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moemoemammon · 3 years

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MC is Sick?!

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

A little late to notice that you’re sick. He’s been so busy lately that he can’t watch you as carefully as he’d like to, so he apologizes for not catching on sooner.

But now that it’s been brought to his attention, Lucifer is all over it. You’re excused from your classes and sent to your room for bedrest while he tends to everything else. He’s rarely the one to bring you your medicine or meals, to his dismay, but his busy schedule just won’t allow it.

If he were able he’d let you stay in his room until you felt better. But for the time being, he’ll have to squeeze in little visits to your room, where he’ll pop in and sit on the edge of your bed, pressing his hand against your forehead and letting it linger on your cheek.

He’ll often come to your room with a record for you to listen to, and he loves talking about the history of the music and the life of the composure. His boring talks put you right to sleep.

“This piece is one of my favorites. The composer went into an illness induced madness when he created the sheet music, and wouldn't eat or sleep for two weeks until it’d been completed. Why, I often listen to it when- Ah, have you fallen asleep?"

Mammon

The first to notice the change in your health. You don’t look so good.. Are you okay? MC?!

Good luck trying to get any rest, because your first man is gonna be popping in and out of your room every five minutes. He’s constantly checking in on you, making sure you’re not too hot or too cold, that you’ve got something to drink, that you ate the soup he left-

Actually, Mammon’s not that bad of a caretaker! He’s a little too attentive, but he clearly knows what he’s doing. Also insists on being the only one that takes care of you until you’re better.

Polices everything you do. You wanna get out of bed? Nope, wait for Mammon. You’re bored? He’ll bring you something to do. Know what, he’s just gonna move into your room for the time being-

“Who told ya to go and get sick? Makin' me worry like this... I'm gonna make sure ya get better in no time, so you'd better be grateful, ya hear? I don't do this for just anybody..."

Levi

No way... You’re sick?! But you guys had plans to watch Magical Ruri Hana together...

Yeah, he’s not the best at caretaking despite watching Cells at Work, but he does know the basics! It kills him to leave his room so frequently, so.. why don’t you just stay in his room? He’ll take care of you there, and the healing waves of Ruri-chan will wash over you and get rid of your illness!

He definitely can’t be your primary caregiver, unless you want to be sick forever. Anime doesn't really imitate real life. Who would've thought?

But he’s as attentive as he can be, at least! He brings you new DVDs to watch, manga to read, and delicious stacks to try whenever he can! Even if this is all he can do, he wants to make sure you know he’s thinking about you. May or may not also be spam texting you and keeping you awake-

“I brought the audio drama for you to listen to! It's from the TSL live series, where they act out the scenes! You won't have to worry about reading or watching anything, so you can listen to it to sleep. Oh, but I want to hear your opinion on everything! And then you- huh? When will you be able to sleep? Uh..."

Satan

The most knowledgeable when it comes to taking care of human illnesses, but he still fumbles a little. Insists on making an accurate diagnosis of your symptoms, and that takes way longer than the actual treatement,

But once he’s deduced what’s going on, Satan goes all in. You might feel like a guinea pig because of all the weird methods he’s trying on you (may or may not have read a medieval medicine book first), so uhhhhh be patient with him. Now hold still while he puts this onion in your sock-

Not as attentive as the others, but very thorough when he tends to you. And despite all the unorthodox healing methods, you actually recover quickly, by some miracle.

In the quieter moments when all you need is rest, Satan will sit by and quietly read to you until you lull off to sleep, brushing the hair from your face before he leaves.

“Hm... I was sure St. John's Wart would do the trick, but your fever hasn't broken at all? Maybe I ought to try minced garlic and honey next? Or maybe..- Eh? Just normal medicine is fine?"

Asmo

SICK?! No no, this won’t do at all! Asmo doesn’t want to see his darling MC looking so pale and unsightly! It’s off to bed with you now. No, not his bed he loves you but you’ve gotta understand-

Gentle affection is one of Asmo’s selling points, but that doesn’t mean the king of aftercare knows how to treat illnesses. He does however make you extremely comfortable. I’m talking extra fluffy pillows, cold and hot packs where you need them most, careful sponge baths (if you’ll let him), and everything else he can offer to make sure you’re okay.

May or may not show up in a hazmat suit, but don’t worry. The mask is clear so you get a view of his beautiful face! And when he isn’t around to take care of you, he sends pictures of himself to speed up the healing process.

Most likely to ask for help in your care. He tends to forget that you need more than affection and selfies to help you recover-

“Make sure you get better quickly, okay? I'll keep gracing your with my gorgeous face, and that ought to heal you in no time! Oh, maybe an herbal bath will help, too? I'll join you~!"

Beel

Extremely worried the moment you sneeze twice in a row. And when that escalates into a full blown cold, he immediately takes you to your room and cocoons you in every spare blanket he can find.

His care is sloppy, but full of affection. Your bed is a fluffy mess of soft blankets and pillows, and he lingers in your room nearly all day. And naturally, Beel knows you need to eat in order to heal.

You’re never without any food. This man will bring you an entire rotisserie chicken and a quart of orange juice for breakfast do not underestimate him. And if you can’t stomach anything, he’s try for things that’re easier to eat. like soups and broths. Also insists on feeding you himself.

Might also need some help in caring for you. He has good intentions and he’s being as careful with you as can be, but it can’t help to have another set of hands on the job. He wants to make sure you get the best care he can offer.

“Mm... you're not eating a lot today. Hm? You're full? But you only had a shadow hog roast, three sandwiches, and a gallon of juice. Are you sure that's enough? ...Well, maybe you're right. I'll eat what you can't finish, then. Hm? You're worried I'll get sick? It's fine. A human cold wont affect me."

Belphie

He knew something was up when you didn’t get out of bed that morning. Sleeping until 2pm is HIS thing, got it? Just kidding-

Tries not to show it, but this man is so worried that he can’t even sleep. BELPHEGOR, the Avatar of Sloth, is suffering from insomnia.

He isn’t really the best at taking care of other people, but he knows that plenty of rest can only do you good. Belphie climbs into your bed and resigns himself to staying there until you heal. Somehow, having him around makes your sleep even deeper, so you always wake up feeling a little more rested than before.

Not so great at remembering when to bring you medicine and stuff, so the help of the others is a given. But despite that, you find yourself comfortable in every position you shift into. Belphie knows a thing or two about resting peacefully, so he’s got an eye for helping you with that.

“Are you feeling a little better today? ...Good. You were tossing and turning in your sleep, so I got you that ice pack. It look like your fever finally broke, so that means I can rest easy now.. goodnight......"

#I wrote this because I am ill and I wanna indulge #obey me shall we date #obey me!#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#shall we date? obey me!#shall we date obey me #obey me writing #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

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katsukikitten · 3 years

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Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha x reader

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 3 years

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#152

“You can drop the robe now. You no longer wear clothes unless I tell you. You are no longer a man. Come over here and let me inspect your work. Pretty good on the chest area. There’s still some stubble on your balls. Armpits are good. Turn around show me the cunt. Go on bend over. Nice and smooth. Oh wait, you missed a few hairs on your taint. You know, your pussy is so nice. I mean while you were screaming from me smashing your cherry last night you probably didn’t know that it took my cock pretty well—nice and tight yet didn’t strangle me....

"Ok turn back around and kneel in front of me, eyes down, knees spread. You did an ok job shaving yourself considering the hairy beast you were. I always have my cunts shave themselves on day one. Don’t worry, the stubble will be taken care of pretty soon. You aren’t the only new slave I have procured. You will meet him soon and you and it will shave each other completely hairless. There’s one final thing I will have you do as a free man is to take that dog collar on the table behind you and put it around your neck, lock it, and hand me the key.

"It’s amazing everything you have done here, you have done on your own. You are the one who shaved your body. You are the one who offered me your cherry. You are the one who offered your tongue for me to sit on. You are the one who is giving up your freedom to me. You signed a power of attorney to me. Most importantly, you are the one who confessed to me that with your help, your son embezzled just over half a million dollars from my business…. Now put that collar on…. Everything you have done so far has been recorded on a hidden cam. Hehe, I fucking love playing the part where you have your very hairy legs in the air begging me to ‘Please fuck my cherry cunt.’

