#forest child perfume

[misslinala]

#beauty secrets #youtube #style #look #fashion #beauty #perfume #my perfume #CHIQIO #CHIQIO perfume #CHIQIO Forest child perfume #CHIQIO Forest child #forest child #forest child perfume #perfume review #review #cute #fragrance #uncommon fragrance #uncommon perfume #unisex perfumes #cool perfume #art perfume #art #creativity #best perfume #unique perfume #presentation #bottle #box

[theold-ultraviolence]

The Bard and the Sorceress

summary: Eddie makes up a bedtime story of how your baby was conceived, to your pregnant belly. CW: established relationship, dad!Eddie x pregnant!reader, 'she/her' pronouns used. Brief mentions of a first miscarriage (not graphically described), alluded smut. Let me know if I missed anything! word count: 1.7k

“Once upon a time, there was a king and a queen… – Wait, no, no, no. A knight and a princess!” 

You giggle, head tilting back against the pillows in delight, as Eddie’s plush lips brush against your skin, as delicate as clouds. He’s gazing at you from his spot by the foot of the bed, with those golden eyes and a dimply grin that rival the sunshine – a combination seen in your dreams, reflected on another tiny being.  

“No, no, no, no, wait, no – a bard and a sorceress…” he winks as he puts on his raspy dungeon master voice and slyly raises his eyebrows.  

“That’s more like it. Alright! – once upon a time, there was a bard and a sorceress, who lived blissfully in their cottage, far out in the forest that surrounded an ancient kingdom…” 

Eddie’s murmurs wrap around your heart like the safest of embraces. His warm breath swirls among the broad expanse of your pregnant belly like the embers of a fire on a cold winter night; his curls caress the stretched skin, like petals falling on a soft bed of grass; his callused fingers trace the stretchmarks and sore spots reverently, trying to make up the outline of the baby that he imagines is sleeping soundly within you. 

Your shared bedroom is bathed in mellow, honeyed light coming from the bedside lamp, as you lay among freshly washed sheets to relax you, and pillows that are perfumed with the heavenly scent of your and Eddie’s skin. You’ve got your t-shirt rolled up beneath your breasts, with your belly being warmed by Eddie’s cheek, which longingly rests there as he talks.

“The bard and the sorceress didn’t have much to their names, but they had love. Endless love.”

Eddie begins his tale, ever the storyteller, able to breathe life into entire realms in the spur of the moment. You grin as you imagine your child in the near future, being lulled to sleep as her father spins endless, magical adventures, just for her. 

“The bard would sing as the moonlight shone under the sorcerer, who danced in the woods to the beat of the night. Together they created magic, their sounds of love made a symphony that rivaled that of the wolves and nightbirds. And from that magic, a little bud grew within the sorceress.” 

Your eyes wander aimlessly all over the room, getting lost in the coils at the crown of Eddie’s head as you remember how all of this came to be. How the conversation of children had been had so long ago, only then it had been agreed that you’d wait until after you got married and had a little bit more to your name than a shitty apartment you could barely afford with Eddie balancing out his job at Thatcher tire and teaching music on the side, and you begging people to buy your paintings while you taught art at the youth center. 

But, there was one day, when you just couldn’t pry your hands away from each other; when there came rounds and rounds and rounds of rough, primal, feverish need that left you both desperate and drenched, throbbing, aching, and hungry for more, more, more. 

You were gonna have a child anyway, so why wait? You begged Eddie to fill you in the way no one else would ever do until you could feel his essence stuffing you to the brim, Eddie’s being making a home inside yourself. 

As if that wasn’t enough, he filled you again the next day, onto the next week. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. Those days, you were both so elated, feeling invincible and high without taking a single hit. It truly was like magic, which burst out with sparks the day you took that first pregnancy test and it came back positive. 

“The sorceress saw the face of that little bud, as clear as day, in her cauldron of clairvoyance.” 

You exchange a grin as you remember endless conversations before falling asleep, sharing how you were both so certain it would be a girl. 

“...And I wanna name her Elizabeth, like your mom…” you had murmured so long ago, while tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear, your heart folding over the way his eyes teared up with gratitude when you said that.  

He grinned through the rivers that traversed his cheeks, nodding as he looked up towards the ceiling. “Oh yeah? You’d do that for me? You’re gonna give me another little Lizzie Munson?”

And even through his cracking voice, he had poked your sides to tickle you so you wouldn’t call him out for crying – making you wrap your arms around him and kiss him silly until your tears were replaced with bubbling giggles. 

“The bard wrote songs for it, lullabies to help it grow,” Eddie continues. “The sorceress prayed every night to the mother goddess of the woods, swearing the little bud would be named in her honor. All was well, all was right. Until a dreadful night when they were awoken by a banshee’s shriek. The bud was gone!” 

Your fingers halt their caress around Eddie’s curls, as the memory never fails to make your heart shudder, as if out without proper cover on a cruel, arctic night. You hadn’t done anything wrong at all, and the doctors said it was normal for a first-time pregnancy. It didn’t make it any less tragic for you, having woken one night, to the horror of your bedsheets stained with blood. 

“The bard and the sorceress lamented its loss for days and nights. What had they done? They had nurtured it with all the love in their bodies; the sorceress had woven garments to keep it cozy during the winter, and the bard wrote sonnets to make its mind spin like dandelions in the wind.” 

When you came back from the hospital, you swore you’d honor the original plan of waiting until after getting married. You gave yourselves a whole week to just be sad, doing nothing but napping and staying in bed watching silly movies. You even started a little diary where you wrote the things you looked forward to doing with your child once they came back to you – first missing tooth, first trip to Disneyland, first words, first day of school… 

Eddie grabs your hand then, recognizing where your mind had wandered off to, giving it three little squeezes – to signify ‘I love you’ without words. He stops his tale to give your bellybutton a little kiss, nuzzling his cheek against your skin and breathing in deeply, as if reassuring himself that those memories were a thing of the past. 

That the present was far more beautiful – kicking his face and making him snort and chuckle, saying “Alright, alright, you want your papi to continue, I get it!”  

You laugh brightly, and resume your toying with Eddie’s hair as he clears his throat exagerateddly before continuing. 

“In their period of mourning, the sorceress sought answers from her cauldron, and was soothed by the revelation she came upon. There in the iridescent liquid, the face of the bud became clear again, enveloped by tender, wise hands. A whisper came in with the gust of wind entering through the opened window. It was the mother goddess! whose soothing voice assured the sorceress that their little bud would be safe with her – that she would take care of it until the time was right for it to rejoin the couple. Many spring suns rose before the sorceress felt the kick of life within her once again, growing stronger each day, with the blessing of the mother goddess.” 

“ – and you know who that is?” Eddie breaks the narrative to speak directly to the baby that’s been kicking eagerly through the rest of Eddie’s tale. He taps his finger gently to the spot that seems to jut out with each kick, with a goofy lovesick grin on his face. Still amused as hell because he says it looks like a scene from Alien. 

“That’s you, baby!” You double over in laughter when he blows a raspberry to your belly, retaliating all the kicks he felt against his cheek during your tale “That’s you, my precious girl!” he coos between snorting chuckles and tickles that make you both roll around in bed. 

“-- Stop, stop stop!!” You wheeze as you try to push Eddie away from you, making him redirect his attack to the side of your neck. 

He fits himself behind your body, with his arm all snug around your belly until your laughter dies down, to the gentle rhythm of his hand rubbing circles along the shape of you, and those dewdrop kisses that turn into gentle licks that have you sighing contently, melting into the bed. 

Only Eddie could have you swooning with innocent tenderness one moment, to then have you gasping for breath the other, as his hand trails over your curves and his palm squeezes your breast. He lets out a soft groan every time, delighting in the way they feel heavier in their palm, way more sensitive as his thumb lightly fondles your throbbing nipple. 

“What say thee, my beloved sorceress, wanna make more magic tonight?” You can’t help but chuckle and blush over such a corny line delivered so seriously through that low growl coming right from Eddie’s chest. 

“You’re so stupid” You playfully push his face away from your neck just to egg him on, and he gladly takes the challenge, encasing you in his arms and kissing you all over like an overeager puppy. 

And what could you say? It takes a certain kind of magic to transform laughter into whines of pleasure, to cries of newborn life.  

That’s what you ponder, a month later, gazing tiredly from your hospital bed to the sight beside you. Eddie rocking your baby in his arms, with a grin as luminous as the moonlight.

He’s kissing Elizabeth’s delicate head, whispering the continuation of The Bard and the Sorceress.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #dad!eddie munson #pregnant!reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #joseph quinn #my writing #lizzie munson #fanfiction

[voltronisanobsession]

I saw your child of aphrodite imagine, and it got me thinking, imagine a child of ares as the opposite. They are the most put-together looking imaginable, have a sort of cutsey or croquette aesthetic fashion taste, and are the most kind, loving, and gentle person you would ever meet. So when the assumed aphrodite kid absolutely demolishes the opposing team in capture the flag and gets claimed by ares everyone looses their goddamn minds.

Reader being the Opposite of a Child of Ares

OMG I LIKE THE WAY YOU THINK‼️ I actually really love this AHHH

Not proofread 💯

Another entirely unexpected arrival at camp, campers think it’s the most obvious place where you belong, the Aphrodite kids are ready to accept you into their cabin and everything when you get claimed.

The way reader is so put together has everyone entranced. You always pause to find a reflective surface to fix your hair during camp activities, making sure it falls and frames your face perfectly. Walking with grace and avoiding any muddy puddles to avoid ruining the loafers you walked into camp with. Even when you walk by some campers they can smell how fresh and expensive the perfume you wear is. Even your outfits look expensive and flattering on you, the unique style capturing your natural beauty even more!!

So many people think you’re gonna get claimed by Aphrodite by the end of the night, but everyone is surprised when they don’t see the familiar symbol of the goddess when dinner ends. I mean, she usually claims her children by the first day after all!

Nonetheless, the campers are sympathetic towards you, patting your shoulder as they wish you a goodnight while you’re just confused.

“It’s ok, maybe Aphrodite will claim you tomorrow! Don’t let it keep you up at night.”

You don’t even get a chance to tell them you already have a mother before everyone just disperses to their cabins. I find it hilarious to imagine that reader knows Aphrodite isn’t their godly parent while everyone else is just convinced she is cuz they don’t even know who your mortal parent is (kinda sad if you think about lowkey💀)

You’ve just given up on correcting people cuz you’re too nice (and kind of a doormat💔), using your own time to figure out who your real parent is while people keep yapping about Aphrodite.

Despite that, you’re know as a kind, social butterfly. Whenever someone needs help, whether it be from choosing an outfit, doing braids on the younger girls hair, or needing a sparring partner, you’re quick to volunteer. You’re kind to everyone even the Ares cabin even if they sometimes let snide remarks slip on what you’re wearing that day.

Fast forward to Friday😍 pass dinner again and you’re STILL not claimed people just assumed you’ve somehow angered your supposed mother.

It was revealed that the game for the night is capture the flag earlier in the week and everyone is bustling with life. I feel like Ares!Reader lives in some form of constant confusion since no one tells you anything so when people excitedly give you the run down of the game, they’re surprised when you want to play as well!

Usually the Aphrodite kids sit out on harsh games like this so it catches them off guard when you start putting on armor and grabbing a weapon so you can join the game.

As much the campers like you, the leaders are hesitant to choose you for their teams since they believe that you won’t be much help😭💔

Putting you as defense with some other campers for the flag, nobody really expects you to fight well if enemies make it past their offense group. Lowkey kinda hurts you that they think you need to be watched after but you still stand your ground, tense as you hear yelling eachoing throughout the forest.

When you see campers from the opposing team come running into sight, you get ready to clash against them until your partner tells you to guard the flag instead. While watching them fight, your skin practically ITCHES to join.

Your heart beat fastens watching them, gripping the sword harder as more enemies trampled from the forest, your own teammates stumbling after them. When one camper, Percy you learned his name was, managed to wiggle through your teammates, many of his team fought through the barrier as well.

Raising his sword, you finally gave into your urges to fight, swiftly meeting and blocking him with your own sword. He didn’t have much time to react before you forcibly shoved him backwards which caused him to stumble into the people behind him. With everyone surprised with your new fire, this gives you an upper hand as you begin swinging your sword at the green eyed boy in front of you. You’re all offense now, forcing him and his team into defense as you push them further away from the flag.

You’re absolutely merciless and fast that you manage to fling Percy’s sword from his grasp and continue to pick out his teammates one by one once he’s no longer a threat. Like it’s not even funny, you’re like a bull as you swing your sword like a maniac.

Everyone is in chaos as they try to get away from you😭😭 your own team doesn’t even know if you’re on their side or not LMAO💀 and from the corner of your eye you see that same boy you taught earlier climbing up the rock your flag was on. So without a second thought you disarm the person in front of you and fling the sword at Percy with as much force as you can.

People gasp as it goes straight into the rock beside him. Had you aimed a few more inches to the right you would have definitely killed him, no doubt. He could only stare back at you in shock, the friendly face he was used to seeing twisted in an unfamiliar, threatening look. The way you looked at him made it feel like you were going to pummel him into the ground if he even dared to continue going for your teams flag.

Even as the sound of a horn faintly echoed in the background, the group of campers were captivated by the bright red symbol glowing above your head. Glancing up, you could only breathe out a soft “Ares” before it slowly faded away into nothing.

It was quiet for a moment before someone jumped on your back and started yelling with joy. Everyone quickly surrounded you, cheering and screaming at how amazing you were. No one saw it coming and that’s what made them even more excited.

Coming out of the woods, campers would still surround you and praise you for your amazing fighting skills!!! When you revealed you never even held a sword before this week, no one believed cuz nobody could just do all that without any training!

Now that Ares claimed you as his, I think reader would have difficulty adjusting to the harsh and brash atmospheres of the Ares cabin.

You’re very different compared to them despite having excellent combat skills and fighting tactics. Your overall appearance and personality makes you stand out against your siblings, which is something they sometimes target you for.

They’ve seen you get stepped on by other campers though, so in their weird way, this is them kinda trying to toughen you up. They’re lowkey proud when they see that you have more witty comebacks whenever they throw comments at you.

Clarisse is one of the few campers that treat you the same, still throwing sly remarks and insults your way, but she does acknowledge that you are one of the strongest, if not the strongest, people in the cabin.

Overall I think Reader is the only camper that everyone gets along with that’s in the Ares cabin! Whenever there are group games or activities that involves fight, everyone is calling dibs on you. You still manage to keep your grace and loving nature even when surrounded by your siblings. Your open personality scares them at first since they’re not used to being fretted over and showing emotions, so it’ll take them some time to get used to your affections!

Ares!Reader shows others that you can be a badass fighter on the field while being a kind person off field! Love this reader tbh😝

#pjo x reader #Percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo headcanons #pjo concept #percy jackson #percy jackson pjo #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson x you #percy jackson ask

[soulrph]

chaotic unhinged lines from 2022-2023 (prompt edition).

basically in 2021 i made a list of prompts inspired by lines in tiktok videos and instagram reels that made me laugh so hard i cried! and now i have returned with another list! these may provide an alarmingly clear image of what my sense of humor is (aka broken) but i figure a little levity is always a good thing! more prompts are forthcoming, but in the mean time: bon appetit!

knowledge has always chased you, but you've always been faster.

no... no, that was mango apathy juice. from the farmer's market.

of all these people, you are the one i understand the least. i want to get to know you better, but like, not that much better.

i-i will CHEW YOUR MEAT!! WHAT are you doing?!

ooooh god, no, you wouldn't be long getting frostbit!

you are evil. like a hobbit.

WHY MUST YOU FAIL ME SO OFTEN?!?!!?

i have had a perfectly wonderful evening, but this wasn't it.

