimate freedom, and as such is the ultimate beauty.

He is not above hate however. For instance the Tsarista hates his eldest son, so he hates her. However he also does not like to fight, so when he hates someone enough to act against them he will instead prank them and cause them misfortune. This is what lead to him calling the Tsarista a "pretender", because it upsets her, and getting in her way when she made the fatui headquarters.

He is, however, capable of fighting. He is an immortal after all, so it would only make sense he would be capable of defending himself.

History with Barbados

According to mondstadt legend, Barbados almost died in Decrabain's storms before he ascended to godhood. And it was only because of the Spritefather that he lived.

While the legend isn't entirely incorrect, it is plagued with inaccuracies thanks to the people of mondstadt not knowing of Barbados' origin as a sprite.

Long before Barbados met his friend Himmel, the Sprite struggled to persist in the cold storms that surrounded mondstadt. One day he almost faded away, thanks to an avalanche trapping him inside a cave in what is now Dragonspine. Luckily for him, Spritefather was in that cave as well. Though at the time he was simply known as the "husband of eternity", as he was the electro archon's husband. He saw Barbados was starving and freezing, do he picked up the little Sprite and hugged him close to his chest, using his power to transfer all his heat to the sprite. He didn't have much food, but he gave all of it to Barbados in order to keep them alive until the snow cleared away. In the six months they spent in their he told Barbados of the world outside of the storm, how even in war it was filled with beauty, of the many wonderous people he had met on his travels, and of his beloved homeland of Inazuma.

When the snow cleared long enough for the avalanche to clear away, both left, and while Barbados wanted to join the Spritefather the man insisted that Barbados journey his homeland and find people that could make this land worth living in.

Despite his insistence that he would not return, Spritefather continued to return to Barbados and help him live through the storm. Even meeting the bard Barbados became friends with, and comforted him when the bard passed away.

And while the legends say Spritefather taught Barbados to love freedom, he only taught Barbados the philosophy of freedom. And Spritefather, who usually dislikes unnecessary violence, wishes to smack whoever gives him credit for teaching Barbados to love freedom, because it further erases his child's friend from history.

History with Baal

(Note: this might change depending on lore for Baal as it expands)

Long ago, before they ascended to godhood, Baal met Spritefather. At the time he was not known as anything, as he was but an immortal who had nothing to his name. He would observe humans, but noone ever saw him, in fact it seemed that he was invisible to all but Baal.

They continued to meet many more times, each time growing closer and closer. Spritefather telling her of the great history of the world and it's people, and Baal telling him about her day. While to many this would seem an unfair exchange, to Spritefather her days as a mortal was the most amazing stories in all of Teyvat.

When she ascended to godhood Baal used he powers to make Spritefather visible to humanity, so that he may live with them and they may live with him. It was this act that lead to him proposing to her.

After his travels around Teyvat were done, and because of his encounter with Barbados, Spritefather brought up the idea of children to Baal, an idea she equally loved. And so they began to create many electrosprites, and any orphaned sprites they could find immediately became a part of their family, for many centuries the land of Inazuma was also known as the land of Sprites because of how many would fly around the land.

With such a loving relationship, one must wonder what led to them coming to blows.

Fall of Baal

(Tw: this bit includes abuse. Not detailed, but made crystal clear)

Spritefather was appalled when Baal declared the Vision hunts. She claimed that Visions are divine power, and as such belong to the divine alone. But the Spritefather saw it as egotism and denying mortals the rewards they worked so hard to gain.

Tensions rose quickly in their relationship, Baal became more and more frustrated at her husband's opposition to her plans, and how even her children became afraid of her after she began the Vision hunts. Eventually this lead to her most horrific act: abusing Spritefather. She claimed that it was "teaching him to love her" and she was "trying to bring him back to his senses", but his scars made it abundantly clear to everyone who saw him.

While many claim he came to blows with Baal, such an event never happened. What happened instead was Baal almost beat him to death, with a gift he gave to her no less. But the Sprites saved him. All the Sprites in the land of Inazuma came together and, with the combined elemental might of million Sprites, blasted Baal away from their Father and flew him to safety.

Sadly, however, this release of elemental energy did not leave many of the sprites alive. In fact, now only seven of them live. One of each element.

History with the Tsarista

Because she hates his son, Spritefather hates her. In fact many of the bard Venti's tales of Barbados troubling the cryo archon is based off of Spritefather pranking the Tsarista or otherwise being a nuisance. One of the best ones according to him is when he had a bug camp built in the place where Tsarista wantsd to build the fatui headquarters. While she could have killed anyone else, Spritefather is, well, immortal, so that was out. In fact he's the only person who has gotten the Tsarista to give up.

History with Rex Lapis

After a few centuries of being a God, Rex Lapis began to become apathetic to mortals, something Barbados mentioned to his father over wine.

Because of his love for mortals, and having seen the effects of an archon becoming apathetic to their people twice now, Spritefather decided to pay Rex Lapis a visit.

Yo keep him in touch with his people, Spritefather had Rex Lapis take the form of a human and then dragged him from his home in the heavens down to earth by the ear. When they arrived in Liyue he had Rex Lapis see the many arts of Liyue: the dancers, the singers, the poets, they painters, and even the cooks of Liyue. Over the course of a year he showed Rex Lapis the greatness of humanity, and renewed the god's interest in his people.

Description

Spritefather wears a cloak that is similar to a Sprite's body, however it is colored with the seven different colors of the elements. Under his cloak he wears a simple black leather outfit on his whole body. His eyes glow yellow causing them to appear as yellow dots beneath his cloak, and when his hair is visible it is short and brown.

The most notable part of his appearance below his cloak his the electro scar covering his whole neck, and below his whole outfit is almost his entire body covered in electrical burns and electro scars.

_____________________

This was my first attempt at writing an oc page. This oc came to be thanks to @genshin-scenarios take over event.

(Tagging: @golden-wingseos(incase you forgot, you asked me to tag you in my genshin writings), @storytravelled)