"Now hand me the key. I am in control of everything now. I call all the shots. You are to do as you are told. That’s an electrified dog collar. If I press this button, like this. You immediately fall to the floor, just like that. And with that, I take a six foot three two hundred sixty-pound man and turn him into yet another ass eating slave cunt. All I had to do was to promise not to seek prosecution of your son…. Now get back into kneeling position…. Don’t worry I will definitely live up to my end of the bargain. With the power of attorney, I will get back my money once I sell your house, new car, and new boat.

"Man, you are literally giving up everything for your only child not to go to jail. Jail can be pretty rough for pretty boys like him. He would be some man’s bitch in no time. He would be made to lick the shitholes of some big hairy men. Then spit roasted by other inmates with gigantic dicks. Hehe. Your face tells me everything, you don’t like the thought of him being raped over and over by huge cocks. Well because of you selflessly giving yourself to me, I’m not prosecuting him.

"Speaking of gigantic dicks, you have a hog yourself. Normally I put a cock cage on every piece of slave cock. I’m the only man here. But I think I will keep yours free, for now. I think it would be fun to watch you tear up some slave’s cunt. Don’t worry, I’m still going to use your cunt though. And don’t worry about not having a hard on…. Stand up slave. Look to the sky. Hold still…. Damn this is a big dick. Don’t fucking move. Just a little pin prick. There! I just injected your cock with a drug to give you a steel hard-on for a few hours. It’ll take a few minutes to fully kick in. Give it a tug. That’s it. Jack it off. That is one slab of man meat. I may turn you into a fuck slave. Shoot up your cock, and make you fuck slave after slave for hours. You know, even if you cum, you don’t lose your hard on. You can continue to batter cunt after cunt. You are getting really hard now.

"Follow me back in the house. Put the robe back on and leave it untied. I want your battering ram pointing forward when we go to the playroom. I have this other slave who turn himself in a couple nights ago. That fag could suck like a pro. His cunt is silky smooth offering just enough tightness to drive my cock wild. I want to see it stretched around both our cocks. Unlike you, he’s definitely been getting plowed by men on a regular basis. He knows how to please a man. He’s going to require very little training…. Well damn! You are steel rock hard. That is a huge fucking dick, bigger than mine. I can’t wait for you to tear this faggot up. If you want to keep that dick, be as rough and brutal as you can. Smack him around. Piss on him. Treat him like shit. That’s what he needs. If I sense that either of you two are not performing to the levels I am demanding, both your collars will shock the hell out of you two. Yes, I had him put his collar on yesterday, just like you did ten minutes ago. Also just like you, he shaved himself. You two will get to shave completely each other once we are done. And just like you, he signed every thing away to me. You want to know the big difference between you two, other than his pecker is rather small? You gave up everything to prevent your son from being prosecuted for embezzlement. And he gave up everything to prevent his father from being prosecuted for embezzlement. That’s right, go in there and rape your son. I’ll be watching my first father/son fucking with my finger on the trigger. Now go on.”

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girlindelusionn · 3 years

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finally finished himym!! hated the finale (of course) so here's another "most likely to" but much longer to help me cope (negate, why lie to you) with how the most awesome couple ended

(also this probably has a million mistakes but im too lazy to do something about it, having to write in english is hard man, so please ignore it:D)

most likely to: swarkles version :)

Who spends almost all their money on the other?

barney, definitely. he's not exactly the best at actually coming up with gifts so sometimes for birthdays or stuff like that he just takes her to the mall and lets her pick whatever she wants (he also makes fun of her the whole time, but i don't think it's necessary to clarify that)

Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions?

barney doesn't know how to drive and is generally better with technology, so robin drives and he gives directions and prevents her fights with the gps to get really violent

also robin is a REALLY violent driver, she doesn't go really fast but if anyone has the audacity to get in her way shes going to definitely roast the fuck out of them

"oh i know you're not honking at me… LISTEN HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT, IM GOING TO MAKE THE TURN WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO DO? YOU WANT ME TO FLY OVER YOU? GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS AND LET ME GET IN THE FUCKING L– there you go, thanks!..."

Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they're tired?

barney to robin, one of the "corny couple" million things he swore he wasn't going to do. but then robin simply looks at him with a sad face, explaining how much her feet hurt and he can't say no

Who is the most affectionate?

barney, actually

it's surprising, cause he's always been someone who likes his space but there's times, mostly in private, when he just can't keep his hands to himself. and you would think it's purely sexual but no, in the contrary, most times it's just a hand in her hair or her back, or demanding hugs and cuddles

Who falls asleep in the other's lap and who carries them to bed?

trick question! barney is who carries robin to bed, but she falls asleep in his shoulder

and he is the one who falls asleep in robin's lap, with her running her hands through his hair

Who wakes up first?

neither of them is a morning person, but usually robin works out in mornings so her. on weekends they stay in bed as long as they can

Who apologizes first after an argument?

they're both stubborn as hell so they schedule apologizes and take turns on doing it

Who is the nerd?

both of them, in different aspects. like robin likes math to the point of doing problems and equations for fun ??? and well, barney is a huge star wars, lord of the rings, that kinda books, nerd

i like to think that they have harry potter in common, they've read all the books, make marathons with the movies, they even went to the universal park! and had a lot of fun there (of course they've never told the guys that)

Who makes the other one laugh the most?

barney, he knows robin cant be mad and laughing at the same time and he uses it as an advantage

Who sleep talks?

robin 🥺

Who hogs the blankets at night?

also robin, but barney doesn't care

Who is the neat freak?

neither of them, but they manage to keep the place decent

Who likes to surprise the other with random gifts?

barney! single flowers, tiny chocolates, etc

Who buys the healthy food in the house?

robin, but it's mostly barney who does the actual cooking

Who has better music taste?

robin 😎

Who takes care of the spiders?

they do it together as a team, and if that doesn't work (aka if the spider is slightly bigger than average) they just go whining to marshall and he fixes it

Who uses more nicknames?

barney is mostly sweetie but after the wedding robin is kinda obsessed with the word husband

"so how's the most handsome husband, huh?"

"did you buyed the milk I texted you for, husband?"

"hi, husband!!"

robin is babe or sometimes honey, and after the wedding barney keeps calling her his "ex-girlfriend" (don't tell anyone, but he also LOVES the term wife, he can't comprehend how is he so lucky to have her as his wife)

(update after actually finishing the show: r-train and b-nasty!!!)

Who's the little spoon?

first year of dating? robin

after that is barney, you can't change my mind

Who suggests scary movies for film night?

robin!! but they both like them

Who gets jealous more often?

both, barney is less dissimulated about it

Who brings up kids first?

no of them, lol

Who borrows who's clothes more?

robin, she has stole the few hoodies he had and sometimes for sexy times likes using his ties

barney secretly uses some of her giganteus t shirts (he makes fun of her for buying them but he's actually glad she does) for sleep when she's away for the night

...they smell like her, okay? leave him alone

(also he loves when she uses his underwear and sometimes the only way to convince her to do it is doing the same himself, so he has wore panties)

(don't tell ted)

(please)

Who cries more during sad movies?

barney, is hard for robin to cry for movies, also he loves villains and they hardly have a happy ending so...

Who falls asleep on the other more?

robin, she falls asleep very easily

Who says I love you more?

barney :)

Who initiates kisses more?

also blondie, again he's a little obsessed with his wife

Who initiates hugs more?

robin this time

Who takes more pictures of the other?

robin, for sure. at first it was cause she wanted that bad picture of him, but then his husband is really cute with his sleepy eyes and the sun on his face, or looks so excited to watch the next episode of some lame show, or he's bringing her breakfast at bed with a big smile or looks a little too good with his new suit and she can't help but take her phone out and snap a pic of him

Who leaves notes for the other one around the house?

barney, at first it was to annoy her, like writing "you lost the game!!" at random places (i'm sorry lmao, i just realized i made you lose too, lol) or "sorry, babe! i ate it all last night" at the empty wrappers of candy in the fridge

but then one day barney found one in a coffee mug:

"wow, you didn't put much imagination in hiding this one, didn't you?" he said, his girlfriend was in the bedroom finishing to get ready for work.