AHEM!! fill my cup.

may god ignore you like you ignored my greetings.

i will avenge you mister van gogh.

call off work bestie, we need you to solve a murder. here's fifteen dollars.

you're not in love. you may think you are, you dumb fuck, but you're not.

go ahead and put the ranch away.

sadly, "hopefully" doth butter no parsnips.

forget school, i want to be an italian sandwich.

you shouldn't skip work, you are a lawyer and he is a hamster.

you can stop roleplaying now. you're free.

her coupon game was so fucking raw.

i'm sorry guys... he's making a salad.

you could get a straight guy here if you learned to make a good pasta. i'll teach you how to make a risotto that'll get you married and out of my basement.

hey, do you want me to get together a plate of roast beef and hide it in our room so we can have night meats?

it's not the most ethical thing in the world, but in a pinch you can hand off a cursed object to basically any baby.

no, children, you're wrong. once upon a time, there was a piece of wood.

and i'm not saying she deserved it, but i am saying that god's timing is always riiiiight.

hydrate or die-drate, ya DICK!

why did the monkey fall out of the tree? because it was DEAD.

new york city is a fictional place written up by someone with a sinister mind and a knack for comedy.

this is grindr my guy.

wait, i didn't finish teaching you the difference between human and wolf anatomy.

it's time to tell your grandmother that she was wrong. do not be afraid.

vanilla vodka... you fucking child.

without ash to rise from, a phoenix would just be a bird getting up.

you are fucking alive. do what you want.

why are you cradling me like a baby, friend? this isn't how guys of my generation hang out.

i hope a hedgehog shits in your cereal, you difficult person.

you know, i am not as mean as i would like to be. and i think people should appreciate that more.

see, i am not a kangaroo.

well, i'd like to help, but... you see... not as much as i'd like not to.

rest in peace you fucking onion fairy.

when god sings with all his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir?

i fight for a seat in heaven, every. single. day.

map maker? can you find me somewhere on the map where this big man thinks he's the king?

you bald-headed demon...

so... there are 24 million pigs in australia... and 24 million people... so if you ever feel lonely, there's like, a pig out there that's sort of your cosmic twin.

remember, alcohol is god's apology for making us self-aware.

i'm straight!! stop CONFUSING me!!!!!

you guys want something to eat? because... i know we'll die if we don't eat.

he is a BIBLICALLY gorgeous man. i wanna feed him grapes. i wanna fan him with the frond of a date palm from the forests of Lebanon. i wanna find the alabaster vial of perfume oil that one woman broke for jesus and comb it through his hair. like... he's stressing me OUT.

i'm not sad! i'm freaking HUNGRY!

maybe, if we wait a little bit longer, a fuck will fall into my hand, and i can give it to you.

it's not my fault you thought you lived in this IKEA.

let's leave my mother out of this.

jason may kill people but he's not bad enough to kick a dog.

i run for LUMP!

oh no, i'm all out of caring, baby!

you don't think it mcbe that way... but it mcdo.

what is this enticing bowl of white?

serious question, do his nipples sparkle?

what in the reese's peanut butter fuck is going on here?

if your parents don't buy it, stop loving them!

i just hope you know just how much you've decreased productivity today.

that was poetry at its FINEST.

and if you let that motherfucker shenan ONCE, you best believe they're gonna shenanIGAN!

may god bless the dinosaur that died to make the fossil fuel that was treated to become petrol in the car that took her mom to the hospital to give birth to her.

that's modern milk for ya. what a time to be alive.

you have attachment issues. please fix it.

remember when people had secrets? we should bring that back.

the moon landing was an elaborate marriage proposal.

i don't like the cobra chicken.

i didn't know eggs were this expensive? it's time to lay my own, i fear.

so you're saying the reason i don't have a girlfriend is because i'm not a big enough threat yet.

god gave him a top lip, that's why he's so powerful.

it's a common mistake, but frankenstein was actually the author.

i finally got a pocket-sized diary!!! also i don't get the concept of life.

if a beautiful woman disagrees with me, i will immediately change my view. i've no principles.

how did you all end up married to such boiled potatoes?

if so much as one tear drops from their eye... i will slap you back into your mum.

you are ringing a phone that does not like to be rung.

look how Dr. doofenschmirtz had a fucked up childhood but didn't project his trauma onto his teenage daughter. he projected it onto a platypus.

it is mathematically impossible for you to get a wedgie.

i'm breaking up with you. i love you, it's just... i don't think you could protect me from a mummy.

if you can't do fractions....... you will fucking die.

that's right; in the year 1791, all of our bottoms were killed in a Big Bottom Massacre.

people always assume i'm mean. like CAN you BELIEVE THAT CRAP?! like WHAT would make you think i'm MEAN?! I'M THE NICEST PERSON ON THE PLANET!

the chocolate milk is strikingly overpriced and at the same time very easy to steal; another of god's little tests.

someone's gotta tell the waiter that i ordered mashed 'taters and it sure as shit ain't gonna be me.

if i had a week i couldn't list all the reasons that wouldn't work.

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence starters #dialogue prompts #writing prompts

[goldsbitch]

Right?

summary: Y/N is a photographer for McLaren F1 team. Hard working, goal oriented professional who would never put her career in jeopardy for some stupid crush, right?

That is until a photoshoot gets out of hand and there is no way to go but forward.

warning: swear words, male x female, angst

part 2

______________________________________________________________

You're a professional. Right? Always been, proud of your hard work and strong will. If you want something, you go and get it.

It's by no chance that you're standing exactly here - in the McLaren F1 paddock, in the middle of buzzing neatly organized and timed chaos prior to the start of the race. "Read the grid, feel the paddock" was a line burned to your memory by your first boss, now the Media head of Redbull. You've learned what each and every one of the people do, what their job entails, because one day, one day you want to be more than a photographer for the team's social media.

You're a professional. Had a dream and went for it, no matter the sacrifice or long hours. Always on the road, detached from your peers. Because your heart beats for this.

You'd never do anything to compromise your job. Right?

The hardest part to ignore is his scent. You can evert your eyes when he walks to the room like he owns it - and one would say he actually does, he is the team's no. 1 driver for god sake. His voice can almost be blocked out by focusing on a conversation with a different person or headphones if the situation allows. But his scent seems specifically tailored to messing with your ability to focus, so much sothat you've considered wearing a mask and pretending to be a super freak about germs.

Ironically, scents are hard to recall. And you would know, you've tried several times on lonely nights in hotel rooms, with the goal to make you finish just a little bit faster. A moment you'd really love to forget is standing in a perfume shop trying to figure out what is that magical formula. Because it can't be due to the fact that he is wearing it. Right?

However hard it is for you on the inside, one would never know of your tiny little crush from the outside. Always keeping it casual, with every photoshoot staying professional and holding it together.

It was Lando who had the idea to do more of an intimate (his words, not yours) photoshoot than usually, to spice up the feed, as he bluntly said during a casual PR catch up. This was the reason why you were standing here. In the middle of the forest, alone with a big camera and one light for the subject in question, your biggest crush in history. You were sure he was having a great time putting you outside your comfort zone, the cheeky fuck he was. But then again, he probably really did not give a shit.

"I can't focus if you'll keep looking at me like that," Lando stated like a spoiled child.

"Come again?" you asked, geniuenly confused.

He jumped around few times, as if he was about to run a marathon. "Show a little enthusiam, why so bleh today?"

"You're right, my mind went somewhere else."

"Oh, am I boring you? Well, that's bad. We should be promoting my merch here, but even the person paid to be here can't seem to be bothered!" His tone changed. He raised his eyebrows, challenging you to up your game.

You're a professional. No doubt about that.

Focus, get your head back. Your energy boosted up again, here we go! "Ok, Norris, back to work!" You're well aware that a great photo comes from the subjects ability to connect with the photographer. "You're right, this isn't working. Let's get into the car."

You both left the random wood spot and returned to his sports car that brought you here. "Sit on the driver's seat" you instructed.

"Oh, as if there is a different way this would go down."

"Come on, let's drive around. And be fast," not sure if you were incouraging him or yourself.

"Like the sound of that. Buckle up, otherwise you'll have blurry photos."

And with that he reversed back on the main road.

After about 15 minutes of driving back and forth with a casual drift on the turns, getting pictures of him driving in his new jacket and shades, the adrenaline levels were pretty up in both of you.

"Parked it up here" you instructed again, having him stop on a hill with a view on a city lights in the background. "These are amazing!" you said after a brief look on the photos.

Lando was curious as ever. "Show me!"

"No, you'll see them on the right time. Do you trust me?"

He licked his lips. "Surprise me?"

"Lean back."

You really got into the zone, already super excited for the pictures. They had everything, interesting lighting, composition and Lando was doing an exceptional job with his smiles. However, you knew it could give more.

"This is great Lando, truly great job! But let's do more and push it further, you ok?"

"Just tell me what to do." He looked like he was really enjoying the attention, but you tried to block any of these thoughts out.

"One thing photographers recommend is for the model to try and look into the lens as if you want to seduce it, capture those looking at the picture...It's for making models less focused on the camera and being more attractive..."

Lando pulled out his best smirk yet. "Oh, I'm not attractive enough to be your model now?"

"Come on. You know what I mean."

"Nah, I don't," he lied. "Elaborate, I'm just a simple driver."

Now you were getting annoyed. "Just imagine the lens is someone you want to, em, who you would like to"

"-Fuck?"

"Yes."

"As you wish." And as you asked he did.

He probably did it without much of a thought, but you were perfectly aware of how he fixed his posture, opened his lips a bit, moved his and got this look on as if he wanted to eat you - in the best way possible. This got you in the zone, striking one photo after another, moving your camera and getting closer to get the details, completely forgetting you were both there to shoot his new merch.

Battery low. You would have cursed yourself in that moment. Only you hardly had a second to think about this. When you put your camera down, you realized the nonexistent proximity between you and Lando. You were sitting above him on the back seat with him staring up to you.

You froze for a moment, knowing there is no battery left in the bag.

"Well that is us done for today," you focused on the camera. How on Earth can you be so stupid.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." You suddenly realized you were way, way to close to Lando. The damn scent, again.

"Damn, I like these kinds of photoshoots."

"Uhm, yeah." You did not want to move, but it was becoming socially unacceptable for you to be sitting on him for this long.

"Have you done this with Oscar?"

It's hard for you not to laugh at that thought. Every photoshoot with Oscar was a nightmare with the atmoshephere being so dry that everyone with an inch of taste had to tell from the photos immediately.

"Not yet," you said trying to preserve the facade. " But if these work out and the team likes them, we might recreate this with him?"

As if that was even remotely possible. You should move now. Why isn't he moving?

"Shame, thought it was our thing," his voice was becoming more raspy with every sentence.

And with that - you lost it.

"You still have the look." How is this sentence coming out of your mouth?

"What look?" he said, moving even closer to you.

"The models look."

"Remind me which one."

"The "Fuck Me Look"...But I'm not taking photos anymore."

"Interesting."

"Why?" You stopped breathing a while ago.

"Because I think you have it too."

part 2

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #ln4 imagine #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris angst #mclaren

[queenimmadolla]

eddie, "angel", and fluff

𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

  Eddie takes an aggressively long pull of the joint clasped between his fingers, dark brown eyes focused on where you occupy the other half of the couch. Your arms are folded over the arm, head using them as a makeshift pillow for the weed induced nap that came over you.

  It’s dusk, the trailer park bathed in the warm copper glow of the sun’s last few minutes. The streetlights are due to come on when it disappears. Until then, the park kids run rampant, eager to play before the dark sends them home.

  Crickets are already chirping, Cicadas and their annoying screams are reverberating from various parts of the park, all the sounds of an approaching summer night.

  The heat had been bearable today, a nice breeze sweeping through Hawkins and encouraging most of the Forest Hills residents to keep their doors and windows open so their homes could air out. 

  You’d slept over the night before, and with some languid kisses, Eddie had easily persuaded you to stay. You practically lived with him already, anyways. Had your products mingled with his on his dresser, your clothes in his closet and drawers and his pillows smelling of your shampoo and perfume. It felt wonderfully domestic and Eddie was hooked on the sensation. Loved having your presence all around him.

  With a summer day as nice as today, the two of you decided to wind down with some light reading and sharing a joint, some grapes, along with some water out on the porch couch. 

  Eddie was sitting on one end of the couch, while you were splayed out on the rest of it, bare feet resting on his lap. The two of you read your separate choices, enthralled in the last voyage of the dawn treader and a corpse, made from various beings, brought to life. 

  The soothing stroke of Eddie’s hands over the skin of your leg, coupled with the heat, breeze and weed had eventually lulled you into a slumber, with Eddie noticing only after he’d finished the chapter he was on. He entertained the idea of reading further, you just proved to be far more alluring than any structure of the English language. 

  Your face is a little shiny, obviously due to the weather, but it only makes you glow and your lips are pouty as a result of half your face being squished against your arm. You look so peaceful, so beautiful. His angel. 

  Eddie exhales the smoke he was holding in, head feeling even fuzzier than before. It’s nice.

  Despite popular belief, Eddie doesn’t get high often. Nothing against smoking, he’d just already gone through the phase of constantly being high and it lost its novelty. Been there, done that. 

  Now, he only really smokes with you, more so to relax and enjoy rather than to get high out of his fucking mind and unlock an ability to understand animals or some shit. No, Eddie just likes to use it as another way to bond with you.

  Eddie’s an affectionate person, he’s aware. He’d been starved for affection as a child after his mom died and his dad could barely clap him on the shoulder, he was doomed to crave it in his relationships. Always the Romantic in them, even if it left him the fool in the end.

  Despite many ends, he never stopped. Maybe he held back a little, but never fully stopped, Always wanting to tuck someone into his side, moon over them, map his kisses out over sweet smelling skin, and even sweeter tasting lips that would later scorn him with hurtful words when he inevitably proved to be too much or too little.

  Then you’d come into his life. You’d been present for a lot of it, a background character if you will. Sometimes sharing the same friends, sometimes exchanging pleasant greetings and maybe a short interaction. 

  Eddie thinks about one, in particular. He thinks about it a lot. 

  It had taken place at a nice little kickback with Harrington and co. Just a tight knit group of friends, some closer than others. Eddie had his then-girlfriend at his side, and arm slung over her shoulder as he conversed with your then-boyfriend, who you’d attended the event with. The conversation had been pleasant but lacking any genuine common interests or passion, until you spoke up, from your place in his arms, in defense of Michael Jackson’s discography.

  Eddie enjoyed all kinds of music, dabbled in it, and while he didn't despise Top 40 music, it did become repetitive so he didn’t listen to it often himself. 

  After that night, and a heated debate on whether or not songs being overplayed meant it took away from the brilliance of them—Eddie found himself ducking into the local music store to pick up a tape of Dangerous.

  That had been the first night he used weed for the sole purpose of enhancing an experience. It had also been the night he’d acknowledged his current relationship would not be ending with wedding bells, which granted he’d already known prior, but since it was you plaguing his mind that night (and every night after) and not her, he knew it’d have to end sooner rather than later—lest he wish to be the douche that longs for another instead of his girlfriend.

  Eddie’s hands trail along your skin, a little prickly from re-growing hair but that kind of turns him on. It’s definitely the weed hyping up his senses, your skin is so fucking soft and pliable. You’re always so delicious, he just wants to bite you.

  So, he does.

  You jolt awake with an Ow! and a laugh once you’d realize what had disturbed you from your nap. Eddie grins, barking out a laugh as you sit up and swat his arm. You don’t have to rub over the bite mark on your leg, Eddie’s already doing that for you before he yanks you by it even closer, until he’s pulling you onto his lap, lips searing against yours. He never has to hold back with you.

  You hum against his mouth, a hand moving to tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck and he sighs as he melts.

  Amongst the crickets and the cicadas, Eddie swears he can also hear wedding bells.

#Queenimmadolla’s smokesesh #eddie munson x reader #boyfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson fanfic

[readychilledwine]

Slow Hands

Part Two

A/N - Here's the first post for my "Here's to 100" Celebration week. 💙 I'm starting off with something I've received a few requests and messages about.

Warnings - mentions of abuse/trauma, mentions of child abuse, mentions of scars. Smut smut smut. Anal play, pet/master dom and sub dynamic play. Fingering, oral (m recving)/throat fucking. Minors DNI.

Part One

Lyria leaned closer into her mirror, examining the peachy nude lipstick she was wearing one more time before standing up straight and fixing part of her hair.

She was putting so much effort into her looks for a male. Something her brothers would frown upon since they normally praised her natural beauty. She had curled and braided her hair in places before pulling into a messy yet almost flirty, high ponytail. She had done her makeup. She put on expensive perfume.

She was even wearing a dress, something she had not done since being freed from the mountain. She brushed her hands along the baby blue fabric one more time before moving to look herself over in the full length mirror. The dress was one Rhysand had actually bought for her when he first brought her here. He loved the way the color sat on her golden skin tone, how it brought out the red in her hair. He had told her to save the little number for her first date in his court.