"read it!!" she shot back, a little… nervous?

"i love you", the note said.

"scherbatsky?"

"yeah...?"

"come here"

"what's up?" she finally showed up to the living room, looking all tiny and scared

"love you too, loser"

Who gets drunk faster?

barney? i don't know, they both handle scotch pretty well, so i'm guessing it takes a while for them to get drunk

Who gets hit on more by strangers?

robin, but she couldn't care less

Who makes food for the house more often?

barney, he's a surprisingly good cook

#swarkles #barney and robin #robin and barney #robin scherbatsky #barney stinson #fuck the finale #himym

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mythologymondays · 4 years

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It’s that time again, the time where we all gleefully sit down on the nearest mound and regale ourselves with totally normal Welsh tales of magical women and horses and enchanted bags, because that’s just how the Mabinogion is. Fun sources and FACTS beneath the cut, as always.

Press J on your keyboard if you hate stories about Medieval etiquette, liminality, and magic mounds.

The Prince and the Horse Girl: a temporally disconnected romance for the ages

So, the last we heard of Pwyll, he had successfully cockblocked himself into becoming best friends with Arawn, the Lord of the Underworld, which sounds like a pretty average Friday night in Cardiff, let me tell you. Anyway, Pwyll at this point is just kind of riding high on the fame that being best pals with Arawn brings, and he’s showing his friendship bracelet to everyone he meets and saying stuff like “yeah, it’s great to have the Lord of the Underworld Arawn-ed whenever I need him,” and everyone just sort of rolls their eyes good-naturedly and thinks about death.

One day, Pwyll is at his court at Arbeth, which is one of his most important courts. There’s a huge feast in front of him and all of his courtly pals are there, just chewing the fat. Pwyll tears off the leg of another whole roast pig, probably his eighth of the session, and he’s about to bite into it when he realises that everyone sat around the table is staring at him, so he puts down the pig leg really gingerly and says, “do I have hog spleen around my mouth or something?” and one of his courtly crew, who doesn’t get a name in the original text and so will henceforth be known as Brad, says, “no, my lord, but you do have practically an entire herd of pigs in your stomach, so maybe it’s time for a walk?”

Pwyll blinks at him and he’s like, “I don’t really see why I would want to go for a walk in the yucky outside when I could be sitting here and savouring delicious morsels of tenderly roasted flesh,” and Brad shrugs and says, “well, I read an article about nutrition in this scientific journal last week, and apparently it’s not actually that good for you to just eat constantly and never go outside ever,” and Pwyll is like, “no, but it’s super fun,” and Brad sighs and he’s like, “look, I wasn’t going to tell you this, just in case you got too excited, but there’s actually a mound outside,” and then Pwyll’s eyes go as wide as dinner plates and he cries, “a mound? Seriously? You’re not just fucking with me to get me to go outside?” and Brad is like, “no, there’s seriously a genuine, 100% organic mound outside, and it’s only a short walk away,” and so Pwyll pushes his chair out from under the table and he’s all, “lead the way, pal, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner that there was a fucking rad mound outside, you know how much I love mounds.”

So, they all traipse outside on horseback, and lo and behold, Brad wasn’t lying. There really is an absolutely incredible mound outside, all earthy and hilly, and… look. I’ll level with you. It’s hard to get excited about a mound, but Pwyll manages it. I have no idea how. God knows I’ve tried. But anyway, he leads his merry band of lads up to the top of the mound, and they’re all about to sit down when Brad puts out a hand and stops Pwyll from doing so. Pwyll is like, “dude, stop crushing my vibe, I’m about to become sedentary on this sediment,” and Brad just shakes his head and he’s like, “bro, I need to tell you something about the mound, because I may have undersold it.”

Pwyll is obviously in complete disbelief at this point, just like, “mate, there’s no way you undersold it. It can’t get any cooler than this. It just can’t. Have you seen it?” and Brad is like, “yes, it’s a really interesting geological formation, and the topography also makes it look a bit like a butt, which is obviously super rad, but I didn’t tell you that it’s also a magic mound, because if a nobleman sits on it, one of two things will happen: either he’ll see something absolutely fantastic, like the original The Mummy film starring Brendan Fraser or a cool dog, or he’ll get maimed and mortally wounded. It’s 50/50, to be honest with you.”

Pwyll just blinks at him, and he’s like, “dude, those are two very different things, but you know, I really can’t pass up the opportunity to see a cool dog,” and Brad says, “I need you to know that the dog was just a random example, I make no canine promises here, I can’t stress that enough,” and Pwyll just shrugs and scoffs, “whatever, dude. Anyway, if I do get totally maimed, I’ve got my posse here, and you’ll do first aid on me, won’t you?” and Brad just sort of nods nervously, because they haven’t even invented antiseptic in Medieval Wales and all their bandages are just, like, old socks drenched in ale, and they don’t have St John Ambulance to teach them all first aid because there isn’t even a J in the Welsh alphabet, and then Pwyll grits his teeth and sits down.

Almost immediately, this brilliant white horse just zooms past them, and Pwyll is like, “oh, that’s fucking sick, my dudes! I thought a dog would be cool, but a horse? Are you kidding me? It doesn’t get much better than this! Equestrian displays are my jam!” and then Brad rolls his eyes and he’s like, “my lord, did you not notice that there was a phenomenally sexy and almost certainly magic lady in gold riding that horse?” and Pwyll is like, “honestly, no, I was kind of distracted by the fetlocks, but now you come to mention it, she’s pretty attractive, I guess. Hey, do you think I could catch up with her and ask her where she got her cool horse?”

So he gets back on his horse and he tries to catch up with the lady, but even though Pwyll’s horse was sold to him as being the fastest ride on four legs, he can’t even come close to her. He walks back to his lads, his metaphorical tail between his actual legs, and he’s like, “dudes, we’re going to formulate a plan tonight,” and then a random guy in the posse is like, “oh cool, I brought Sharpies,” and they go back to Arbeth Court and spend literally all night just drawing diagrams and equations on a tapestry of England, because that’s probably the best use for it.

The next day, they put their plan in action. Pwyll gets his youngest, fittest lad, plops him on his biggest, muscliest horse, the one that’s like an equine version of that man in Game of Thrones who keeps breaking weightlifting records and is almost definitely earmarked to play Atlas in some big budget Greek myth film, and sends him after the lady. But still, no matter how fast they ride, she’s always one step ahead of them. At one point, they almost catch up with her, but when Pwyll reaches out to stroke her silky blonde hair in a totally normal and cool way, she pulls forward again and he just fucking eats dust. It’s humiliating.

And this goes on for three days, because princes don’t have, like, hobbies in Medieval Wales, or apparently any princely duties that would make galavanting after a magic horse woman for half a week kind of inconvenient for the general populace, and gradually, Pwyll’s men all bow out one by one, probably because they’ve all developed an absolutely stonking case of piles from being on horseback for three days solid, and then Pwyll is alone in his romantic and also literal pursuit.

Exhausted, starving and probably desperate for the loo at this point, Pwyll throws his head back and howls, “what the fuck is going on on this day? I’ve tried everything! I’m absolutely stumped. I don’t know what to do about this. I’ve considered it from every possible angle. I chased her, and that didn’t work. I got my wingman to chase her, and that didn’t work. Those are my only two options in the entire world. I just don’t know what else I can do. It’s completely fucking futile, I wish I’d just seen a dog instead,” and then a flash of inspiration comes to him, and he just calls out to the woman, “erm, could you maybe just, like, stop?” and, like a miracle, she does.

When he catches up to her, she glares at him, and says, “I’ve literally been waiting three whole days for you to just ask me to stop, why did it take you so long?” and Pwyll is like, “I sort of thought that it was implied, to be honest with you, what with all the chasing and me crying loudly about my unending solitude and the futility of love,” and she shrugs and says, “well, if we’re to be marred, we really have to work on our communication,” and Pwyll is like, “wait, what, who said anything about marriage?” and she just rolls her eyes, like, “look, I’m a sexy Medieval maiden and you’re a prince with some land and gendered expectations, so of course we’re going to get married,” and he’s like, “well, if we marry, that means I get to ride your horse whenever I want, right?” and she nods, like, “yes, that’s definitely the primary appeal of marriage.”

But just as he’s about to get down on one knee, she looks at him again, and says, “I should just tell you something super quick, in the name of true love and Medieval marriage etiquette,” and he’s like, “what, your name?” and she says, “no, not that, although it’s Rhiannon, but mostly I’m thinking of the fact that you actually have to wait a whole year to propose to me, because I’m almost engaged to someone else, who I hate, and I need to sort that all out first.”

Pwyll frowns and says, “hang on, is this going to be another one of those weird magic things where I have to wait a whole year and then conveniently murder someone in a previously determined location?” and she’s like, “what the fuck, no, there’s not going to be any murder at all, just a lavish engagement feast and some nuptials and probably some awkward standing around with the in-laws to-be,” and he’s like, “so why do we have to wait a year?” and she just waves her arms around and says, “temporally disconnected Otherworld shit, my love, I don’t make the rules. Just come to the court of Hyfaidd Hen in exactly a year, and we’ll do the whole ball and chain thing. It’ll be great.”

So he agrees, because of course he does, and the next thing he knows, it’s a year later, and he goes to Hyfaidd Hen and Rhiannon’s there in this beautiful McQueen wedding dress, looking all Kate Middleton but without the colonial royal associations, and there’s an absolutely exquisite feast laid out, with a whole array of delicious Medieval food, like unseasoned meat pies and room-temperature ale that looks like piss, and Pwyll just thinks to himself how cool it all is, but he also secretly harbours a lingering regret for the previous year, where he was forced after a blunder of etiquette to kill a random man in a duel, and although he feels bad about it, a part of him longs for the decadent adventures of his bachelorhood, when murder was more than just a six letter word.

They’re all just kind of milling about on the dancefloor, listening to the bards spit some absolute club classics like Y Gododdin by Aneurin, which really gets the toes tapping, when this random dude with a chiseled jawline and a playful glint in his eye comes up to Pwyll and extends his hand for Pwyll to shake. Pwyll, who is completely head over heels for manners and etiquette, shakes the man’s hand, and says, “hello, new friend! What can I do for you?” and Rhiannon elbows him in the side, and hisses, “be careful, fiancé dearest, don’t let him tangle you up in a web of etiquette from which there is no escape,” and Pwyll waves her off, saying, “my sweet darling, I am a prince of Wales; manners are my middle name,” and he turns back to the man.

The man grins at him, and he says, “I’ve come to ask a favour of you, Pwyll, prince of Wales,” and Pwyll, still enamoured by this man’s manners, is struck by an overwhelming desire to just do whatever this perfectly polite man wants, so he spreads his arms wide in a benevolent gesture, conveniently using it as an excuse to set down his glass of lukewarm piss ale on a nearby shelf, and says, “literally anything you want, my friend, I’ll give you!” and then the stranger’s grin turns into a smirk and he says, “by your word?” and Pwyll is like, “fuck yeah, man, by all of my words, as God and all these noble guests are my witness!” and the stranger is like, “sick bro, I want to marry Rhiannon, and I also want your wedding feast.”

And Pwyll has no idea what to say to that, because he just promised this man anything he wanted, so he decides that maybe silence is his best bet here, and the man grins at him, and stalks off, knowing that there’s literally nothing that Pwyll can do now except reconsider all of his life choices up to this point.

When the man has left, Rhiannon groans, “you phenomenal dick, that man was Gwawl and he’s the complete bag of dicks that my parents tried to marry me off to, and you just got me affianced to him!” and Pwyll just grits his teeth and hisses, “well, dear, you might have told me that before I told him I’d do whatever he wanted,” and Rhiannon sighs and says, “you’re right, but look, we can work through this. Here’s the plan. Firstly, we’ll tell him that he can’t have the feast, because it’s not yours to give, but mine, and we’ll prepare him an equal feast instead. Then, we’ll tell him that he can marry me a year from today, but here’s the thing - on the day of the wedding, you’ll secretly turn up in disguise with a very tiny magic bag and you’ll ask him, very reasonably, for just enough food to fill the bag. He’ll obviously say yes, because even he can’t turn down something that reasonable, but the bag will be enchanted to never be filled, so you’ll just take all the food, until he asks you how he can help you fill the bag, and you tell him that a fine nobleman has to step on it to seal it, and then he’ll step on it, and then you jump on him and pull the bag over his head and tie him up in the bag and hang it from a rafter, and then you’ll blow your hunting horn to summon your posse of lads and you’ll all beat him to a bloody, pulpy death in the bag.”

Pwyll just blinks at her, and says, “sweetheart, love of my life, light of my existence, did you perchance dream up that oddly specific plan a while ago, because if not, then your imagination terrifies me,” and this small, maniacal grin plays on her lips, and she says, “darling, you know how you asked me last year if you’d have to wait a whole year and then conveniently murder someone in a previously determined location, and I told you no?” and he’s like, “yes, I do remember that,” and she says, “well, ask me again,” and so he says, “babe, do I have to wait a whole year and then conveniently murder someone in a previously determined location?” and she’s like, “yes, sweetheart, but I’ve got it in the bag,” and then they high five each other and do a vengeful murder jig for like ten minutes.

And of course, a year later, they do it all over again, this time with a tiny enchanted bag and a goddamn point to prove, but that’s a story for another time.

My other retellings can be found here, and my Mythology Mondays Facebook page is here. My book is here. Yay.

I’m going to level with you: I typed out a whole bunch of super cool academic stuff and then my turdwallet of a laptop crashed and deleted all of it, and I honestly want to perish very slightly at the prospect of typing it all out again, but in a nutshell:

Some people think that Rhiannon was a horse goddess who was undeified by the Christian dudes who wrote down the pagan Welsh myths all those years later. While the Christian dudes did almost certainly sanitise the source material, we just don’t have any real proof of what they left out. The main argument for Rhiannon being a horse goddess is that she’s a woman and there was, erm, a horse. Not the most compelling argument. Some people also think she may be a cognate to the Gallic horse goddess, Epona, but this is basically extrapolated from the fact that they’re both female and somehow linked to horses, which I don’t think would fly in a court of law.

If you’re wondering why Pwyll didn’t just tell Gwawl to fuck off, it’s because he’s bound, as a nobleman, by a very strict code of honour and morals. By giving Gwawl his word, even before he knew what he was agreeing to, Pwyll made a binding promise. If he goes back on his word, Gwawl is well within his rights to challenge the fuck out of him.

Welsh myth and the Otherworld is super interesting. The Otherworld was generally believed to only be accessible at certain times and via certain places, called ‘liminal spaces’, such as bogs, bodies of water, and caves. Liminal spaces are essentially a sort of sacred space which exists in the in between, where the boundaries between worlds are porous and can be crossed, provided certain ritual conditions are met. The mound in this particular narrative is likely a portal to the Otherworld, which explains why Pwyll was able to access the magical realm of Rhiannon through it. The Otherworld, although not explicitly an Underworld, does have links with death and the afterlife, as do mounds, so that strengthens the connection. Bet you never knew mounds were so fucking cool.

Primary sources:

Davies, Sioned (2007) The Mabinogion, New York: Oxford University Press

Secondary sources:

Goldwasser, Michele (1994) What Drives the Mabinogi? Proceedings of the Harvard Celtic Colloquium, 14, 49-57

Linkletter, Michael (2001) Magical Realism and the “Mabinogi”: an Exercise in Methodology, Proceedings of the Harvard Celtic Colloquium, 21, 51-63

Wachsler, Arthur (1975) The Elaborate Ruse: A Motif of Deception in Early Celtic Historical Variants of the Journey to the Other World, Journal of the Folklore Institute, 12(1) 29-46

#mythology mondays #celtic myth #welsh myth #pwyll #rhiannon #mythology #mabinogi #mabinogion

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mybrothershands · 3 years

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MBH/Dumpling 2

second installment, same art because otherwise you'll be waiting on it all day tomorrow. Characters by myself and @diddlesanddoodles and editing by @thundering-susurrus

The giant pinched up his face as if he smelled something bad. He then prodded the lump in his chest-pocket. "Get up, you lazy fool."