She didn't think he had planned on that date being with his brother. She pulled on her heels and put on the earrings she had picked for the night. A soft knock on her door made her heart beat pick up as she made her way over.

She opened the door, allowing Azriel in. "Hey, you're early." He was silent, staring at her with his mouth slightly parted. "Do I look okay? Rhys told me you had picked somewhere really nice, I can change." He grabbed her arm as she moved to go back to her room.

"You look stunning. I just didn't expect," he studied her again. The way the dress hugged her upper body, cinching at her small waist, before flaring out slightly and ending above her knees. Her long legs highlighted by the heels she was wearing. "Gods, you're beautiful."

She smiled softly at him. "You aren't so bad looking yourself." He was dressed in tighter black trousers, a black button up shirt. He had on several rings and a watch. "Let me grab my purse and we can go."

"You don't need your purse." He offered her his arm. "Let's just go get dinner."

—----------

The restaurant Azriel brought her to was an Inner Circle favorite by the Sindra. Faelights and candles adorned the patio they had opted to sit on to enjoy the beautiful summer evening.

He found himself falling into easy conversation with her. They had spoken about his upbringing, how they met Rhys, about how she got into healing.

There was a couple tense topics Azriel wanted to approach with the Heiress, like the topic of her older brothers, of her fathers, of why Rhysand had brought her here and hid her from all of them until now, but he danced around them waiting for her to make an opening. He was tired of waiting though, and needed answers before he put his plan for tonight into action.

"Do you talk to your brothers?" She looked at him a little shocked and blinked. "If you don't mind me asking." She does, a shadow whispered. Gentle.

Lyria sighed, pushing her pasta around her plate. "I speak with Eris and Lucien. I do not talk to the other males I have the unfortunate pleasure of being related to."

Azriel nodded. "What's Eris actually like? Behind that mask and bullshit self defense mechanism?"

Lyria looked at Azriel and sighed softly. "Ask me what you actually want to ask."

"What happened with Mor? Did you have part in it?"

Lyria shook her head. "I was a child when they were engaged. All I remember from that night was Eris had allowed me to ride with him on a border patrol. We found her, and he begged her to let us help. She refused. He asked if he could at least get her somewhere she'd be safer, and could be found because the Autumn forest isn't a good place for people my father deems unworthy."

Lyria sighed again. "He had me use what little knowledge I had on winnowing to get her to the clearing you found her in. He hardly slept that night. I know there were discussions between the two of them before this all happened, some hushed fighting, but Eris protected me from whatever little things he could that would lead to Beron hurting me or using me. Mor included."

Azriel nodded. Slowly processing the added information. "So he isn't lying?"

"Eris is kind, caring, funny. He would have never purposely hurt her." Lyria pushed her plate away. "And your question on Lu?"

"How much has he told you?"

Lyria shook her head again before beginning to play with her hair. "Not much honestly. He's not thrilled we are here together, but he understands I am grown enough to make my own choices."

Azriel nodded again. "Why did Rhys hide you for so long?"

She shook her head and held up her arm, a small bargain tattoo unveiling itself. "I can't tell you that. Can we go? I feel like some of this is better discussed alone."

—---------

Azriel pulled her closer to him as they sat on her couch. Talking had quickly turned into kissing, and kissing to heavy touching. Her nails were currently dragging down his bare chest, shirt long lost in some corner of her house, as he ran his own hands up her bare thighs.

Azriel lifted her, remembering he had wanted to repay a favor, and began walking her down the hallway to the room they were in last week.

It came alive the second they entered. Candles and faelights began to brighten, the sounds of nature setting in softly in the background. The soft smell of jasmine and honey hit his nose. "Why is it so… sensual smelling in here tonight?"

Lyria threw her head back with a soft moan as Azriel moved his kisses down her throat and neck. "Feyre and Rhys booked a couples massage lesson. I taught them little tips and tricks based in pleasure massage, they had champagne and chocolates, went home to try to make baby number two." Az chuckled softly against her throat. "Don't laugh. Couples in Velaris go crazy for my date night packages!"

Azriel kissed her deeply again, beginning to unlace the dress she was wearing. "And when is the last time someone took care of your body, Lyria?"

She knew it was a coded question. He was asking her two things. "It's been a while." She confessed.

"Let me take care of you, little fox. Get undressed. Lay on the table on your stomach." He kissed her gently before leaving the room to give her privacy to undress.

Lyria heated the table and blanket, sighing happily as she allowed the dress to fall and hung it. She got on the table, giggling as a shadow caressed her hair before covering her with a towel and Azriel entered.

Her approached her slowly, hand gently running her upper thigh to her ankle as he began to hold back anticipation over her newly exposed skin. He ran his hand softly back up the other leg, admiring every freckle on her shoulders before pausing to look at the scarring on her back.

She had been beaten with something, he ran a hand down one, the familiar sensation of a burn scar under his finger tips. Something that was on fire. "Who did this to you?"

Lyria sighed, turning to look at him with a brow raised. "Beron. His favorite method to put me in line with was a 9 tail whip. He liked how thin the scars were. If I was being extra defiant, he'd light the whip on fire after force feeding me faebane." She felt Azriel's grip on the table, his knuckles had turned white. Lyria pulled one of his hands to her head, laying it back down, "Start with the scalp and work down."

Azriel took a few stilling breaths, his hand instantly beginning to scratch and pull at her hair gently from the base. She let out a soft nose that brought him back to her, back to this moment. He didn't speak as he began to try to take care of her. He watched as she shivered slightly as he gripped the hair at the base of her neck. "You are beautiful," he whispered to her. "So beautiful."

Lyria moaned as his hands moved down to her neck and shoulders. He watched her shiver again, signaling to him he had found the right amount of pressure. He worked the tension out slowly before moving lower.

Lyria sighed softly as Azriel's hands ran along her back. He was being so gentle with her even if it was clear he didn't exactly know what he was doing.

She moaned as he applied more pressure to a tighter area, causing the male to grin with satisfaction. "Like that, little fox?"

"Just like that," her voice had become breathy, eyes fluttering shut. He was doing the best he could to remember her motions from the week before, copying them as closely as possible.

Azriel was almost desperate to see her fall apart the way he had. He was desperate to repay that favor. He allowed his shadows to begin exploring. Watching as they played in her hair, down her back, over the perfect ass he'd been dreaming about.

His goal was set as she moaned as he moved to another tight area. Lyria was going to cum for him tonight, and he honestly did not care how.

His methods became more focused, he began softer touches, watching as goosebumps danced across her skin. His shadows had begun to play in her hair. She was catching on to what was happening. "Whatcha doin', Az?" Her tone was playful as she lifted herself to peek over her shoulder at the blushing male.

Azriel smirked at her, a scarred hand going under the towel to touch the bare skin of her ass and squeezing it. "Repaying a favor." He started to use methods he knew worked. He began kissing her back and neck, whispering into her ear. "Do you want me to touch you, Lyria?"

"Cauldron boil me," she moaned softly as he bit her shoulder. He smirked as she arched her back slightly into him. He could smell her. The scent of their arousal mixing in the air as he moved his hand lower and closer to her core. A soft whimper left her throat. "Please."

"Please what, princess?"

"Touch me."

Azriel wasted no time, running his fingers on her already soaked core before pushing two into her. He used his other hand to tangle into her soft hair, pulling it to force her back to arch more. "Such a pretty little thing." She moaned loudly as his finger stretched her open.

"Azriel," her voice had gone completely breathy at this point. "Feels so good."

He smirked. "Just wait, princess. Your pretty cunt will feel so good wrapped around me." He pulled his fingers out of her, quickly turning her over on table and pulling her closer to the ledge. His fingers returned to her again, his thumb now joining in his assault on her by brushing against her clit. She had propped herself up on her elbows, watching as Azriel's fingers sunk in and out of her.

She was moaning his name, moaning praise, gasping softly with each delicious pull and push. "Look at me," he said. "Eyes on mine, princess." She looked into Azriel's hazel eyes. "Good girl. Such a good girl. Do you want to cum on my fingers?"

Lyria nodded, her red hair bouncing slightly at the motion. "Please."

"What do I get?" She whined as he curled his fingers into that perfect spot.

"Anything. You can have anything." Azriel hummed, and sped up his hands movements, groaning to himself as he felt her walls twitching around his fingers, tightening in excitement. Lyria was still following his orders, her beautiful eyes locked on his as her mouth fell open.

Azriel leaned forward, pushing her submission to find out exactly what he was dealing with. He grabbed her chin with his spare hand, holding her jaw open as he maintained eye contact with her, and then spit into her mouth. "Swallow." She did. "Cum, little fox." And she did. Lyria felt that coil snap in her stomach. He forced her to keep eye contact with him as she moaned out his name loudly, her toes curling. Shadows began to play along her breasts, pinching and tweaking her nipples causing more stimulation and prolonging her orgasm.

Azriel smirked as she rode his hand through her high, chest heaving. "On your knees. Take my pants off." He removed his fingers from her, pulling them to his mouth to suck them clean as he stepped back.

Lyria obeyed, getting on her knees in front of him and unlacing the tight material. She pulled them down his thighs and removed them, running her hands back up his thighs as she sat and waited. "Mouth open, hands behind your back. Tap my thigh twice if it's too much." He stroked his cock, watching as she got into position and parted her lips for him. "Gods, you are obedient, aren't you?"

"I just want to be your good girl," the soft confession almost made Azriel feel guilty as he pushed himself into her mouth, gripping the back of her head to hold her in place as the base of him.

"And you are." He began to fuck her throat slowly, watching her face as drool and tears began to form. His hands were laced tight into her hair for control as he growled above her. "Look so beautiful with my cock down your throat. Such a pretty little mess." She gagged softly around him. Play. He commanded his shadows, smirking as she moaned loudly at them beginning to trace over her clit, her nipples, dragging themselves between her folds. He picked up speed, watching as her mascara began to run, moaning as he destroyed her.

A familiar tight feeling started in his abs as his wings began to flare more. Azriel ripped her off of him and up before it could go further than he wanted and bent her over the table. "Are you on the tonic?" She nodded, unable to form words as his shadows continued their assault. "Good." Azriel lined himself up and pushed inside of her, head falling back into his shoulders as they both moaned. He grabbed both of her arms, pulling her slightly off the table and forcing her to use her abs to support herself.

He set a fast pace, filling her in a way no male ever had before. Stretching her more than any male had before. Lyria was quickly a mess, moaning his name and meeting his thrusts. "Is that the only word my beautiful little fox knows now? Have I fucked you so dumb already you can only say my name?" The drag of his cock as he teased her made her whimper and nod. "Fucking perfect. You are fucking perfect." Azriel grabbed both of her wrists in one hand. His other hand was squeezing her ass again as she laid back on the table.

"How far can I push you, Lyria? Where's the line?" Azriel began to tease her other hole. "Should we find out, princess?"

A scream of his name as he found that sensitive spot in her cunt was her only response. He could feel her wetness dripping, he could feel her tightening around his cock. He took the chance and pushed his thumb into her ass, chuckling as she moaned his name again. "Azriel, fuck! Please."

"Flithy fucking whore, aren't you?" Lyria nodded, smiling at the accusation. "Should I fuck your pretty ass next time? Gods, I'm going to fucking keep you. Can I keep you baby girl? Lock you up in my cabin in chains and just use this little body? Ill treat you like such a good little pet baby. You will be so spoiled."

Lyria was lost, pleasure building so tightly in her stomach she was going to explode soon. He felt so good inside of her and each groan and growl he released had her body fluttering in feminine pleasure. "Yes, master." Azriel groaned above her. "You can keep me."

He was smirking behind her again. He began thrusting even harder into the overly sensitive spot, growling as she got impossibly tighter around him. "Good little pet." His thumb was moving in time with his cock, he could feel it dragging, adding stimulation for both of them. Lyria was twitching around him, drooling and whispering in his name as over sensitivity set in. "Are you going to cum with my thumb in your ass, pet?"

A harsh thrust came after the question, making Lyria see stars as her toes began to curl again. "Yes, master. Can I cum? Please?"

Azriel growled again, his own orgasm right within reach. "Cum," he commanded. "Cum on my cock. I want to feel you fall apart on me."

She came with a scream of his name, Azriel roaring behind her as he also fell over the edge with that final stimulation of her walls fluttering around him. "That's it, pet. There you go." The hand holding her wrist dropped them, guiding her soft pushing against his hips to pull him further into her. "Good girl, Lyria." He pulled his other hand out of her, resting it by her waist as he ran the other up and down her back. "Took me so well, baby."

Lyria shuttered at the praise. Her eyes shut as she came down fully. "We should do this again." Azriel nodded in agreement, pulling out of her slowly and grabbing the towel on the table to clean both of them.

Lyria turned as he threw it into the hamper and froze. Azriel looked at her his brows knitted in confusion. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Then he felt it. Azriel froze as well as he stared at her. A snap happened between the both of them causing his breath to hitch and hers to still.

The string connecting them was golden and sparkling. He pulled her to him instantly, hand holding the back of her hair as he began to cry happily into her head. "You have no clue how long I've been looking for you." He kissed the top of her head, then her forehead, then each cheek and nose. He finally kissed her lips. Lyria kissed him back, just as eager and smiled as he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. "Maybe we can do this again in a couple days, but minus the sex? Just spend time together?"

She nodded at his offer, trying to ignore her growing glowing skin. "I'd like that a lot."

"Do you always glow after sex?"

He smiled as she blushed. "No. I glow when I'm happy."

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x vanserra!oc #azriel x oc #azriel fic #readychilledwine's heresto100 celebration

[kiwasaji]

Genshin Men - Do they shower What do they smell like?

a/n: This is just something stupid I thought of when chatting with a friend. Not serious...most of them at least.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mondstadt

Albedo - No because he doesn't really have to. He's made of chalk so he's just kinda scentless.

Bennett - He tries to shower but it never works. Stinky boy.

Diluc - Yes, but he does just smell like alcohol due to his job.

Kaeya - Absolutely. He smells great on days he doesn't go to the tavern.

Mika - Yes. He smells like a newborn baby

Razor - No. He smells like wolf shit (literally)

Venti - No, but the overwhelming smell of alcohol covers up any stench.

Liyue

Baizhu - He showers. He smells like a doctor's office in a good way.

Chongyun - He's convinced if he smells the spirits will avoid him even more. He smells like silk flowers. ;)

Xiao - NO. He smells RANCID. never bathed in his life. Closest thing to a shower he's ever had is getting rained on.

Xingqiu - Of course he does. He smells like your typical rich kid. Expensive perfume.

Zhongli - Yes. He smells like a tree tho lmao.

Inazuma

Ayato - Of course. He smells amazing I swear on it.

Gorou - ....no.. He swims that's his bath. Smells like wet dog.

Itto - Not until Shinobu forces his stinky ass to. He smells like a middle school locker room.

Kazuha - He does when he can. Still manages to smell good tho.

Heizou - Yes. Smells so good I'd lick his armpits.

Thoma - Yes. He smells like cleaning supplies like the malewife he is.

Sumeru

Alhaitham - Yes but he uses 13 in one wash. His tits make up for his lack in proper shower hygiene. He smells like a library in a bad way.

Cyno - Only because Tighnari forces him too. Otherwise he'd smell just as bad as Xiao.

Kaveh - Absolutely. He takes bathing so seriously. He smells Amazing.

Tighnari - Yes. He smells like the forest. (so original i know)

Wanderer - Yes. He's not trying to stink. He does smell like cheap body wash tho.

Fontaine

Ferminet - Yes. He smells like Gerber Grins Giggles Sweet Pea Gentle Mild Baby Wash For Hair & Body. (he is my son)

Lyney - Yes. He smells Immaculate

Neuvillette - He does but he can't wash away the smell of rain.

Wriothesley - No. Axe bodyspray and BO.

Fatui

Capitano - Yes, but he'll always smell like blood.

Childe - Yes, but he doesn't wash himself he just lets the water run down. Blood and way too much expensive cologne.

Dottore - NO. Nah, he rubs himself down with rubbing alcohol and calls it a day. Smells like bleach and mildew.

Pantalone - Yes. Just the right amount of expensive cologne.

Peirro - Yes, but he just kinda smells like death.

Pulcinella - Yes. He smells like your typical grandpa.

Other

Aether - No. I'm sorry, but he smells like sweat at the best.

Dainsleif - N O. Another connoisseur of rain baths. Smells awful.