Several emotions crossed Yale face all at once, from anger to confusion to relief. Now that he knew where to look, Yale could see a distinctive lump in the man’s front pocket and heard the smaller voice emanating from within. Well, if he had a human companion of his own, that was a welcome relief. But he still kept his hand on Nenani. Grinning, he jerked his head to indicate the lump on Ka's shirt. “Ah, well I suppose that answers that. He yer assistant then?”

"Parasite, more like," he said, fishing around in his pocket until he caught the man by the shirt and pulled his shoulders over the lip of the pocket.

"Why you little two-ton son of a hog-bellied cob, I ought to--" The human smacked the hand away.

A nervous laugh escaped the giant, and he clasped his hand over the smaller man's mouth. "Er, this is my brother. He took care of me when I was small," said Ka.

Yale had been watching Ka fish around in his pocket and smirked at the human’s grouchy reply. The human’s snark immediately reminded him of Farris, but upon hearing Ka call him his brother, Yale gave pause. His curiosity was piqued.

“Wha –? Really? Can’t say I’ve ever heard ‘a that. That must be one hell of a story,” he said and jerked his head towards Ka. “Ye must’ve had a time of it keepin’ ‘im fed and clothed proper.”

The giant paused, then seemed to draw back within himself and looked away. Cairo, however, had no such loss for words. "Got that right. Ungrateful, too. You should see the spot in my side where he--" The massive hand clamped over his mouth again.

"I, erm," Ka cleared his throat, worry painted on his face. "I was old enough to work when he took me in. I cleared land for a human farmer in exchange for food. Cairo paid for my clothes and gave me a place to stay."

Polly then decided to use his leg as a scratching post and began rubbing her face up and down the side of his pants, leaning into him. "Woah, hey!" Ka said as he was knocked off balance. Once he found his feet, he pulled her bridle back over her ear and straightened her forelock. "But yes, I'm," he waved his hand in a circle, "I can work with humans just fine. They just need to let me know they're there and keep away from my feet."

“Ah, well no worries there,” Yale said with a light laugh as he pulled his apron aside to reveal Nenani at his hip. “You know better than to be underfoot, ain’t that right Dumplin’?”

Nenani nodded while she observed the new giant and silently marveled at his height. Despite the way in which he towered over them, he had a kind face, and she was not afraid.

“Farris doesn’t like it if I’m on the floor,” she explained. “He doesn’t trust the footmen to keep a look out.”

Ka's expression softened. She was a little thing, even for her kind, with auburn hair that shone in the sunlight. Somehow she met his gaze without fear, and it gave him pause. "H-hello there," he said quietly. "I am Ka. It's nice to meet you, miss."

It took the giant a moment to realize that the young man must have been hiding her, and why he had questioned him so. Come to think of it, he had not seen a single small person, nor chest pocket since he had entered this town. Pieces began to fall into place, and he decided he should not stay here for long. Not with Cairo. Absently, his hand found its way to his pocket.

“Hi. I’m Nenani,” she replied back, trying to look friendly. He looked so nervous, she thought. Yale easily scooped her up and sat her on his leg. After getting comfortable, she gestured up at the cook and said, “And he didn’t say so, but this is Yale.”

Looking confused, Yale looked down at her. “I didn’t introduce myself at all did I?”

“Nope,” she replied. “That was very rude. Lolly would swat you.”

“Ah, well,” he said, giving Ka and Cairo an apologetic shrug. “She wouldn’t be too pleased with me bringin’ the lil’un on this errand either. So there’s that.”

Cairo grumbled as Ka fawned over this little girl. She seemed unafraid and even kind towards his brother, which he respected. Still, he regarded Yale with a critical eye. Hooking his elbow over the frayed lip of the pocket, the human raised his voice. "What kind of kitchen is this anyway, boy? It's a bit late in the day to be fetchin stuff. What are you doing out here now?"

“Best kitchen in Vhasshal,” Yale fired back with a smug grin. He pointed over his shoulder towards the castle behind them. “That being the royal kitchen.”

“But Gjerk didn’t clean the chimney and it ruined the luncheon roasts,” Nenani supplied with a frankness that made light of the true disaster. “Almost caught the whole kitchen on fire.”

Yale frowned and, blushing just a bit, agreed with a muted nod. “Aye. Well, even the best kitchen in Vhasshal can fall victim to inattentive tenderfoots. So we’re needin’ to shuffle things ‘round a bit. Headin’ to a merchant who raises and sells field rocs.”

Ka's face became a smiling mask with a blank stare. Royal kitchen? Was this boy not worried that some stranger picked off the street could poison someone Important? Even the king himself? What if something went wrong and he was blamed for it and put in prison? Even he himself was not sure he deserved such trust, and yet kept his mouth shut in hopes that there was something he did not know.

Cairo, meanwhile, looked the man up and down, and then the girl in turn. They seemed easygoing and honest, if not a bit frank. At last he nodded. "We will accept your offer."

The giant balked. "Cairo, I'm not sure--"

"Shut up," he said, waving a hand. "Your belly's been a'growling all day, and I'll have no more of it. This is an easy job, and you're gonna take it," Cairo barked.

Ka paused, a hint of frustration on his face. Still, this was Cairo. The giant seemed to let go of his worries and nodded. "Just tell me what to do," he said, fixing Yale in his gaze, "and I'll help as much as I can."

He seemed eager enough, Yale thought. And even if his kitchen skills were minimal, so long as he could hold a knife, he could find something for him to do. Ka’s human companion was clearly the more dominant of the two, which Yale found to be quite amusing. And even a bit refreshing. He was so used to humans reacting to him with fear or at the very least nervous suspicion. Not that they did not have a valid reason of course.

He decided he liked Cairo.

“Well, first we gotta go collect them rocs and scurry on back,” Yale said with a grin. “So if we just wanna follow along we’ll go get that done and we can get ye to work.” He paused as he considered Ka. “And get ye somethin’ t’eat. Farris might gripe at me fer it, but believe me. He’s gonna be thankful fer yer help. Even he don’t show it. Or say it. Or yells at ye.”

Yale flicked the reins to usher Polly forward, bringing a hand up to hold onto Nenani when she almost fell off his lap.

“Ah!”

“Oh, sorry there, Dumplin’.”

"Oh," said Ka as he backed away and let the animal slip past until he could walk beside the cab. This Farris fellow seemed a bit crotchety. "Thank you," he said above the creaking wheels. The mention of food set his mouth to watering. They had had so many good things down at the market, maybe now he could get his hands on something. "I can pay you, but I'm afraid my coin may just be trinkets to you."

From his pocket, Cairo squinted one eye, adjusting his position to better watch the small giant. "Why you call her 'dumpling,' anyhow?"

“It was a joke,” Nenani explained with a flat look. “Wasn’t a very funny one.”

“I dunno, I thought it was a pretty good one,” Yale replied with a knowing grin. He poked her belly and the girl squealed and laughed, batting at his fingers. She lost her balance and almost fell back off his lap, but Yale was quick enough to catch her and place her safely down on the bench beside him. He ruffled her hair into a bushy mess. “Anyway, I caught this one here after she’d nicked some fruit. And right in the middle of the King’s weddin’ feast too. Don’t think I’ve ever been that stressed in my life.”

“He threatened to eat me...” Nenani said with the same flat expression.

As lovely as he found the girl's laugh, Ka's smile quickly faded as the girl voiced the joke. He made a sound half way between a choke and a quack. "Hmm?"

Cairo looked more surprised at the noise his brother made than Nenani's admittance. "Oh he did, did he?" He sat up, eyeing Yale. "He looks like a pansy to me."

Yale could not help the smirk of satisfaction at seeing the way Ka reacted. But his focus drew to the man’s pocket and the human within. Leaning towards them and planting his hand on the other side of where Nenani sat, he grinned at the human man.

“Big words fer a fella who travels by pocket,” he challenged. “Why not come on outta there and I’ll show ye how much of a pansy I am.”