#albedo #childe #neuvillette #diluc ragnvindr #zhongli #dottore #genshin impact #this is a shitpost #lyney #kamisato ayato #heizou #arataki itto #alhaitham #wanderer #scaramouche #kaveh #kaeya #xiao #genshin x reader #kazuha

[astravv]

what i think genshin characters smell like - headcanons

► alhaitham

alhaitham seems like he’d smell like a very strong men’s cologne. not like axe, but something very fancy and nice. not too overpowering, but when you’re around him it’s definitely noticeable.

► dottore

dottore smells like a doctor’s office. no, not because he’s “the doctor,” just because he’s probably using latex gloves sometimes and just is very clean. maybe bro uses a lot of hand sanitizer.

► childe

childe probably smells like sweat about 35-40% of the time. the other percent is probably the smell of axe deodorant or just axe. he just looks like a guy that would spray axe all over his body. like DROWN in it.

► neuvillette

neuvillette probably smells the same as alhaitham, same expensive cologne, but neuvillette’s is probably way less sensual and more of a fresh, clean scent.

► kaeya

kaeya smells like an expensive spicy cologne. one that hits your nose and makes you go “damn my nose is burning.”

► diluc

diluc probably smells like wine. he smells like a very strong scent of grapes and wine. he tries to mask the smell with a little been of a fresh smelling cologne, but the wine scent is very heavy on him.

► zhongli

zhongli smells like an old person’s house. not a bad thing, just older, like a book almost. he smells more nostalgic and soft. woodsy, too.

► venti

venti 100% smells like alcohol 24/7. no covering up that scent. it’s constantly on him, a lot like diluc, but worse.

► wriothesley

wriothesley smells like fresh tea and a woodsy scent, maybe a bit of metal thrown in there since he is constantly in the fortress of meropide.

► ei

ei smells like lavender or a soft floral scent. a little woodsy scent thrown in there, but a strong flower scent. maybe a bit grandma-ish.

► kokomi

kokomi smells like morning dew with a soft hint of vanilla. she definitely smells very clean and approachable. she has a scent that people seem to compliment a lot.

► hu tao

hu tao for sure smells like wood because all of the coffins she has to deal with. she has a very forest-y smell.

► ganyu

ganyu smells like a very strong vanilla perfume. she smells like someone was just baking some cookies or cake. a sweet scent of icing too.

► yae miko

yae miko smells like cherry blossoms with a fresh laundry scent. she’s around cherry blossoms all day, so it’s normal for her to smell like it.

► furina

furina smells like vanilla, a lot like ganyu. but very strong on the cake. there’s a bit of citrus in there too.

► eula

eula smells very floral. she smells like freshly picked flowers, or a nice summer day. a soapy scent too.

► itto

itto also seems like a guy that would shower himself in axe body spray. not as bad as childe, but the scent is still very strong. chokes you up when you’re around him.

► navia

navia smells citrus-y. very vanilla with citrus. maybe some salted caramel in there too. think like sol de janerio 62 with some citrus scents thrown in the mix.

► nilou

nilou smells like strawberries and vanilla. think strawberry pound cake from bath and body works, but less potent and more soft.

#diluc #kaeya #zhongli #Childe #Itto #raiden shogun #kokomi #hu tao #neuvillette #wriothesley #yae miko #navia #furina #ei #venti #alhaitham #dottore #ganyu #Eula #nilou

[knebulanight]

Stretched out my character design muscles by turning a bunch of my favorite* Pokémon into cute girls inspired by the original creatures.

(*Galarian Weezing and Clodsire aren't as high on the list as the rest, I just had some fun character design ideas for them, but everyone else is definitely my top 10)

Character names and short bios below the cut:

Glaceon (x2) | Firn & Mint | Duo magicians specializing in ice magic illusions and fantastic icicle displays, they're part of a band of performers.

Farigiraf | Zarifa | The curator of her own museum. She has a fondness for the old, dusty, magical, and especially cryptic.

Falinks | Hexa Semestre | Genius inventor, master of technology, immature brat, and super full of herself. Very much chaotic neutral, she's prone to nice and naughty acts alike, but it heavily depends on her mood and whoever is paying her with the tastier snacks.

Whirlipede/Scolipede | Latrielle | A high-ranking member of a secret evil organization. She specializes in taming and breeding dangerous beasts and insects with her unique charm and strange magicks.

Ribombee | Talis | A teeny tiny pollen collector and seller. Using her fairy intuition, she's able to tap into the mystical power of flower pollen, and turn them into a powerful healing substances and painting materials.

Sylveon | Pennon | An energetic acrobat who's part of the Glaceon Twins' performing troup. She also part-times as a candy shop clerk. Which candy shop, you ask? All of them.

Galarian Weezing | Madam Miasma | An eccentric perfume maker and wandering saleswoman. She shrouds herself with her own special perfumes. Her mood, methods, and prices dramatically shift with each kind of aroma.

Breloom | Boleta | An apothecary who lives by herself in the forest, studying mushrooms. She's learned the effects of many fungi breeds and their spores, and weaves them into her staff and self-defense fighting tactics.

Slither Wing | Dawn / "Daybreaker" | Professional wrestler in the evening, monster fighter in the morning. "Daybreaker" wakes up squarely at sunrise to fend off the daily influx of giant monsters that threaten her peaceful city.

Clodsire | Daisy | A simple lackadaisical young girl who's often seen prowling the marketplace, conversing with random passersby and indulging in free samples.

Wailord | Lady Duchess McGalleon | The only child, heir, and right hand to a canned plankton tycoon. While patiently waiting for her huge inheritance, she helps her father by overseeing the company's workers, always looming tall over them.

Typhlosion | Ignis Megaboom | She's always throwing herself into fights with no purpose, but her behavior is likely due to insecurities or something. The only time you'll see her exhibit patience is when she's charging up her explosive attacks.

bonus doodles & sketches, including some scrapped designs:

#pokemon gijinka #character design #art

[helloescapist]

The Hashiras in a Relationship| Kyojuro Rengoku

Word Count: 4800?

Setting: Kyojuro Rengoku x gn!reader (there is one mention of kids in the future, but it's not implied how they will enter the family).

Content Warnings: none 🔥

Summary: headcanons Kyojuro Rengoku as a relationship partner, what it would entail. Dating to commitment.

[image is not mine]

To be loved by the Flame Hashirais to know comfort and warmth. To be loved by Kyojuro is falling nights, evening hours beneath stars that twinkle in the sky. The soft glow of cinder illuminating silhouettes, soft touches that at a moment’s notice deepen. Its security, an embrace beneath a blanket, two bodies coiled within another. It’s his breath against the back of your neck, snuggled close together. Savoring the tender notes of Japanese Red Cedar, tender as the embers cool. The fragrance of smoke, delicate and hazy. Dulling the senses as the warmth threatens to drift you off to sleep. The touches of smoke, destined to dance across your flesh. Lingering in the warmth, savoring one another, and perfuming your pores. To be loved by Kyojuro, is to stand next to a bonfire. Dance beneath the stars, warm and playful, to twirl in smoke, to bask in the crisp scent of leaves, and embrace comfort. The sweet caress of Orange Osmanthus. To know that regardless of where you may go, the scent of smolder shall remain, just as his love.

To be loved by Rengoku is to understand that you will need to embrace him. To accept the warmth of his smile, to respond to his laughter, to bask in the soul-piercing questions.

It’s to bare your deepest desires, and return his own. To welcome his confessions, to caress his tears, to cradle his insecurities.

To be loved by Rengoku is to be loved in every sense of the word. It’s to know the reliability of the rising sun; to know that regardless of the darkness that may claim the night, the dawn will always come. The warmth of embers upon your flesh, plush blankets, and the tender brush of his nose against yours.

It’s to know sacrifice, to know the honor of a Hashira, of a partner, and of a good man. Whether it is the haori off his back, relinquishing his bento to a hungry stranger, derailing a date to help a little granny carry a parcel home, to more extremes such as defending a child who impeded upon a nobleman’s honor, to staring death in the eye to protect mizunoto.

To be with Rengoku means accepting filling his empty tummy; it’s for the best his cooking is… questionable. It’s not he’s actually a bad cook, it’s more like he’s overzealous in the kitchen. Bare in mind the era, alongside his rank amongst the Demon Corps, Kyojuro likely wouldn’t have many opportunities to interact with the kitchen outside of amusement.

While he can follow the recipe well enough, I mean he is no stranger to scavenging the forests of Japan. Ultimately, his own excitement coupled with so many options—what is mitsuba? He’s confident he has seen [YN] use it in the kitchen. It MUST be tasty!

In it goes. He’s never been properly been given the opportunity to interact with a vast variety of spices and seasonings, and so, Rengoku is quick to deviate from the recipe.

To be with Rengoku means that, colds are in your future. His over generous heart very well will have him giving up his bed for a stranger while out on a mission, donating his haori for a passerby, so I recommend brushing up on caring for a patient.

Especially one as unintentionally stubborn as Kyojuro. It’s not that the Flame Hashira aspires to bring home a cold, or he means to be a burden while he’s ill. It’s rather that, it’s because he doesn’t want to burden you with his condition that he will attempt to hide it.

He will struggle against being cared for, insure you that he will manage. Please, don’t mind him. You will have to be firm, remind him that you WANT to care for him, and even resort to some under handed tactics to ensure he remains in bed.

I suggest reaching out to Shinobu for wellness supplements, vitamins, and rations for him to carry on his missions if he doesn’t give them away. You may have to resort to simply adding it to his daily routine, he certainly won’t reject the idea if you reassure that it’s because you care.

Despite his fuss, he loves that you’re taking care of him.

Regardless of what route you take in ensuring his physical wellbeing, the day will come. The day you pray will never cross your paths, when a kakushi delivers the news no one wishes to utter to a lover.

To be with the Flame Pillar is to accept that he will offer up his life for the sake of others. It is, after all his duty. Bestowed upon him by birth, gifted from the gods, and gently instilled with the pride of his mother, the day will come, and to be with Rengoku means to accept that one day, he will not return.

That your bed, will be empty, devoid of laughter. His curiosity and jovial smile will be absent from the kitchens, and your nights will be robbed of his enigmatic gaze.

This is the duty of his lover. One that pains him to impart on you, but one of which, he cannot avoid.

Just know, that every moment he dedicated to you were the happiest of his life.

[YN], I’m so sorry I won’t be home for dinner.

Reminiscing of the first bento you had ever made, the pride in which you had presented to him, the brightest smile touched to his face as he passes from this world.

Your first meeting, would be an everyday event. One where you went about your duties.

Whether it was to report for duty, under Oyakata-sama’s watchful gaze. The tilt of your head, eyes well trained to avert from another’s gaze. The polite bend of your back to even the kakushi that rushed through the halls, to the depth of your bow as you greeted superiors, well-practiced and mannered. The soft, humble smile tucked at your lips as he passed you by.

It could be on an average serving day, employed at a local tea house. Disbursing tea and treats with a dutiful bow, and gratitude upon purchase. Welcoming all those who passed the business. The deep bow from those that frequented your shop regardless of station. The way you had tended tend to an elderly man, who had struggled with his meal. His later years betraying his body, making him jumpy and unstable. How you had quickly preserved his honor without so much as a second thought. Willing to take the blame for offering him such cold food that it had sent a chill down his spine, both of you knowing that the meal before him was well prepared, all while maintaining the bend of your back.

Truthfully, the first day you would encounter one another, would be an ordinary day. It would be your average day. One born of duty, of survival, of tasks to be accomplished, and yet, the way you had conducted yourself.

Respectful, dutiful, kind. Not a day in which you would expect attraction to ember. The touch of cinders had ensnared him, drawn his attention.

The days to weeks to follow, you find yourself caught under his gaze. The touch of embers drawing your curious attention, embarrassed to be appraised. Bashfully averted, prioritizing manners whether of station or employment.

The warmth of crisp fall leaves, captivating the ambers of autumn, engrossed in the warmth of fiery red enough to draw the heat to your cheeks.

Unlike some of the Hashiras, Rengoku does not require as much time to pursue you. While he’s not as intentionally flirty as some of the Hashira, he is also not as hesitating either. I would say, he’s a fair middle ground.

He craves a deep connection, and a genuine partner. His approach to ensuring he has glimpsed at the truest version of you, would be similar to Shinobu.

The Flame Pillar will take some time to observe you. Nothing as in depth as the Insect Hashira’s approach no one will be as thorough as Kocho. It will be small drop-ins, interactions made in passing.

Never intending to snoop, but he could not resist the way his eyes followed you, the way you had pulled from an onigiri from your pocket, offering it to a small child who’s stomach knew of hunger. Could not ignore the gentle way you had consoled them.

Nor the time when he was out securing bentos for his journey, ensnared by the way you had placed yourself between an innocent bystander, and a fowl temper drunker.

He would have intercepted the interaction, but it was evident that the lecture you had elicited had more than sobered the man up, and shamed him more than any smack Kyojuro could have provided.

No, he really wouldn’t need that much time before he approached you with the intentions of taking you on a date, or seeing you more casually. He certainly has no qualms about making the first move.

Should you decide to reject him, it will be met with a sincere smile, and apology for disrupting your day. However, in the event you have elected to turn him down, you will have to make the first move if you’ve changed your mind.

Kyojuro is a tolerant man, and he will take you up on your offer despite his bruised ego, but he will not ask you a second time.

It’s not that he’s no longer interested, rather, your reject was clear—he is not one to force himself on you, or anyone else for that matter. He does not enjoy playing games.

That being said, his willingness to approach you first is a breath of fresh air amongst the Hashiras, not many of them will approach you first, or willingly announce their attraction in the way that the Flame Pillar, nor as openly.

The positive is that your relationship, is not expected to progress slowly. The first date will be set as soon as Rengoku has determined that he is in fact interested. This stage can move as quickly as his interactions with you.

If you happen to work together under the Demon Corps command, you can expect things develop fairly quickly.

However, if you are not a member of the slayers, then your opportunities are limited to the interludes between his missions.

To be clear, Rengoku is not averse to a more casual relationship. Although he approaches them with trepidation. While he is flirtacious intentionally or not, he has very little desire for a fleeting attraction.

He wants a spark, a flame that bursts upon impacts. The rumble of hearts, merged to one, singing of more than simple cravings of the flesh, but rather the desperate plead of souls pledged to one another.

The steady flames of true love, he is looking for a partner one in which will satisfy his desire for a deep connection, not a passing fling.

For this reason, Kyojuro is not likely to engage in a casual fling. That being said, while such fleeting interludes are rare, they do happen. If this is the arrangement you desire, your best bet is to be forthcoming with your expectations.

If you are insincere about your relationship expectations, you will likely be met with a critical reaction before the bond is without a doubt, severed.

To be loved by Rengoku is to engage in deep, intimate conversations. His desire to connect with you will not be satisfied without such interactions.

He wants craves to know the truest you. To delve into the depths of your soul, to know the warmth of your smile. He yearns to dance upon midnight with you, to play in the snow as though you were children, and to witness to your tears.

To comfort your fears, to quiet the depths of your mind, and the doubts that fester there. He desires nothing more than to understand you. To care for you, to know the you, you would only dare share with him. Him alone. Rengoku is more than willing to exert all of his time to unfolding the layers you bare.

Discussions of your future, and the possibilities that accompany them will be common place. While he savors the present, the warmth of your smile, how lovely your eyes are alight in the daylight, and your scent as delicate and earthy as sweet potatoes, the Flame Hashira’s heart is towards the future.

Even on your first tryst, Kyojuro’s core is considering the life ahead of you. Whether you will marry, or engage in a promise of souls. If you would want children, or rather, how many children would you be willing to care for.

How you might turn the Rengoku estate into your own, would the home smell of tea and yaki imo? Would you great him with daigaku imo on harder days? How do you prefer to express your affections? How would he achieve this? How would you ensure in all the years to come, that you will always know his affections are for you, and you alone?

the man is already considering names for the fur ball he would bring home for you.

Kabocha for a rabbit. Kaki for a dog. No, wait. [YN] may a cuter name like Mochi, or Chibi.

Prepare yourself, he will not hesitate to approach a heavy topic. He wants to know the profundity of your dreams. Savor the taste of your aspiration.

There is a chance you may be blindsided by his abrasive approach, rare is the man who would impede on these topics on the first date, but I suspect that the natural warmth and acceptance that Rengoku radiates, will have your lips moving in no time. Whether you are shy or not, I imagine that he will find a way to have you talking. He’s so good nature, that I doubt it would be a forced situation.