Nenani glared up at Yale and grabbed onto his sleeve and gave it a firm tug. “No fighting.”

Cairo merely laughed at the girl's reaction. "I ain't stupid. Think I'll stay in the pocket, eh?" He slapped Ka's chest.

The giant rolled his eyes. He kept pace with the cart fairly easily, even as the Svaldifari trotted. He cleared his throat. "Keep acting like that and I may just let him have you."

"What!" he exclaimed, clutching a hand over his heart. "He might skin me, don't you think? You brute, you should protect your poor old brother."

Ka sighed, plodding along. "You can take care of yourself just fine."

“Smart man, your brother,” Yale said to Ka. “With him taggin’ along, ye might just survive a day in Farris’s kitchen.”

There was something very comforting about watching Cairo and Ka banter. It was all too easy for Yale to be drawn back to the horrible memories of the war and the way it seemed to him at the time that the bloodletting would never cease. Yet before him was a man who openly and easily called a human his brother.

“As fer skinnin’: nah. Too much of a hassle. Much easier to just toss ye into the stew and pop the lid on.”

Beside him, Nenani rolled her eyes. She had become nearly desensitized to all staff’s banter about eating and cooking people. Cairo didn’t seem like the sort to take Yale seriously. But Ka, she observed, seemed to not care for the jokes at all.

Ka lolled his head back, exasperated, then clamped his hand back over Cairo's mouth. "Ne- Nena-nani, er..." he chewed on his tongue for a moment, still trying to decide how many syllables the girl's name had. "Nenani," he said decisively. "He... Yale. He said he found you stealing?" said the giant, desperate to change the subject.

There were a few shoves and knocks on his hand before there at last came a double-tap and Cairo's mouth was freed. However, he kept his mouth shut for once and watched the road ahead. The mare seemed to need a bit of guiding, unused to going this way, but Yale was not quite paying attention. He peered ahead. Was this the way they had come before? Where was the market?

“Oh. Yeah,” she replied as she fiddled with the hem of her skirt in slight embarrassment. “But it’s not like what Farris and they all thought at first. I’m not from the Hill Tribe, I’m from the Southlands. They were loading a bunch of carts near the docks and I tried to sneak in and grab a persimmon before anyone noticed, but the basket was really big and I just...kind of fell in. And got stuck.”

Yale stifled a snicker as he corrected Polly’s path. She whinnied at him in annoyance. “I remember all them peels, lil’un. It was certainly more than one.”

“I was in there for three days,” she said and stuck her tongue out at Yale. “What else was I gonna eat? The basket?” When Yale only shrugged at her, she continued. “I grew up being told stories about Vhasshal and I was really scared. So as soon as the caravan stopped, I tried to run.”

“Caught her tryin’ to make a run fer it,” Yale added lightly pinching her arm. “Didn’t get all that far. Like...a half a dozen yards maybe before I got ‘er.”

Ka frowned. He did not like the way that last bit sounded. He steered away as they passed another cart on the road. He wanted to ask the stories about Vhasshal, and why she had been so frightened, but the girl had not seemed a bit embarrassed about that point in her past. Come to think of it, maybe he did not want to know. "Persimmons... have peels?"

The edge of the village was approaching, and Yale could hear the sound of the rocs long before their pens came into view. Their destination was a handsome little cottage just at the end of the tight clusters of row homes. Though was an older building and had but a thatched roof, it was well maintained and clean. Behind it were the roc pens. There were a dozen or so of the birds loose in the larger space, and Yale felt relieved. He was only going to need ten for the luncheon service, and he’d be able to get a few extra just in case anything else went horribly wrong today.

“Well, I think they’re actually husks,” she was saying. “They’re from overseas somewhere. But you’re not supposed to eat the outsides because it’ll make you sick.”

“Ye did get sick though. Just not from eatin’ fruit,” Yale pointed out. His eyes trailed after the other cart as they passed, having seen the way they had been gawking at Ka. Poor guy must get that a lot.

“Yeah, I had the red reap,” Nenani said. “It was terrible. But Farris took care of me and gave me medicine and watched me all night while I had the fever.”

Ka blinked, trying to make sense of this new information. He had no idea what red reap was, but then again, he was not familiar with most diseases. "It sounds terrible," he said, worry on his brow. The way she had explained it, it sounded deadly. He could not imagine having to care for someone through the night, not knowing if the little thing would make it.

Though he had not yet met the man, Ka found himself reconsidering this Farris guy. If he was the type to yell at someone new, it seemed a bit backwards that he would worry over a thief. He shook the thought away. He had not met him yet. Maybe he would understand later.

It was then he heard some bird-like squabbling, and looked up to find a pen with some frighteningly large feathery beasts. "What... are those?" He felt a bit stupid for asking, but then again, nothing was familiar to him here. Nothing at all.

"What, you never seen a chicken before?" Cairo butted in.

“Oh them ain’t no chickens,” Yale answered, giving Cairo an amused sideways glance. “Those are common field rocs. Those beauties eat chickens fer breakfast. Literally. They’re birds of prey. And they’re what we’re here fer.”

Yale maneuvered the cart towards the pens and when they were close enough, he pulled the reins lightly and Polly came to a gentle halt. She turned to her head back at Yale, expectation in her eyes. With a chuckle, he reached into his apron pocket and pulled out a pressed oat cake. Turning to Ka, he held out the treat. “Wanna give Polly her reward while I go spend the king's money?”