He may have offered too man alcoholic drinks, unaware of your low tolerance. The spew of confessions to follow enough to shame him for not cutting you off sooner—he should have been more thoughtful.

Or perhaps he noticed the way your eyes sparkled when you passed by an artwork, inquiring if you yourself, are a crafter. Your excitement to share your passions betraying your attempt to maintain intrigue. I

t’s okay, he finds the way you overshare the intricate details of your passion adorable even if he doesn’t understand the terminology.

For this reason, your first date may last far longer than you ever suspected.

Truthfully, you’ll notice fairly early on that Rengoku supports these pursuits. The Flame Hashira would not shy away from bringing back tokens of affection on his journeys.

If perhaps you were interested in seamstress work, he would bring back interesting hand-dyed patterns he had passed in the different regions. Eager to share them with you.

If perhaps you had a pension for reading, he would bring back any oddity transcript he had happened to pass along the journey home.

Ironically, while the Flame Pillar is able to elicit the smallest of details from you between honeyed words, and lending an ear, you will find that Rengoku will require some time to open up. Although this will not be as lengthy of a transgression as most of the other hashiras, it’s difficult for Kyojuro to share his vulnerabilities.

It will come, and such topics will be approached in time and naturally. Such as the first time you visit his home, and inquire of his mother, he will express with a distant gaze of her passing. You’ll know when the time to delve deeper will come, but until then, know that it’s not that he is attempting to conceal his past from you rather, he’s worried that it may change your opinion of him.

Dates with Kyojuro would be as diverse as the man himself. Some activities, will be energetic and playful. Implicative of childhood memories, challenging you to catching fireflies in the summer. Playfully daring you to a sparring match, maybe even sumo if the mood strikes him.

Other times, the dates will be intimate. As deep and connected as the conversations he elicits from you. Fingers interlocked, blazing glances. The touch of your footprints etched along the sand as you stroll through the beach with one another. Nights gazing upon the stars, laid along his haori. Snuggled on the veranda as the day wanes, worn out from the hiking expedition he had spirited you away on.

In time, you’ll discover that Rengoku considers your happiness as though it were his own. He will do anything he can to bring the smile to your face, to light up your world whether in small gestures, or grand it does not matter. Whatever crosses his mind, he’s like a puppy eager to please.

Determined to stay at your side when work allows him to do so. Whether this means simply basking in your company while you pursue your passion, or attempting to assist you as you do so if sewing is your joy, you will have to place him in charge of simply handing you needles, he is not adept with thread.

He is so very, eager to please. At times, you may even feel that you are not meeting his expectations. In his over enthusiasm, you may feel rather than the gentle nudge he intended, that you are being shoved down the pursuit. Taking it at an expedited pace than you may prefer.

As with any relationship, this can lead to resentment, or inadequacy between the two of you, and really, he never intended for you to feel negatively. He genuinely wants to support all of your desires and pursuits, so much so, his over eagerness inflicted harm. If you choose to leave it to fester, you are both likely to end up battered and bruised, but should you choose to approach it rather than shy away from it, Rengoku will immediately apologize.

Again, all he ever wanted to do was support you—tell him how you view support that way you desire. A hug after a long day? Will do. A cup of tea while you work, he’s got the pot boiling, hands off, oh gods he will dutifully fight remind himself.

Just be sure to verbally praise his efforts, while he does these acts out of the goodness of his being, he still loves to be praised appreciated.

In fact, Rengoku is so eager to please, that you will discover rather quickly that his over generosity will lead to exhaustion, illness, or burnout. Whichever may come first.

To love the Flame Hashira, is to accept that there will be times in which you will need to fast guard his health, mental, emotional, and physical.

As I’ve already mentioned—he will neglect to do so himself, so this will be a long-term source of frustration for the both of you. One which you will likely have to repeat for years to come. but, it’s why you love him.

Along with the herbal treatments Shinobu will gift you, you will also have to make sure that he has regular interactions with his friends, and reassure him that you will enjoy your night at home, or with your own friends while he does so. He is so prone to prioritizing you, that his other relationships often fall to the waste side.

The gentle reminder, and encouragement to pursue these connections will be greatly appreciated, and do his heart some good. He is after all, a social butterfly. With the verbal reassurance, he will greatly appreciate your attention to his needs.

Don’t worry, he’ll behave regardless of where Tengen’s antics lead him.

When he falls, he falls hard. Like a meteor crashing to earth, embedding the earth’s surface. Permanently carved across the exterior, Rengoku is a goner.

For all that he is willing to give to you, every ounce of his time, his energy, his affections, his very heart, Kyojuro expects the same commitment from you as well.

In love, Rengoku is highly in tune with his partner. He’s able to sense the shifting of moods, of growing needs. He is the ultimate cheerleader, and will always be your side.

Rengoku, as you already know is a family man, and friends are at the center of his universe. Regardless of how dedicated he is to these relationships; he will always ensure that he has time to spend with you.

Just be sure to remind him to engage with others from time to time, he is at risk of getting lost in you. don’t let him lose himself in you.

As a partner, Kyojuro is understanding, and when it comes to understanding your needs, he is quick to adapt. Rather, he has a natural ability to care for those around him, and read the room. Should you have an off day from time to time, he is quick to overlook it as he retains the best version of yourself that he has grown to know.

Eager to please, quick to assist you whether it’s washing dishes, chopping vegetables, hanging the laundry, or even more intensive tasks such as hauling water from the mountains. He thrives with a happy and supportive partner, and as long as he is cared for in the same regards. He will not blink regardless of the requests you make of him.

Rather, one of the most difficult obstacles you are likely to encounter is the Flame Hashira’s inability to relinquish his burdens. While he understands that any part of a healthy relationship is carrying one another’s loads, he struggles with the concept of burdening you with his own.

Far too willing to accept yours as his own, but stubborn to accept your aide. Nor confess his desires for you to offer. Yet, the moment you break through his façade, he will crumble.

Tears that roll through a smile, joyful to have been accepted. To be supported. The child who had to accept the loss of his mother, to care for a small child well beyond his age, and capabilities. The very child who had met nothing but disapproval and rejection, embraced in your support.

Hold him.

You are a source of true joy, and meaning in his life.

It goes without much saying that Rengoku is a very, very protective lover. Alongside his natural desire to shield others, you have garnished a special place in his heart, and he will rise to any threat that pursues you.

A demon, he will stand between you and death. If someone has infringed upon your honor, he will safe guard your reputation without a moment’s notice. Should the situation require it, blows will be traded. He will always, protect you.

Where a lot of the other Hashiras have their difficulties with communication, you will not find this is the case for Rengoku. In fact, it’s rather the opposite.

In the event you yourself struggle with communication; he is quick to adapt. He’s open, and engaging, and if you find your struggling, don’t worry yourself too much. Kyojuro will adapt to suit your communication needs. If you are the type to need space, he’s more than okay with this.

Openly express that you need a moment he still needs the reassurance that your love is his own, and he will happily give you the time you need. If you are a fast talker, well, he is more than capable of matching your speed.

Truly, the only difficulty that you will meet in conveying yourself to one another, is in the event you are jump with loud noises. Remember, he doesn’t necessarily for his voice to boom. It’s his enthusiasm, but with his damaged ear drum, you will find that he’s naturally… loud.

After succumbing to hearing damage with his encounter with the flute demon, he struggles to hear soft voices. Patience, and adaptive communication, you’ll have this sorted out in no time—and your relationship will be better for it.

The first time you utilize this communication (signing), he will gush. To do something such as learn another language for him. he’s melting.

The embrace he will trap you in upon realization of your fingers moving, the words falling between your gestures. It’s going to hurt, snap your spine, and force the air from your lungs, hurt. Mitsuri warned you. He doesn’t mean for it to; he’s just so happy.

The playful, bashful laugh as he runs his fingers through his hair upon realizing how he openly grasped you in public.

While the swordsman is communicative, there will also be points in your relationship where you will notice he has a slight passive aggressive side to him.

His intentions are never to hurt you, but the reality is that Rengoku was not given a lot of opportunities to appropriately navigate tension in relationships. In these moments, you will have to re-center yourself.

Remember your boundaries, and your worth, remember that you love him. Compassion will go a long way with him, and give him space to work through what little thing has set this agitation into play. He really is sorry. He didn’t intend for his jealousy to ebb him that way, and what was such a little thing—he told himself that your attention to the grocer was nothing to concern himself with, and yet, that small piece of him nagged.

Succumbed to his own low self-esteem, and thought, perhaps, maybe you were interested.

While the Flame Hashira is not one to back down from a physical challenge he loves the opportunity to prove his growth as a swordsman, Kyojuro is quick to avoid confrontation in his relationships.

He favors harmony between the two of you, and a majority of the time, will avoid it at all costs. You mean so much to him, he really doesn’t want to fight. He just wants to snuggle.

Yet, disagreements are a natural part of any relationship, and when they rear their ugly heads, he is willing to do just about anything to disperse them as fast as he can. His haste actually puts even the smallest of disagreements at risk of maturing, and infecting, left unresolved over time.

However, as long as he is given the appropriate space, and by which, I mean, you reassure him that he is as valued to you as you are to him, he will rise to the challenge, and face the spat head on.

In reality, Rengoku is one of the Hashira at risk of jealousy. There may be moments where jealousy and low self-esteem fuel tension between the two of you.  

While at times he appears to be the most confident member of the Demon Slayers Corps, the reality is that from time to time, distant whispers of his life will surface. Hushed reminders of doubt, of worthlessness. In these times, he is sensitive to things around him.

Such as another person openly attempting to engage you in flirting. He is mature enough to know that it is not your fault, nor does he intend to burden you with his past but it’s still a part of him.

It’s rare, far and few between that these moments surface, but there will be times in which they are dredged from the depths. At these times, jealousy may follow.

Because of this, it’s important to note that Kyojuro is a loyal partner, and as long as his self-esteem is intended to appropriately, you will find no more a devote partner. Through thick and thin, he will always stand at your side, but should his needs be ignored, he is not validated, and trust break down in the relationship...

I would say that he is at risk of straying outside of your relationship parameters. and he is horribly ashamed for the betrayal

One thing that you will have to understand in moving forward in a relationship with the Flame Hashira, is that Kyojuro places a large importance of continuing on his blood line, and duties.

While it’s true that he is accepting of Senjuro’s rejection of the responsibilities of being a demon slayer, he still feels a source of pride that his brother lives on. Because of this, I believe that Rengoku would want a few children of his own—not that he would ever force them to undertake his position.

Rather, I suspect much like he embraced Senjuro’s break from tradition, he would support the childrens deviation. If in the event one of them did decide to accept  the obligation, I don’t feel that Rengoku would draw special attention to this from the other children.

I suspect that he would boast about ALL of his children’s accomplishments regardless if it were slaying a difficult demon, tending to children of their own, or embarking on their studies. Really, he would just want them to pursue their dreams regardless of what route they may follow, but this does mean, children are in your future.

For Kyojuro, he thrives on words of affirmation. To be openly praised, shamelessly bragged on whether it’s his attention to details, his dutiful physical tasks, or even adoration for him having picked up dinner, he thrives on this attention. It’s the fastest way to ensure that he feels important in your relationship, and treasured.

For the Flame breather, words of affirmation come just as easily as breathing. In fact, he’s quick to disburse his praise, and it takes absolutely no effort on his part.

He will shower you in applaud. Shamelessly declare you the best partner of all, regardless of your surroundings. If this is your love language, you are in luck because he will satisfy every flattery you could ever hope for.

In fact, at times he may go overboard and risk it falling on meaningless applause.

If in the event that it’s not, it’s okay that you’re shy from the private eye. He’ll learn to whisper it in private moments rather than so openly, but it will take some adjusting.

In terms of gift giving, I also see this being a strong suit of his. He has no aversions to physical intimacy, nor shies away from displaying it in public. I suspect that he would be more than content to lay his head in your lap, stare lovingly into your eyes, brush the strands of hair that fall before your eyes behind your ears.

The fire of his desire is not one to stray, but I imagine that he would comfortably the role of physical affections. Fingers interlocked during strolls, and allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder when you are tired.

Although his over enthusiasm for your touch may result in a few moments turning heated. are you really mad though?

The Flame Hashira would also be fairly forth taking with gift giving; his travels for missions have him sprouted all throughout the region, and his overly thoughtfulness will result in him bringing you a wide variety of tokens of affections.

This little kappa reminded him of how you loved to soak in the bath, this flower it’s dead, but it was as beautiful as you in its prime, this bento has your favorite snack in it—you get it.

Where ever he travels, you are always on his mind, and as long as you express your appreciation, he will never hesitate to bring home present after present, after offering of devotion.

He’s giving, overly so. Prepare yourself.

Acts of service is without a doubt, going to be met. As it’s already been expressed, whatever you ask of him, he will more than deliver.

Asked him to bring water down from the mountains? Oh, he did, he also utilized it to wash the laundry, hang it to dry, and utilized the leftover to prepare a warm bath for you.

He is literally a man of service.

Ultimately, I believe the area in which Rengoku would struggle to express his affections is actually in the quality time together department.

It’s not that he doesn’t savor moments with you, he adores the opportunity to have you at his side. However, the Flame Hashira’s determination to serve, leads him to feel that any, ANY small moment can result in restlessness.

He should be doing something. He should fold laundry. He should run you through self-defense drills to ensure you are safe while he is away, he should—his mind struggles to rest. He really and truly, is eager to serve.

SO much so that if your needs rely on quality time spent together, you will have to quiet the doubt of his mind. Reassure him that the extra time in bed together in the late morning, is all you need to be happy.

The reality is, to be in love with Rengoku is to know support. It’s to know devotion, and unwavering loyalty. To have someone always in your corner, always on your side regardless if you are in fact, wrong. It’s to know dedication, and warm smiles. To savor sweet words, as sincere as the heart they blaze from. It’s to know that despite the distances you may face, you are always on his mind. In his heart. To be loved by the Fire Hashira is to know the passion of the heart, of devotion, of the flesh. It’s to know that you are everything to him, your bond as close as destiny itself. To be loved by Kyojuro is to know love, the depths of a flame so smoldered and that the ardor will never be snubbed out. It is to be truly embraced as you are for who you are. A romance secured by soft touches, endless praise, unwavering support in pursuits of joy. To know that you are his joy. To know that he will love you.

Even in death.

In this life.

And the next

#kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku x reader #flame hashira #TheHashirasinaRelationship

[after-witch]

Into the Woods (And Out of the Woods?) (Reader x Fae)

Title:  Into the Woods (And Out of the Woods?) (Reader x Fae)

Synopsis: You wandered a little too deep in the woods. A little too far away from human civilization, and a little too close to something else.

Word Count: 2850

notes: yandere-vibes

You loved the woods.

You loved the woods behind your house, those childhood woods that held memories and secrets and moments that defined you as a person. The time you and your friends cut your palms and rubbed your blood together in a secret pact; the time you got lost and your mother found you, and the smell of her perfume filling your nose when she hugged you so tight you couldn’t breathe; the giggles and whispers as you imagined you were hunting for fairies in those childhood green, wild spaces. 

When you were younger, you used to swear you did see a fairy in the woods once. For real. Not just your imagination, or the secret wish of your heart--but a real-life sighting of something that shouldn’t exist but did. 

Only it wasn’t a pretty little thing wearing a flower dress, sporting two gauzy pink wings that shed glitter. It was something small, and sharp, with dark eyes that glittered with greed. But greed for what, you couldn’t say. Not then. Not when you were so young. 

It had beckoned to you. And for a moment, a horrible, terrible moment, you almost went forward. But you looked down. And there, right where you would have stepped, was a ring of mushrooms. A fairy ring. You knew it for what it was then, because like any child who lived half their life in the woods and sometimes pretended to see fairies, you’d checked out every book the library had on them. And one of the things they did, said the books, was trap humans with fairy circles. If you stepped in one, they’d make you dance. Maybe until you were dead. Maybe not.

You didn’t take the chance. Instead, you’d whirled, and ran. And did it laugh when you ran, heart pounding, breath sharp and cold? It must have.

Your friends didn’t believe you, your family didn’t believe you. In time, the surefire nature of the memory faded, and you thought you must have imagined it as well.

While your love for playing pretend in the woods faded, your love for the actual woods never went away.. 