A grin spread across Ka’s face, and he chuckled. "Seems she's in good hands," he said, gently taking the biscuit from him.

~~~

Twelve common field rocs were in the back of the cart, their wings tied down to their sides and hemp sacks placed over their heads to keep them docile. Nenani hung off the back of the driver’s bench, looking down at the immobilized birds. They were as large as cows, and it was a little daunting to think that there were birds that big in the world.

The trip back was fairly uneventful, except that news of Ka seemed to have made its way around the village, They seemed to be getting more stares than before, but Yale made a point of staring down whatever gawkers he noticed. But he did not have the same presence as Farris did, and mostly, the people just kept on staring.

Nenani found it to be pretty rude, and to several she stuck out her tongue.

As they approached the back gate that led to the kitchen courtyard, the guards stationed there did double takes as Ka came into view, but Yale was quick to head off any questions. “He’s here to help out for the day. If you have a problem with that, take it up with Farris.”

There was enough of a threat in those words that they were allowed to pass without any form of harassment.

“Don’t let those guards make ye nervous none, lad,” Yale said to Ka. “Most of ‘em are real decent fellas.”

Yale was still looking towards Ka as he directed Polly along the road, around the last bend, and into the courtyard. He pulled the reins and was about to say something else when felt a tug on his sleeve and he looked down at Nenani. “Hm? What’s it?”

Nenani merely pointed further ahead of them and Yale’s gaze followed along. A large fire pit had been lit in the middle of the yard, and the largest of their cooking pans was placed over the top, with a sizable pile of pumpkins next to it. Saen and Avery were in the middle of carving a few up but had made little headway.

But what had caught their eye was none of them, but the solitary figure just a short distance away. Standing with his arms akimbo and looking very displeased was Farris. His green eyes narrowed at Yale.

“Yer fuckin’ late.”

Ever since the border guards, Ka had gotten increasingly fidgety. As soon as Yale quieted down, he slowed up and walked behind the cart. The castle ahead was bigger than any he had seen, especially this close up. He ran his hand up and down his sleeve, trying to create some warmth as his breath crystallized before him. Upon hearing the voice, the giant's first impression was how gravelly and frayed it sounded, possibly from overuse. The second was that it did not sound happy.

"What's it to you?" Cairo muttered under his breath. It was more of a knee-jerk reaction, than anything, but it was enough to remind Ka to keep an eye on him. The human's left arm and legs lolled out of the pocket. He picked at his teeth as the giant walked. "Move over, Ka, I want to get a look at this meathead."

Ka merely shook his head, hand straying up to cover the man. "Be careful here. We don't know for sure if it's safe yet." There came a grumbling and a shove at the fingers, but for the most part he kept his mouth shut.

Before Yale could even begin to explain himself, Farris caught sight of Ka, and the kitchen master’s eyes widened as his gaze traveled up and up and up until he met the taller giant’s eye. “And just who in the Seven Hells are ye?”

Before Ka could answer, though, Yale jumped in. “Came across him on the way to get the rocs. He was lookin’ fer some work, and I offered to let him help us today.”

All through Yale’s explanations, Farris sized Ka up with a critical eye, pausing at the distinct bulge in the tall man’s pocket. His eyes narrowed suspiciously before turning their vitriol onto his assistant.

“Oh ye did, did ye?” he demanded. “Are ye fuckin’ daft boy?”

Yale hopped down off the cart. “We need the extra help, and as mad as ye are, ye can’t deny the big fella could be of some help. Hell, he’d make short work breakin’ down the pumpkins.” Yale leaned around Farris to yell past him towards his fellow cooks. “A whole lot faster than them two knobheads!”

Saen and Avery looked up from their work to glare back at Yale. Avery waved his knife in the air, calling back, “Go fuck yerself, Yale.”

Yale was still grinning when Farris drew his attention back with a growl. “And ye think I’d let just anyone off the street come in and cook in my kitchen, do ye?”

Yale glanced over his shoulder at Ka and then back to Farris. With a shrug, he said, “Honestly boss, I don’t think he’d fit. Be a bit tight.”

Farris’s ever-present glare faltered as an amused smirk crossed his lips. With a grunt he looked back at Ka. “Ye have any experience in a kitchen there, son?”

The giant clutched his fists against his chest, shoulders hunched and brow scrunched with worry. Though the man was half his height, he scared Ka. He looked like someone who knew how to fight and just might if aggravated.

"Y-yessir, just a bit, sir." Ka stuttered, coming out from behind the wagon. "Look, I promise I mean no harm, sir. I just, well I- I- I was looking for some work is all. He was nice enough to give me a chance. I promise I'll do my best if you'll only let me help."

Farris was silent for several moments, eyeing Ka once more. “Where ye from?”

The giant straightened up a bit, a slight hope welling in his chest. "Benhyke, sir. I'm... trying to find my way back there, actually."

“Never heard of it. So ye mean to tell me yer as tall as a fuckin’ house with no proper sense of direction?” The kitchen master didn’t give Ka a chance to answer before walking over to the cart where Nenani sat. He laid his arm across the drivers bench and looked at the girl. “What say ye Dumplin’? Think he’s some sort of secret assassin tryin’ to worm his way into the castle?”

Nenani blinked and shook her head. “No.”

“Well, if yer so sure,” he said with a small smile and scooped her up. Tucking her into the crook of his arm, he turned back to Ka. The warmth he had spoken to Nenani with was gone and the harsher tone returned. “Ye got a name?”

He scratched his head, still harboring the initial insult in his mind, and had not quite heard him speak to the girl. "What? O-oh I am Ka. And this is--" he paused. At first caution took over, but once he saw the way he cared for Nenani, the fear melted. "--Cairo," he finished.

Upon hearing his name, a single hand came out of the pocket and gave a dramatic wave. "Evening to you, you motherless goat," he called, then the hand disappeared again.

Farris’s expression darkened and, behind him, Yale was making a frantic motion with his hands at Ka that translated roughly to “Bad idea. Stop.”

“I’ll give ye fair warning now, boy,” Farris warned as he walked towards Ka. Pressing further into his space, he stared up at the taller giant and pointed towards his pocket. “Keep that one’s mouth under control or I’ll be doin’ it fer ‘im. I’ve had plenty of humans toss out insults at me and, one way or another, they learn not to. If ye wanna work, I’ve got work fer ye. And you’ll be paid fair wages fer it. But if that one skulking in yer pocket don’t watch it, he’s gonna become intimately acquainted with the inside of a roasting pan.”

Ka's face paled and he backed away, clutching one hand to his pocket. "No! No, please, he's my brother. Y-you can't--I won't..." He seemed to get ahold of himself then, squared his shoulders. "Take that back," he said, regaining his ground. If it were not for the girl in his arms, Ka was not sure what he might have done.

Farris did not back away, and his only movement was to use his free hand to cover Nenani as though to shield her. He met Ka’s eyes with a firm unwavering stare. “I don’t take it back. This is my kitchen and my word is law.” Farris let a small smirk come to his lips. “Just keep in mind though, I didn’t say nothing about actually cookin’ ‘im.”

The giant blinked, relaxing a bit. "What?"

At this point, Cairo heaved a dramatic sigh and pulled himself up. He looked the man up and down and came to a conclusion. "Ugly lump."

Nenani poked her head out from behind Farris’s hand. “No fighting.”

At Nenani's word, Ka took a step back. There was still anger in his blood, and he elected to stay on his toes, but any hostility was snuffed out by the girl's voice.

Farris only adjusted his hand to ruffle her hair. “Well ye ain’t no Blue Thorn Beauty yerself,” Farris shot back at Cairo, then raised an eyebrow at him. “Ain’t ye a bit old fer being carried ‘round like a babe?”

Cairo raised a brow, then patted the chest behind him. "This one here's the baby when it comes down to it, little man. Now--" He cut himself off as if he had heard something. "Alright already," he grumbled at apparently nothing. "What do I have to do to get your sorry bag of bones to do something decent, eh? This boy's half starved."

"Cairo..." Ka hissed through his teeth. "I haven't done the work yet."

Farris huffed and rolled his eyes. “Yale,” he called without taking his eyes from the pair. “Go grab this one one ‘a the leftover meat pies.” He paused, reconsidering the man and his height. “Make that two.”

“Will do, boss,” Yale replied, flashing Ka a wide grin before running off towards the stairway that led into the kitchen proper.

“I don’t run a charity here,” Farris told him sternly. “But if yer gonna be any use to me at all today, it wont be with an empty belly. Ye’ll eat and then ye’ll work. Understand?”

"No," Cairo said blatantly before Ka had a chance.

#crossover with doobdles

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snippetycape1 · 3 years

Text

Alright alright alright alright it's tiiiiiiime. Always wanted to rank the super powers in KnB so now imma do that.

Disclaimer, this won't be about the characters themselves or their attributes, strictly just the skills. If I rank a players skill above another that doesn't necessarily mean I think X character is stronger than Y character or anything this is just signature skill. Also i have watched KnB at least 8 times, and the movie at least three times so if I mess up someone's ability roast me I deserve it.

Now enough nonsense let's do it

#8 Kagami's Super Jumps

Okay don't get me wrong dunking is the coolest move in basketball, but kagami had so many cooler areas of his game that turning him into a dunk beast by the end of the series really takes away his amazing style. Also he says he wants to fight in the air and midorima points out "it doesn't matter how high you jump I know where you're coming and what you're doing" like super hops are great and all but he should've used it for enhancing his other moves.

(Meteor Jam is sick as hell though, ngl)

#7 Aomine Daiki's Formless Shot

Okay, this ability is not bad. It's low mostly because Aomine doesn't use it/need it. He's shown to be so powerful that this is kinda just him fucking around to troll his opponents, which don't get me wrong style points are real, but this is for sure aomine's weakest ability