Perhaps you loved the way it was like an exaggerated, magnified version of your childhood. Adventure, but amplified. More real. You couldn’t run for 15 minutes and make it back home in those parks, no. You could run for hours and still be faced with nothing but trees in any direction. 

Those enormous, expansive patches of nature where you might run into a bear or a moose or simply no one at all for miles and miles and miles. The world seemed freer, there. Free from the noise and stress, free from exhaust pipes backing up into your face, from trucks rattling down the roads, from people shouting on the street.

As soon as you were able, you began to travel the world. National parks and campgrounds and any wild, natural space you might be able to squeeze yourself into. You wanted to experience the world for what it ought to be; with air that smelled of pine and dirt and raw animals. With waterfalls that pounded in the middle of a forest clearing, and not in front of a kitschy mall restaurant. 

Is it any surprise that you began to venture farther and farther off the beaten track? National parks were certainly thrilling if you managed to get far enough away from the tourists, but they were still managed. They were still watched.

And you? You wanted to be alone in these beautiful spaces. 

That’s how you ended up here, in these woods. These wild, wild woods, that were not registered to any park or government agency or campground with a rule list a mile long. They weren’t untouched, of course. Other nature-lovers had made their way into them--you could see the remnants of bolt-cutters on the repaired fence, right before you broke the chains with your own pair. But they were untouched enough that it was extremely unlikely that you would run into anyone.

--

Every hair on your body was standing on end.

The birds, which had been chirping ferociously all morning, had gone quiet with a suddenness that made your heart thump hard in your chest.

And at that same moment, you felt it. The unmistakable sensation of being watched. It was something you’d felt often, in the woods. And why wouldn’t you? There were plenty of animals here. Some dangerous, some not. They were bound to stumble on you sooner or later. That was why you kept bear mace latched to your hip and a knife ready on the other side; though you hoped you wouldn’t ever need to take your chances in a knife fight with a bear. 

It was clear, though. There was something here. 

But what? You glanced around, eyes wary and experienced, looking for signs of bears or mountain lions or wolves; or even something smaller, like a fox. Though, you imagined, foxes weren’t enough to make an entire clearing-worth of birds suddenly find themselves mum.

There was nothing. No signs. No rustling of the leaves. No huffing of breath, no stink of fur. No predator that finally leaped out of the bushes and thrust you into the fight of your life. There was nothing but the silence of the birds, and the awful, cold creeping feeling that something was watching you.

If it wasn’t a bear or wolf or anything you’d come across in your travels before, then…

What was out there? 

“Hello.”

You screamed. An honest-to-goodness scream from your chest, shrill and impulsive and utterly terrified. You whirled at the same time, and your hands fumbled stupidly for your knife.

You were met with the sight of a young man, with fair-hair and dark eyes and long, thin limbs. There was something off about him. You could see that right away. Something a bit too thin, a bit too stretched, a bit too… something. There was an odd sheen to his skin, almost green. It didn’t make him look sick, though. It made him look like he was born out of the forest itself. 

Maybe he was a mirage. Maybe you’d psyched yourself up into thinking something was out there, and being alone for so long, camping, with only yourself to keep company…

He raised his eyebrows as you stared at him and reasoned with yourself that he might not be real, after all. 

“Hello,” he repeated. He didn’t cup his hands over his mouth or wave at you or smile apologetically for scaring you. Instead, he simply stared, as he had been staring, and repeated his greeting.

He really was there.

“H…Hello,” you managed, hand still on the hilt of your knife. You were experienced, you were wary--and you weren’t stupid. “I didn’t hear you coming.” 

And you didn’t, which was the strangest thing. He should have made some noise. The rattle of bear spray against his jacket. But he wasn’t wearing one. Instead, he wore a half-open shirt that was far too gauzy and thin for the weather. Okay. If not that, then, you should have heard the jingling of bells on his backpack--but oh, now you noticed, he didn’t have one at all.

Well, the crunch of the ground underfoot, then.  Surely. But when you glance down, you realize he’s not wearing shoes.

Maybe he lived in the woods, and you were encroaching on his territory. That didn’t bode well. Anyone living out here, off the grid, in any type of permanent situation… he might be hiding from the law. Or something else.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” you said, keeping your voice sweet and airy; it was hardly any trouble, considering how breathless you felt. “I’ll be going now.”

He stepped forward.

His feet, you realized, were not only bare--they were perfectly clean. And like the rest of him, they had the strangest of shimmers. Almost green, almost like nature itself was squirming under his skin.

“Oh, don’t go,” he said, tone becoming thinner, almost petulant. “Did I scare you?” 

“No,” you said, lying through your teeth. “I’d just like to go.”

“Please stay,” he said, wheedling. He had a thin smile on his face, and he just kept walking, step by step. But there was no sound underneath his feet. There should have been. He walked over leaves and branches. Yet there was nothing at all.

“You can come with me,” he said. “Why don’t you?” 

Your stomach twisted and your mind felt strangely blank as you tried to process the situation and make a decision. Should you run? But you got the idea, if you ran, that you might be lost in a way that was impossible to fix. You don’t know why you thought that, but you did, and it kept your legs from simply sprinting. 

He was close now. And when you looked up in his eyes, you suddenly felt childhood squirming its way out of your heart and pushing past your ribs.

Because his eyes. His eyes. They were dark and deep and just like the eyes of that thing you saw so long ago. The thing you swore was real, before everyone--and time--convinced you otherwise. 

The thing that beckoned you to follow.

“What is your name?” He asked. 

And you knew, fully and completely. You knew he wasn’t human. You knew that these woods were like the woods of your childhood, where secret and dark things loved to dwell. Only you couldn’t run home, because home was too far; only mom couldn’t come get you, because your mother was dead.

You could drag up those childhood books, the pages with ribbon bookmarks and paintings of fairies, young and old, dark and kindly, dangerous and mischievous. What did the books say to do, when you were confronted by a fairy? Don’t thank them, don’t apologize, don’t… give them your name.

“I won’t give you my name,” you said. 

He quirked his head at you, a little jerkily. 

“Why not?”

“You can trap me, if you have my name.” You thought about that thing in the woods so long ago, and the fairy ring. You glanced down then, making sure there wasn’t one laying about. 

And ridiculously, you thought: When I get out of here, I am going to write my childhood library a note, thanking them for their service.

He laughed. It was a beautiful sound, like wind chimes. It made you want to come closer to him, but you forced yourself to stay put.

“How smart you are,” he cooed. “How wise, how brave…”

He was handsome, and the words came out thick and sweet. Honey. 

Something in you flushed at the praise, despite yourself. Yes, well,  you were smart, weren’t you? You didn’t fall for his traps. You weren’t pulled in, unwary, by the sweetness of his face or the depth of his gaze. You were wise, and brave, brave because you didn’t simply bolt into a run. If you had run, you thought, you probably would have ended up lost entirely.

“Your mother would be proud, if she were alive,” he continued, in that same sweet tone. But at his words, you froze.

Your mother was dead. And he knew. Did he guess? Or did he know, somehow, some innate ability to understand you in ways a stranger shouldn’t?

“I…” you said, hesitating. “I guess she would. I hope she would be.” 

You took a step back. You thought about your knife, or your bear spray--but what good would that do, if he was something else? 

“Oh, yes,” he agreed, drawing himself nearer. At the sight of your anxious furrowed brow, he held up his hands, and slowly lowered himself onto a tree stump several feet away. “I only wish to sit near you, honeybee, and rest my legs. Is that what your mother called you? Honeybee?” 

You shook your head and couldn’t help but smile, just a little. “No, she never called me that.”

He tapped his lips in playful thought. “Let me guess! I like guessing games.” He kicked his legs a little, and your mind couldn’t help but wander to childhood fairy tales in gold-pressed pages. Fairies, those books always said, loved games. 

“I really should be going.” Yet a smile was on your lips even as you protested. He really was quite silly. You tried, for a moment, to imagine him making someone dance to death. Or stealing away their youth, or exchanging their baby and whisking away a human in its place, or all the other dark-edged things people said fairies did. It was hard to do. 

“Oh, just stay for a moment, lamb.” His expression brightened, as if he’d just gotten the most wonderful idea. “That’s it, isn’t it? Lamb! She called you lamb.”

You grinned and shook your head. “No, that isn’t even close.”

He pouted. An honest-to-goodness pout. He cupped his chin with his hand and hummed. “Let me think… sweetie? Pumpkin? Dreamer? Doll?” 

You shook your head again, and again, and again, and again

“I wasn’t much of a dreamer when I was little.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Or a doll.” 

He regarded you with a smile that looked a little sad. “You’re a dreamer now, aren’t you, dove?” He clapped his hands. “Ah! Is that it? Did she call you dove? Little dove? Sweet dove?”

“No,” you said, with some wistfulness in  your tone. “She didn’t like birds.” And it was true. You remembered, vaguely, that she’d been attacked by one as a child and the fear stuck right through adulthood. 

He quirked his head to the side, and it was such a cute gesture that you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Oh, yes!” And he sat so primly and listened intently to your recounting of your mother’s childhood Bird Incident, which must have been nothing to him, really. But he listened and laughed, all the same. And it felt nice. It made you feel like perhaps it wasn’t so bad, to sit here and talk with him, after all. Maybe you’d read him wrong. Maybe you’d been paranoid. What would he want with you, anyway? And it wasn’t like he could take you, not without you making some terrible mistake. 

And you weren’t going to do something like that. 

“I liked that story,” he said, a kind smile on his face. “It makes you smile when you talk about your mother. I much prefer that expression on you, my dumpling.” Then his back straightened. “That’s it!” he said, with a note of purring triumph in his voice. It made you think about the queen who guessed the name of the strange man who spun her straw into gold in exchange for a ring, a necklace--and then her first born child. “That must be what she called you. Dumpling. I’m right. Oh,” he looked up at you with an expression of almost pathetic joy. “Tell me I’m right!” 

“No,” you said, murmuring, thinking of your mother’s long-gone smile and the dusty smell of her rose perfume and everything else that went with her when she died. “Not that, either.”

 Maybe it was all her memories stirred up in her heart, maybe it was the sight of his pitiful pout, as if he’d truly thought he was going to guess right this time. You don’t know what it was, exactly. But you continued. 

“She didn’t like nicknames. She just called me…” And your name spilled from your lips, thoughtless and unthinking. 

You didn’t realize what you’d done until he grinned. 

And oh, how he grinned. How his pitiful pout turned into something like a satisfied knife. He grinned a beautiful smile with teeth that sharpened at the edges. Teeth that might rip through human flesh, hungry and soiled red. Teeth that might graze the edge of a delicate neck, giving the body underneath it goosebumps, as hands and lips wander.

Teeth that caught your eye now, as he approached.

You should run. The thought hummed through you, but didn’t matter. You couldn’t run. Because the moment he grinned, you felt your body growing heavy and tired. Your eyes blinked, desperate to stay away, desperate to leave. But you could do nothing but stand, almost swaying, as he  pulled you into his arms and drew you close.

“No,” you whimpered, feeling both young and stupid all in one terrible blow. “I didn’t--I didn’t mean to. You tricked me… You tricked--”

He hushed you, lithe fingers brushing over your lips, cheeks, feeling your skin, your hair, everything that you were.

He said your name. It sounded sweet and rich in his mouth. Like he owned it and planned to keep it in a velvet box in his pocket. 

“If that was what your mother called you,” he whispered, lips pressed against your clammy skin. “Then that is what I shall call you, too.” 

Weightless, you could not protest.

You could do nothing but feel your eyelids growing impossibly heavy as the world around you turned sideways and shifted, until you didn’t know where you were--or how you would ever get back. 

#yandere #yandere fae #folklore writing #afterwitch writes #original stuffs

[yerion]

jeon jungkook being perfect was a fact you could vouch for; up until he appeared to church without his dear fiancée and his chocolate coloured eyes that delineated so much kindness. the question is—why is it just you noticing his sinister differences?

pairing : jungkook x you (as jia). au(s) : vampire!jungkook, forced roommates!au, enemies to lovers!au. genres : dark romance, mutual pining, slowburn, angst, innuendos of suggestive themes.

content : you tear down jungkook’s fake front of being the most generous soul without knowing he’s an attractive yet menacing curse who lived for way too long. on days you want him to vanish, you sway at his sickly charms—and so does he.

your relationship with jungkook tied into a playlist.

next chapter. chapter directory. masterlist.

chapter one.

word count : 4,6k.

“do you know of the man that lived here?”

here, the woods surround trees that must have been long forgotten before this investigation. brutal winds destroyed all nature’s roots, and no single soul can underestimate the darkness that could be held within. it’s the obnoxious flashlights at this time of night that’s disrupting the normalcy of this forest, but apart from that, nothing would.

this place is so dark—to the point it’s terrifying when you observe closely, but why is it only now you realise this? how come you didn’t recognise the fear behind the cover earlier, especially when you’ve been here… countless times?

“let me change the question,” the policeman continues to interrogate sternly, “how did you find this place?”

with a shaky breath stuck on your throat, you squeeze your eyes shut to collect yourself. in this moment for you too, it’s dark—exactly like the outside world—the place jeon jungkook used to shield you from.

“please cooperate with our investigation.”

“i—” you suddenly stop the second you feel a harsh thrashing in your chest. as if your heart is struggling for survival, knocking against your ribcage without knowing how much damage and havoc it’s causing, it slowly burns you, and the pain starts to radiate from your chest to the bottom of your feet—like you’re rooted to a pool of lava.

“call the ambulance!” the policeman’s voice is faint now, like it’s further in the distance.

then, a deafening ringing finds your ear, suppressing all noise outside. the high pitched noise living in your ear draws nearer, and when it does, the sound becomes more unbearable as the decibel gradually climbs uncontrollably. 

it hurts.

it hurts like crazy.

your ears are on the verge of bursting while there’s a burning pain blossoming in your chest that’s spreading all across your body like poison.

what is this?

what’s happening?

why now?

with eyes at rest, you hear an unexpected gift—fine rain dropping down silvery and small, pattering against the dirt as umbrellas snap shut in the background of nature. petrichor—the perfume made of rain and the earth flourishes in the air, so you inhale through your nose and relax the muscles in your hands.

“jia!” 

you turn your head at the voice that bent your reality in half. the picture your eyes grasp is an old childhood friend of yours, waving frantically in front of the gated cathedral. much time hasn’t passed since you exited from today’s mass, but as for your friend, he just happened to walk out now—in which you assume that he’s the last one out this afternoon.

“hey!” jimin exclaims, brushing through his hair instinctively as he comes. his hair was blonde last week, but today, it’s dark as ever. he does tend to shine the most in his natural colour. “you tossed those crutches away pretty quickly.” 

“i never wanted them to begin with.”

“at least tell me you’re not actually dismissing medical advice.”

“i’m not.”

“are you sure?”

“i’m sure!”

“how sure?”

“what am i, a problem child?” you shake your head as you wiggle your right ankle for a show. the bandage clinging against your ankle loosens once again, but you’ve dealt with it enough to possibly care for it immediately.  “i want to live peacefully and kindly. to do that, i should take care of myself.”

“wait a minute,” jimin dramatically covers his mouth. “you’re actually capable of having such thoughts?”

“thanks to my beautiful mother and father, i’ve been taught many good things.” with your lips firmly pursed, you nod at least five times in fast forward.

“and pat your own shoulder for teaching yourself to hang tight.” jimin suddenly becomes serious, seeing his eyes soften as he inhales a slow breath. “i was worried to death when this all happened to you.”

“just a reminder for you, my friend—this is a minor injury.” you mumble, “i’m sure you know that as a dancer yourself—that this is totally normal.”

“this isn’t your first time, jia.” jimin articulates. “the problem is that it’s recurring.”

“if that was really a huge problem, i would be more worried than you right now.” you coo while leaning forward, arms behind your back. “think about it, jimin.”

“you’re not the reliable, trustworthy type.” jimin quips. “how unlucky for you.” he steals the chance to flick you on the forehead, in which you immediately wince, bouncing back at the pain. “that’s for you to pay extra attention to yourself!” he warns playfully. 

before you can smile and reassure your beloved friend that it’s truly normal to break down sometimes, you suddenly feel a crisp wind harshly slice your bare skin, naturally causing you to swallow the words you had in mind. 

soon, the sky snaps into a heavier torrent of rain. blue is nowhere to be seen, only dull greyness painted across the heavens. each drop crackles; smacking down onto soil and concrete. the outside looks like it’ll drench you within seconds, especially after seeing that the downpour has no pause.

“did you hear that jeon jungkook funded the church with a generous amount again today?” unbothered by god’s work as she seems, mrs. na gossips loudly to the crowd.

“that young man sure does give out a lot of money.”

“i heard that he owns properties!”

“i heard he’s born in a very rich family.” one woman gasps exaggeratedly, slapping the shoulder of the other lady in her forties who’s also invested in this effusive debate.

“with that young brain of his, he’s probably making good investments unlike my husband wasting all of his money!” 

“his fiancée is also rich!” mrs. kim exclaims obliviously. “that explains why they’re considering marriage at such a young age!”

you and jimin eye each other telepathically. he raises an eyebrow of his and you simply shrug your shoulders wordlessly since there’s only room for one conversation. however, feeling randomly magnetised, you and jimin remain still in your places to listen in on details—because even to the younger audience, jeon jungkook is a bit of a paradox.

though not completely debunked, you’ve heard that jeon jungkook crazily wealthy at the pretty age of 25. it’s no doubt he owns a few properties, but no one dares to ask if all that’s inherited or if it’s from meticulous calculations manufactured inside his head.

“the marriage is purely driven by my affection towards her.” just by hearing his deep, breathy voice, you could tell with eyes closed and back turned that he’s chuckling at the rather stereotypical emphasis.

“oh, jungkook!” mrs. kim exclaims enthusiastically yet awkwardly. she’s been caught in the act, but by a person who still smiles at her despite all the talking she’s done. “how is everything going for you?”

you see jungkook nodding beside his fiancée—nakamura kazuha. “great.” he peers down, smiling warmly at the eyes shot towards his existence. “only a shame since there’s never enough time to thank each and one of you.”

“goodness!” mrs. kim blooms into a loud laughter as she slaps the woman beside her in excitement. “how did your parents raise you so well!” she exclaims, openly eyeing the lady who has her arm linked with hers. 

“i wonder!” the lady next to mrs. kim—mrs. gu, also mimics her laughter as if commanded. “are your parents living in korea?”

“not at the moment.” jungkook says. “they live somewhere else since they dislike our winter.”

“is that so?” another lady—a name you totally forgot, casually chirps into the conversation.

“and… hm?” jungkook leans his ear closer to kazuha’s lips to listen to her closely. he’s trying to finish the sentence for her as it seemed to be relevant to his story about his parents. “right, they also did say they prefer food outside of korea.” he smiles differently at the detail she remembered—you could tell that smile is exclusive for his lover, judging by how corny it is. 

“you two are like newlyweds.” mrs. gu chuckles heartily. “did you say that kazuha is a ballerina?”

at mrs. gu’s last word, you feel jimin’s gaze plastered onto you. it’s not like her words were particularly laced with honey and glaze, but to you—especially—is unfortunately a soft trigger.

“is she?” mrs. kim gasps loudly like a cog clicked in her head. “our lovely jia is also a ballerina!” she turns her head in hopes of searching for someone that definitely looks like… you. “jia, sweetheart, come over here!”

heat crawls up into your body the moment you feel gazes piercing into you like arrows. a breath of nervousness was at the tip of your tongue until jimin shoves you airily, encouraging you to take a leap out of your sustained introverted personality.

“mrs. kim,” you smile helplessly at the unwanted attention in your spot. honestly, you feel even worse about it because you know how eager everyone was to hear more about jeon jungkook and his prosperities under magnification.

“come introduce yourself!” mrs. kim gestures to you to approach.

“mrs. kim!” you answer joyously like you were summoned out of absolutely nowhere. in fact, you decide to forget that you were eavesdropping this entire time with your childhood best friend. “how can i help?” you act obliviously the second you join their open, incomplete circle of people. you stand tall while subconsciously tensing your weaker ankle—at least in here, you desperately didn’t want to stumble over yourself.

jungkook offers his hand out to you. “forgive my lateness, but it really is a pleasure to meet you.” he breathes out, “my name is jungkook.”

this guy is outrightly handsome, almost prince-like with his soft, wavy strands framing his face. it’s either he takes style as one of his valuable coins or he’s dressed fittingly for the environment because his hair is sculpted, which can only be created with meticulous effort. the middle of his forehead is visible unlike jimin’s, but his hair falls in a much more intentional way with obvious complexity. his masculinity is preserved, if not, it’s actually enhanced. aside from that, most of his features are round, which should naturally attract smiles, but he’s still inevitably intimidating—like every prince in a fairytale. his choice of a pale blue button up shirt interests you further, simply because the guys you’ve run into so far would prefer monochromatic pieces. park jimin, for instance, would refuse to stand near such a gentle and graceful colour.

“not late at all.” you smile coolly as you take his hand. however, momentarily, you pause—you’re aware that you should be shaking his hand as per etiquette, but it was almost impossible to dismiss his cold temperature. your poker face is a massive failure alone anyway. 

“jia,” jungkook murmuring his thoughts loudly to himself hangs you off guard. not only did he ask for your name, but it’s the entracing way his voice suddenly dipped so low to roll your name off his tongue.

anyway.

“and kazuha,” you try your best to pronounce her name decently. “it’s nice to meet you.” 

“me too.” kazuha replies concisely in an accent. then, she quickly retreats to whisper to jungkook in japanese. kazuha mentions ballet as she looks fixedly onto you.

“kazuha says she’s a fan.” jungkook says. “i hear your achievements in the world of ballet are extremely impressive, especially since it hasn’t been long since you started dancing. am i on the right track, miss prodigy?”

flustered, your hands are the first to act—you wave both hands frantically, dismissing all bluff about achievements and prodigies. “i didn’t think you could be this dramatic.” you shake your head like you’ve been fooled. “but really, you’re exaggerating! it’s not much, i’ve still got a journey ahead.”

“being a principal ballerina with a handful of wins is news.”

“and contributing to the church with such a generous amount of money isn’t?”

“well,” he clicks his tongue in revelation before breaking into a grin; his eyes squeeze shut in a rather cute way. “a skilled performer like yourself should know the spotlight isn’t something to share.”

“she’s a cheeky girl.” mrs. na divulges with the intent of being sentimental. from what you recall, mrs. na has been a close friend of your parents for countless years. your six-year-old memories tell you so.

“that’s definitely another name added to the list for her.” jungkook jests, and the friendly, middle-aged bystanders all chuckle at his wit. not to mention, you’re quite pleased with his demeanour as well—and it’s literally only been a few minutes.

“if i could choose, please keep in mind i’d much prefer the latter.” you backtrack with a series of unserious coughing. 

jungkook reciprocates your limited humour with a handsome smile. “i’ll be sure to send my greetings when kazuha and i see you around next weekend.”

“same goes for me.” you return the profound smile, genuinely pleased with your interaction with the infamous couple. it almost makes you think the world is unfair since they really did happen to be quite perfect as imagined by others.

“are you two heading off now?” mrs. kim asks.

“only because we might crash into our booking if we leave any later.” jungkook replies politely. you can see that he doesn’t like to leave any room for misunderstandings. 

“just be careful out there, the rain is still heavy.” mrs. na advises sweetly. “the road will be slippery.”

“i’ll keep an extra eye out.”

“that reminds me,” mrs. na looks at you whilst wearing a worried guise. her eyebrows are furrowed and both corners of her lips have sunk—you find her endearing because she never fails to be readable. “do you have a way home, jia?”

right.

about that.

you’re a fascinating human being for not thinking about your way back home after witnessing how fierce and deranged the weather is as of this moment. even right now, it’s still an uncanny flurry and battle of the wind and the rain. speak about dark, and today would be the finest example for the science and art of meteorology. 

“isn’t your car still under repair?” 

“until tomorrow!” you squeak optimistically; rather unfitting for this ambience. the adults all retain gazes brimmed with concern while the weather is insensibly loud. “jimin is waiting around somewhere, we’ll leave together when the rain settles.” you propose a lie constructed on the spot.

“jimin left not too long ago!” mrs. kim waves her finger to the car park. “you should’ve seen him accelerate out of this rain like a simpleton.” 

gritting your teeth behind a forced smile, you sigh short and heavily to yourself. you know this guy busted out of here because he’s itching to dance for his next competition. lucky for him, since his house is nearby. you decide to think about how to repay your best friend with a taste of revenge maybe a bit after you deal with this old-fashioned situation everyone at least finds themselves entwined at least once or twice in their lives.

“did he?” you chuckle nervously. “i recently found this application on my phone and it finds a taxi for you in minutes—no, seconds!”

“where are you headed?” jungkook tilts his head in curiosity. “the restaurant we’re headed to is further away, so i’d say there is a chance we’d pass by your suburb.”

“oh my, how good!” mrs. na exclaims, now clapping at ease. “would you do that—”

“i don’t know,” you widen your eyes at mrs. na, hoping she gets the message you’re desperately trying to send her. “how big of a chance would that be?” your question is for jungkook, but your dilated eyes are still openly aimed at mrs. na.

“potentially quite big, i think!” mrs. na clasps her hands against yours; her warmth consuming you as whole. “she lives in gangnam, somewhere next to station exit 9.”

“come with us,” jungkook suggests. “we’re going past gangnam.”

“if it’s too much trouble—”

“it’ll reassure us too.” jungkook insists determinedly. “shall we?” he cocks his chin towards the roofed car park and nods to comfort you once more for the long run.

without much going on in this car full of acquaintances, it’s predestined that the silence within provokes focus onto the thoughts clouding your mind. truth be told, it’s not the relapse jimin mentioned that’s submerging your head with negativity. 

it’s all about your coach who reached out yesterday. 

utter anticipation possessed her voice when she asked if you were recovering under the safest conditions. strangely, you felt desperate to enlighten her about your progress; your heart clenched a lie and called it a miracle when you spoke optimistically about your recovery rate. you delivered false hopes, simply because you discovered a new fear to not shatter the illusions for this person you look up to.

consequently, you agreed to compete in europe in a few months time—and you knew, deep within—that this would be your last time.

“is something bothering you?” 

you get startled by the sweetness of his voice, “it’s nothing.” 

“is that a habit?”

“what is?”

“nothing.” jungkook repeats softly after you. perhaps he finds it amusing he picked up on a detail so quickly, a grin naturally fixes his still lips. “you said it once earlier.”

“maybe.” a chuckle leaves your mouth after some thought. 

“do you live alone?” he asks nonchalantly when he makes a smooth left turn with one hand of his. he becomes alert of his fiancée dozing off peacefully in the passenger’s seat when she sways faintly at his movement. “i have a feeling you do.” he guesses afterward.

“what makes you think that?” humming, you narrow your eyes into the front view mirror. jungkook has been peering up into the mirror whenever he exchanges words with you. “do i look too miserable heading back home?” 

“it’s not that, but i was hoping someone at home would distract you from those thoughts of yours.”

you smile to yourself. “is that how i have to start thinking in order to be so successful?” 

“you’re great as you are.”

“nowhere prince-like though, so i’m not too sure.”

“is that your attempt to tease?” as expected, jungkook flicks his eyes upward, causing both of your eyes to meet. like yours, hints of mischievousness hide behind his eyes too.

“it’s a misunderstanding,” you pronounce each word in a whisper, “your highness.”

“i beg to differ.” 

you stifle a chuckle as you watch raindrops rolling down the window beside your visage. you absentmindedly let your fingertips chase each droplet running down the glass until your eyes accidentally make eye contact with jungkook in the front view mirror again, except in complete silence. when you roll your eyes over in hopes of escaping his eyes, jungkook triggers the blinker and makes another turn.

“so,” you clear your throat as if nothing ever happened. “how did you meet kazuha?” tapping your fingertip against your thigh instead of the window now, you slant forward, glancing over at the sleeping beauty in the passenger’s seat in envy.

one corner of jungkook’s lips curls upward. “on the day she came to visit korea for the first time all by herself, she was asking for directions when she was already there. she asked where this café was when she happened to walk past it twice.” taking his eyes off the road for a few seconds, he turns to kazuha next to him. “i knew she’d be on my mind for the rest of the day after that. i found myself wondering if she made it back home or if she found a place to eat dinner.” 

“i knew you were the one to approach her first.” you murmur while rolling your eyes to the side with the clear intent of avoiding jungkook’s eyes.

jungkook elicits a breathy laughter. “please don’t forget that i’m the person steering this wheel.”

you bob your head amusedly. “of course.”

“how about you?” jungkook inquires when he begins to press on the brake gradually. the car drifts to a stop, and you only notice now that you’re in the vicinity of your neighbourhood. “do you have someone special to you?” by pressing his elbow against the armrest between the two seats in front, he’s able to turn his head to watch you out.

“not someone, but something.” you remark confidently. “thank you for the ride, i really appreciate it.” hands already hovering above the car handle, you lower your head to a considerable degree to express your gratitude towards him first.

“we’re glad to help.” jungkook smirks ambiguously. something about his grin this time makes your head tilt, but you have no idea why. “stay away from the cold and get home safe.”

the weekend, and now the weekday—monday. the world is back and running again. in the bustling city of seoul, there are adults scurrying to meet the standards of unsparing office hours, teenagers stopping by at the convenience store before taking the next bus to school, mothers accompanying their children to daycare for the sake of themselves making it to their workplace as well; whether it’s at a mundane office crowded with malicious or cordial co-workers, a repetitive hospital cascading with pessimism—and needless to say, other imaginable work environments.

you avert your eyes back onto the road, feeling as though you’ve been staring for longer than anticipated. the red light flickers off as your attention returns, and you swiftly make a turn into a campus you’re familiar with.

established in the backstreets of nowon-gu, there hides a compact yet modern university funded by prosperous graduates of the school. the newly revamped design of the building was developed by one of the aforementioned students. its exterior—seems to be highly inspired by ancient greek. a single glance, and there’s gigantic pillars in arrays, marble stones smelted in the ground and walls. however, its interior—is the definition of futurism. fitted with this era’s advanced technology and stylish furniture bestowing the lecture halls and libraries, it’s undoubtedly a desirable look anywhere.

the business you have here is simply for the dance studio, since you did sign up for your own downfall whilst blatantly ignoring the rehabilitation period of your ankle that acts as your lifeline in this career. but—behold, on the more colourful side, you think your ankle feels even better today; alleviated from tension, you’ve been stepping on the brake and accelerator marvellously today. pretty much most of its function is back.

(you’re not gaslighting yourself.)

“alright,” cheeks puffed, you blow out some air in nervousness. upon parking your car in the corner, you carefully exit the car by planting both feet simultaneously onto the ground. you almost hop out to ensure that your weight doesn’t collapse against one side. “see, see, see!”

(and this is you being overly dramatic.)

just like that, you follow your usual route to the dance studio. as your eyes capture nature kissed by the sun today, you realise the heavy rain completely subsided. it’s as if nothing ever happened and it was an abrupt outroar from the heavens—in which, you can totally relate to. god wasn’t the only person going through absurdity yesterday.

tossing your annoying long hair behind your shoulder, you take your time admiring the landscape of youth. if you witnessed busy and distressed adults working in black and white earlier in the morning—at this time, you see lively students marching to their first lecture of the day. some are alone, unbothered while mouthing to their favourite music; some are cracking up into shrieking laughter at one another’s jokes related to their incidents during the weekend; some are couples making a fuss about how cute they are in the second hour into their awakening. 

and… there’s someone awfully distinct out in the distance.

a taller, broader and sturdier build—a man—of course, people like that do unfortunately captivate you occasionally but you could swear on everything you have—he’s someone you’ve seen.

who? 

there’s something about him that screams at you—like the fact that he’s not passing off as a student… or a professor. he’s dressed too finely for a student, and he’s too young to be a professor. 

in his teal silk shirt free of creases tucked under his black jeans, the man whips around to make one decisive turn to your right—and in that moment, too much starts to compute into your head. if your mind could make noises, it’d all be static.

to the right is a conference hall—one of the biggest, and is usually used by students studying anatomy. from what you remember, it has the projector updated with the latest resolution to help identify details in the human body. 

and his side profile tells all—his appearance isn’t easy to forget, but also, it’s only been a day since you’ve seen him. your memory is fresh as ever.

how?

did he move here recently? 

when did he start coming to church again?

it’s been less than two months, and to organise everything—does it take around two months to find a job? is he even working here? what if he’s just a visitor?

why does all of that matter to you?

shaking your head in denial, an anxious chuckle leaks out of your mouth. “come on,” you babble mindlessly to yourself. “he drove you home in the rain, so you can literally buy the guy a coffee to repay him.”

hold on.

where the hell did he go?

you don’t remember lifting your gaze. even if that was the case, you’re isolated—you’re in a position where you can discern all, only because the dance studio is on the polar opposite of all lecture halls.

you huff, “is he a vampire or what—” 

“what a lovely morning, jia.”

what… in the world?

there it is—that feeling; it’s the exact feeling you felt when he dropped you off yesterday. his words sink into you like needles, and you’re completely aware of how peculiar this is. all you can think of is that grin existing with the complete switch up in his voice.

mystified, you slowly turn around to meet his eyes. you acquire a dim glimpse of a few piercings on his ear that you didn’t notice yesterday. it wouldn’t seem as suspicious to you if they were ordinary piercings the pretty celebrities get, but his are a little avant-garde; a visual heavy street wearers would be entertained by—you don’t know why such a thorough analysis feels necessary whenever you see him, but it comes so naturally.

interestingly, that’s the only change too—the piercings.

just that.

“jungkook,” you smile indifferently. “i’m really surprised to catch you here.”

“likewise.”

“i assume you work here?”

“today’s my first day.” jungkook says—and just that. 

“as a… professor?” you guess the odds nonetheless, simply because nothing else connects the dots. you’re still certain he’s not here as a student.

“not exactly.” jungkook hasn’t smiled. “i’ve been assigned to opening anatomical lectures for those who were absent, missed out, or needed additional teaching.”

everything is out of place.

your suspicion starts to feel real because he’s unquestionably acting out of character as well. the jeon jungkook you—no, everyone else knows—wouldn’t be permitting silence to consume the air this easily, at least not without questions that make it seem like he’s genuinely amused. because, in reality, you thought he was a smart guy who’s aware of the value behind open-ended relationships.

“always trust your instinct.” the senior police officer advised softly. she was smiling in kindness like she always has—eyes crinkled into shapes of endearing crescent moons, soft wrinkles grooved into her cheeks with a short, cute smile made by her imperfectly painted red lip.

“you’re just full of surprises, jungkook.”

what a plot twist you are.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfics #jungkook fanfiction #bts #bts x you #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts fanfics #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #bts jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfics #kpop fanfiction #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #kpop scenarios #jungkook x oc #bts x oc

[ftafp]

Protip: If you ever get burned out on the awfulness of the world, try to imagine it filtered through the perspective of a bronze age peasant

We live in an age of wizards, where even the poorest beggars are lettered scholars, and the violet robes of kings can be bought with a few hours of a commoner's daily wage. Steel horses gallop past on hooves made of tree gum, upon stone roads that rise into sky like tangled ribbons or nests of snakes.

Near every man, woman and child owns a magic mirror of polished obsidian. It feeds them with visions and songs of distant lands and times, and carries within a library greater than that of alexandria. and they are only the product of a thousand other wonders. Its face is made of crystal orbs which glow like the sun, shone through rubies emeralds and sapphires that are said to flow like liquid while still a gem. Its brain is a magic circle made of polished copper, decorated all around with lightning runes carved in tiles of clay. They say these eat lightning released by burning dragon bezoars and blood, or from metals from tartarus that radiate hellfire and plague

There are other lands beyond here the likes of which can't be fathomed. Though they are distant they must be seen to be believd.

beneath the waves lies a world both beautiful and dying. In cities of coral the octopodes live, using magic to take the forms of forests, fish and sand. There are deep valleys where darkness weighs as much as a mountain. Hideous monsters dwell in this darkness, using dim lights to spring their trap. The gods of the fish drift across the sky of this world. To approach when they are singing causes one to die and stream blood from their ears. When gods do die their titanic corpses rain from the heavens, and from their flesh the fish carve their cities

Off in the south their is a great sea of trees, it is a vast battlefield both above and below. In one men lead menageries of of steel beasts to carve away at this ocean, bearing swords powered by dragon blood which have grown sharp, gnashing teeth. beneath their feet tiny battle companies of six-legged men ride battle each other in black plate armor, and use not swords but their fangs. These tiny soldiers are said to have no minds of their own. instead a queen thinks for them, and leads them to fight with her perfumes

There are still farther lands men have not yet seen among the stars. celestial spheres of endless skyies that rain diamonds and acid and rivers of metal rush molten unbidden through dead worlds, and great clouds sparkle, in colors human eyes cannot see

This world is horrible, wonderful, awful and beyond description. One only needs to remember it for the wonder that it is.

#fantasy #magepunk #bronze age #retrofuturism #marine biology #whales #ants #computers #electronics #wizardposting #space #astronomy

[wellpresseddaisy]

And Wishing I Was Gone, Going Home

Rather belated, but for the 4th prompt, Home.

His mother never told him magic had a smell.

She’d taught him so many things in their shabby kitchen in Cokeworth, but not that. He’d thought it her perfume, the subtle scent of petrichor and stormy seas that hovered about her, even on days it didn’t rain.

And girls like Lily, well they just smelled nice, didn’t they? She made him think of the first warmer days in spring and those little violets that sweetened the breezes.

He never noticed it on the train, too excited and then too annoyed to smell anything. It wasn’t until much, much later that he realized his housemates each had their own distinctive scent that grew stronger when they cast. Most of them he didn’t have names for until he’d had more experience in the world.

Some of them made him sneeze terribly, like Gareth Abernathy. Looking back, he felt a bit bad that Gareth had to be moved to a different dormitory, but it was either that or Severus moving. Lucius and the other prefects came out of that dorm grim-faced. They never told him what the boys said they’d do if Severus was the one moved.

Even Lucius didn’t know about his…talent. Something told him to keep it to himself. It gave him an edge, once he learned to navigate all the scents coming at him in a day. He nearly always smelled James Potter (grassy, overlaid with something too, too sweet) before he saw him.

He should have known the first time he met the Dark Lord that he couldn’t be trusted. His magic smelled of decay and dust, like the inside of a tomb. It crawled into Severus’ sinuses and stayed there, a constant reminder. Why had he pledged himself to that? He smelled like the darkest of the dark books in the Malfoy library, the ones Lucius pulled him away from with a sharp,

“I catch you near those again, my lad, and I’ll wallop you myself.”

His mark smelled the same way, blooming horribly every time Voldemort found something pleasing. He found it a small mercy that he carried the mark only a year or so before…before soft spring and tiny violets were ripped forever from the world.

The decay kept returning, though. Faintly, faintly he’d smell it through the next decade. He hoped, but he knew one day it would return as strong as ever.

He knew the Potter child would play a part in whatever came the first day of class. To see him snickering with the latest Weasley after Draco’s hours-long diatribe on Potter refusing his hand…he wasn’t sure if the headache or the mere existence of another Potter set his teeth on edge more.

Potter…Potter’s magic smelled of the green new growth in a forest. The underlay of it, though, stopped Severus in his tracks. Frankincense and myrhh, the scent of one laid to rest. He knew. In that moment he knew it would be Potter to end the Dark Lord’s reign, whenever it came.

He never knew how he made it through the years of waiting, always on guard, decay floating at the very edge of his senses. The return…that was almost a relief.

Something tickled his nose. Sandalwood and leather and warm feathers. He shifted and…bedlinen? Would his earthly torment never end?

That last night in the Shack…he’d known. Known it would come one day. Some part of the universe must have cared, because he closed his eyes the last time smelling not decay but the clean, astringent wash of frankincense and myrhh.

-------------------

He breathed in, his chest caught on searing pain.

“Lie still, you ridiculous brat. Cissa’s been up three days keeping you from popping your cogs. If you destroy her hard work then we’ll certainly have words.”

Lucius. He’d know that scent and that supercilious drawl anywhere. And…sweet, clean lavender wafted over him.

Narcissa.

“She’s asleep, finally. You should also be asleep, as a hint.”

He managed an interrogative sort of noise.

Lucius sighed. “If you’re going to insist on being an obstreperous bratling, then I suppose I could sit with you for a while. You won’t be able to speak yet, so don’t even try.”

The familiar scold settled something within him. The bed dipped and Lucius sat carefully next to him. Cool fingers brushed his hair off his forehead.

“No fever, at least. If you get yourself into a froth she’ll put me six feet under, so we’ll do this calmly, please.”

It felt a bit as if he was a grubby firstie again.

“Would you like to know who found you?” Lucius asked.

Severus assented. Yes, he bloody well wanted to know who dragged him back to life (beyond Cissa, because of course she would).

Lucius’ low chuckle warmed him.

“Potter did. It always comes back to him, doesn’t it? He…I suppose I’d better tell you in sequence. You never liked a tale that hopped about in time.”

No, he did not.

“Did Potter see…what happened to you?”

Severus managed to shrug. He knew Potter saw the aftermath, but how much else was anyone’s guess. Knowing Potter, he saw all of it and had convinced himself it was all his own fault.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter in the end. We’re all free of it, you know? Whatever message you gave Potter, he did the thing properly and…came back, somehow. The Dark Lord’s reign is ended and somehow Potter convinced the Ministry that my family was coerced. How, I wonder, would he know I was given to the Dark Lord’s service as tribute by my father?”

The archly asked question had Severus freezing in place. Had Potter found…he had to have found what Severus left. He’d written it all down, everything he knew that no one else did, in the days leading up to the final battle. Trust the nosiest arsehole he’d ever had the misfortune of teaching to ferret it out.

“Ah, yes, apparently he also delivered quite the impassioned speech on the many ways the magical world has failed in the last several generations to the detachment of Aurors about to descend on my home. Thankfully the dossier information kept us from being arrested. I expect I’ll have some questions to answer.”

Severus agreed with that. But oh, what he’d give to see a memory of Potter doing that.

“Apparently, some time in the middle of the night, Potter remembered you and came charging up to the front doors, hammering on them and shouting. By the time we got down to open them, as we’d sent the elf on duty to bed, he’d been joined by the Weasley boy and that Granger chit who were unsuccessfully trying to calm him down.”

Severus snorted at that, but carefully.

“Quite,” Lucius agreed. “As with anything involving Potters, we unfortunately devolved into farce. Potter, who apparently never washed despite battle and being covered in what looked like most of your blood, having hysterics in the entry, shouting teenagers, such a wonderful scene. Granger kept trying to take over and the Weasley kept trying to shove them both behind him. Thankfully, Granger gave Cissa what she needed to know to mount a rescue and Draco got Potter calmed down.”

Severus raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, he got an elf to bring some of that revolting tea you like, sugared it ‘til the spoon practically stood up, and barked at Potter that he’d either drink it or be stunned. Weasley didn’t like that much, but seemed mollified when Potter did as he was told. I confess that I don’t particularly like the way Draco looked at Potter, but I expect I shall have to bear up under whatever Draco tells us.”

Severus snorted again.

“Cissa, Granger, and I went to get you while Draco and Weasley handled Potter. You…Severus, if you ever do anything like that again I will kill you myself. You looked dreadful and it took all Cissa’s skill to drag you back from the brink. Your robes are a loss, I’m afraid. Our laundry elf burst into tears when asked if they could be saved.”

Trust Lucius to focus on something like robes.

“Then we spent the last three days not being arrested and keeping you from succumbing to your injuries. I think Draco has Potter ensconced somewhere. I believe I heard an argument with Weasley and Granger over that. Something about clearly no one else is taking care of him and he’ll let them know when they can visit.” Lucius sighed. “He’s like his mother.”

And, Severus thought, his father, who looked at a ragamuffin firstie and decided that clearly that child was his.

“I don’t want to hear one word from you.” Lucius tapped Severus gently on the nose, a fond smile softening his features. “You need sleep.”

He wanted to protest, to ask for the memory of Potter, covered in gore and having hysterics in the Hall, but he knew a futile gambit when he thought of one. Lucius could be as unbending as Merlin’s staff. He sighed.

“Yes, I know. If you behave for Cissa, we’ll share our memories.”

That would have to do. Severus let himself relax slowly, let the sandalwood and lavender of Lucius and Narcissa wash over him.

Home. They’d brought him home.

#severus snape #snapetober 2023

[teratocrat]

A single yellow dwarf, unremarkable, of about 1.0218 solar masses. And in its corona, dancing aurora-dragons, ribbons and feathers of nine-colored light, singing and reciting poetry to each other and hitching freezing rides on the asteroids and comets that swing close enough to the star to leap out onto.

One small, dense planet, frosted over with incandescent stormclouds that snow lead flakes onto the slopes of volcanoes whose calderas are choked with galena coral reefs, the bones of colonies of radiation-tolerant extremophilic microorganisms, and where sulfur-swamps coat the lazy tideless beaches of the planet's only ocean, stirred and tilled by people like lanky bundles of black ironstraw, who heap their storehouses high with xanthous dried fusegrass.

One larger, much cooler planet, the calcite gleam of its moon hidden from the surface much of the time by cloudcover. warm, shallow, mildly acidic seas of lavender mucous, tentative marshes of weeping fuschia ferns, translucent lapine blobs with probing antennae that could be eyes or ears or questing tongues, and in the middle of the deepest ocean, a massive gelatinous thing, a superorganism like a rose with its stem plunging down into the volcanic baths of an oceanic rift, a mind from whom all other minds on this planet came and to which they occasionally return, eager to share their stories.

One rocky planet, bitterly cold and with the merest wisps of atmosphere clinging to it. Lifeless, all its water burned off it by baleful solar glare, the vast horizon-spanning saltpan seafloors bone-bare under the violet sky, and its moon hanging above like a clenched fist of black basalt.

An asteroid belt, scattered diamond motes of ice and stone and clay and metals, with three dwarf planets in its embrace, and the largest of them bearing a banner of silver and midnight, a unicorn guarding some alien tree.

A planet one might almost mistake for Earth, for all its snake-necked tortoise-camels and gold-feathered tigermen, for all its gleaming pentagonal ziggurats of diamond and steel, its three space elevators anchored in the emerald forests that girdle the equator, the capital of an interplanetary empire founded at the mouth of an immense river lazily piling hundreds of tons of silt a year into delta marshes, its vast ports berthing wide, flat-bottomed barges hauling iron and salt and sand and cinnabar, barrels of fish and wine and oil and perfumes, tigerman janissaries and scholars and poets and wizards, all tallied and accounted for in the lightning thoughts of supercomputers domesticated by bureaucracy. spaceplanes like silver songbirds or leaping fish ferrying the nobility (who disdain regular shuttle flights from the tips of the space elevators as base transportation for commoners) from the surface of the planet to its moon above, or to any number of gleaming stations in high orbit.

A gas giant, pale as pearl streaked with delicate pink and green pastels, skirted by dozens of captured child-moons, many of them bearing the same unicorn banner, some of them mined for this or that rare earth element, cities buried under the shielding crust of a scant handful, and two of them habitiformed enough to support imperial hunting grounds - managed grasslands or forests full of imported game - and hunting lodges of squat domes and towering spires, mirrored labyrinthine greenhouse-gardens and treasure-vaults of platinum jewelry set with nebula-gems snatched from their condensation-nests in the gas giant's depths.

Another gas giant, the blues and purples of a ripe plum blushing from clouds of midnight-black marbled with gold, icy rings slicing through swirling lunar orbits, merchants and mercenaries and privateers gliding from port to port in their sapphire-hulled ships, out where the empire scrabbles to find purchase. hollowed-out asteroids house cylindrical farms or monasteries of fatalistic leonine faiths or the huddled bodies of wound-down murine clockwork eunuchs, commissioned to advise and amuse some tiger-empress whose phoenix standard had long since faded into obscurity by the time the founder of the unicorn-banner dynasty first rallied soldiers to his cause.

An Earth-sized ball of grey-green ice, glassy smooth surfaces broken up by cryovolcanoes pumping volatiles up from a sooty core to rain down again in miserable pattering drizzles of methane through ammonia blizzards.

An ice giant, the immense azure sphere its inward neighbor might have been were it not for the vagaries of fate as involved in early star system formation, accompanied by seventeen bitterly cold moons whose tides have woven something enormous and ponderous of thought out of the inner sea of supercritical fluids.

a dozen or more dwarf planets of packed stone and ice, swinging through the outer black clouds on vastly elliptical orbits, witnesses to tumbling nickel-iron visitors and alien probes relaying streams of blurry photography and other observations back to some unknown homeworld as they fall endlessly through interstellar space.