However it is sooooo deadly, it's powerful but Formless Shot vs. Forced Zone Activation? Yeah don't lie you know which one is way scarier.

#6 Murasakibara Perfect Defense.

Yeah that's right defense is fucking sick. You wish you could defend half as nice as murasakibara. This dude literally fought an uncrowned king, the phantom sixth man, and a runner up generation of miracles candidate on his own at the same time. And only lost to some invisible shots. He covers EVERYTHING!!! if you don't got that DEEP deep range you do not get to play. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, say hello to dikembe mutombo on your way to the bench.

#5 all the dojutsu, yeah that's right I'm naming all the eyes (Emperors, Eagle, Hawk, whatever Nash had) dojutsu. In fact I'm naming Emperors eye Byaku-Shar-Rinne-gan and you cannot stop me. And even though the eye tier list is easy to figure out, the ability to see the whole court is fantastic and any point guard with that level of awareness is deadly. The secondary abilities granted I count as skills not as baseline super powers, i.e. killer handles from akashi (which Kise uses), or seeing a perfect back tip steal opportunity with eagle eye so those aren't on the list. And I think each eye is strong enough to warrant putting them all together here

Now to break the established rule

#4 Kuroko's Phantom series AND God Passes

Yeah that's right, I'm putting techniques in a list I specifically made to not talk about techniques, bite me. Ignite series is top tier, misdirection and misdirection overflow are god tier (yeah so he can use it once, big deal, it's still god tier) and the phantom series are just too fun. If I had to pick one ability from kuroko though for this list purpose, his misdirection is his ability. Yeah it can't be spammed and without it he's nearly useless but ill take a player who can take charges and force opposing players into foul trouble over a ball hog any day.

#3 Midorima Shintaro - High Arcing Three

Okay here's the thing Midorima Shintaro High Arcing Three is a dumb name and I'm mad that I'm placing it this high up on the list but. Objectively. 3>2. So yeah, take your spot with pride green boy. Yeah that's right, I think it's a neat ability but I didn't think it should be this high up, until you sit down and realize yeah cool your sick ass hops and your full paint and midrange defense and your handles are all well and good. But you're getting two points while I get three from anywhere. And don't lie seeing that mid air catch and shoot was the absolute SICKEST thing ever. Akashi liked it so much he straight up STOLE it. Sure dunks are hype but that is the most SKILLFUL thing ever shown. Now to the toppest of top tiers.

#3 Aomine Daiki Forced Zone Activation

Golly Gee Willickers Dai-chan how come your mom let's you have two basketball superpowers. Okay I hate to say it Zone is cool but it sucks that it becomes pretty much required by the end of the series to stay relevant. That being said, Aomine can activate it whenever and that's insane. If Aomine continued training, you realize he'd be nearly if not entirely unstoppable except by arguably only one character in the series

Two if you think Akashi with his eyes could beat Aomine (yeah he beat Kagami's zone, but Akashi even considered Aomine the strongest at teiko, so if aomine stayed serious he'd be even more of an untouchable monster)

#2 Shogo Haizaki - Steal

Okay okay okay okay okay, yes. Technically I'm putting kise twice. Honestly steal is to copy what red eyes is to blue eyes in yugioh. Steal has so much POTENTIAL to be the strongest ability in the entire show. Being able to take the opponents moves away would cripple many players. If Haizaki trained hard he may have even discovered perfect Steal so he could stop the Generation of Miracles techniques, the only two who wouldn't have an issue would be aomine (because technically Formless shot can't really be stolen, he can just do a Formless shot from a different form and just yeah) and Kise (I think kise had more techniques in his toolbox, and that he was too scared to try those moves against haizaki because he was nervous at seeing Steal for the first time). Steal is busted but it has nothing against number one.

#1 Kise Ryota's Copy and PERFECT COPY

Copy is actually insane, while he can't shut down the ability to use a move like Haizaki, being able to do your move but better is probably just as good. Yeah you can use that dunk on me, and yeah you might know how to defend against your move, but im faster stronger and smarter than you. Kise literally just "I am Kakashi of the Sharingan I know 10000 jutsu" nah son I'm Kise Ryota of the musically gifted (love eagleburger) and I know all the basketball moves.

And PERFECT COPY, duuuuuude if you don't think perfect COPY is the best ability in KnB you're actually just not smart. When Kise with perfect copy was THE ACE on a team MADE OF ALL THE ACES, yeah you just straight up win with that ability. Also kise didn't even use it to its max ability, yeah he copies the generation of miracles but they say that he removes the limits of his normal copy so now he can copy anybody. Yeah it takes a huge toll on his body but kise could copy NBA players (likely for even less time than normal perfect copy) if he really wanted to. So yeah, Kise is dumb strong.

That's it, that's my list. Bye.

#the basketball which kuroko plays #kurokos basketball #KnB #kuroko no basket #that basketball

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oh-boy-me · 4 years

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Alright I'm curious about your take on movie night with the undateables, including Luke since this is non- romance. Snack preferences, what movies they choose, funny stories from movie night. Whatever strikes your fancy with the idea is good with me. Thanks in advance!

Sorry it took a little bit (´ω｀。) It’s my first time working with these characters so I wanted to give it my absolute best

I’m setting this up as individual movie nights so that each character can get the spotlight for a while; I hope that’s ok! Also, a lot of them somehow ended up in a context of it being the first time you’d hung out one on one lol

Simeon:

It feels like Simeon spends just about all of his time with Luke and Solomon, while you spend just about all of yours with the brothers. So, you decide to have a movie night to finally spend some time together without having to divide your attention. Purgatory Hall is the obvious choice of location, since its residents are much more ready to leave you alone when asked.

This angel is a traditional kind of guy, as angels tend to be, so popcorn is the only snack idea that comes to mind. Traditional doesn’t mean close-minded, though, so he’s more than willing to try out any snacks you bring along. Actually, he encourages you to bring a bunch of snacks to try out together! You can have a taste test while you watch the movies!

Simeon likes Hallmark movie-type movies a lot, mainly because they demand little emotional investment. Movies like horror don’t scare him, but they do stress him out because he wants all the protagonists to get their happy ending! Another benefit of Hallmark movies is that it’s fun to try to guess exactly what will happen, since they can be so predictable.

Of course, he doesn’t want to monopolize your movie lineup, so if there’s something you want to see he’s all for it. If you want to go for something more thrilling, he’ll power through it like a champ, but you can see him visibly cringing at some points.

Simeon is lowkey a movie cuddler, but like in a way that still respects your personal space bubble. He won’t spend the film with you in his arms or anything, but the entire couch is fair game.

Simeon apparently likes to talk during movies–he doesn’t mean to, but the thoughts kind of just come out. He’s brutally honest about what he’s thinking, so if you’re down with it, talking about and roasting the movie as it’s happening is a load of fun. “I don’t know MC, I don’t think this guy’s all that great either? Sure maybe he isn’t completely ignoring her, but look, he obviously has commitment issues; at least her ex was just busy all the time. Look, Mr. Lone Wolf’s beard is uneven. Why does she want a man who wants to look rugged but can’t get it right?”

Simeon also will accidentally spoil any movie he’s already seen like this, so you’re best off watching films that are new to both of you.

He knew that you were a nice and fun person, but honestly he’s kind of taken aback by how good you are to be around. Since the only human he’s usually around is Solomon, talking to one and not feeling like you need to second-guess everything you’re told is a new and welcome feeling.

Before you split for the night, he asks if you’d like to do something like this again. As an angel, there’s a lot that he hasn’t experienced–a lot of food, a lot of activities, a lot of media–and you’re someone that he feels like he would be comfortable trying new things with. You can expect lots of texts like, “Hello! I hope you’re doing wellヾ(＾-＾)ノ Are you free tomorrow?”

Luke:

You probably decide to have a movie night after Luke ends up spending way longer than he expected to in the kitchen at the House of Lamentation. On the condition that absolutely no demons are to join you two! Ok maybe Beel and Levi are ok but absolutely no one else! After a call to Simeon explaining that he isn’t coming back to Purgatory Hall tonight you guys are good to go.

He always brings baked goods when he comes over, plus whatever he was working on in the kitchen, so you’re more than covered! The majority of it is things like cookies and fudge bark. They’re easy snacks to grab a handful of.

Luke tries to insist that he wants to watch a movie with lots of violence or a horror film, or any other kind of movie that teenagers sneak into. He’s doing it because he’s so frustrated with everyone calling him a kid when he’s centuries older than a human will ever be, stop making fun of him!! For his sake and yours, you should tell him that you don’t want to watch that sort of movie, because if you let him get away with it he’ll get too freaked out in the first 20 minutes.

Most likely you’ll end up having a Disney marathon. They’re so fun, and since the Celestial Realm is pretty isolated when it comes to cultural exchange, he’s only seen a couple, so you can show him your favorites! Also, he’s not crying. No, you saw that wrong.

He starts off on the other side of the couch, one again trying to be mature and shit, but that won’t last long. Anyone who sees you huddled together like that will be punched in the gut with the sheer level of sibling energy y’all are radiating. Lucifer almost doesn’t want to mock him. Almost.

That thing where immediately after consuming a piece of media, you imagine yourself as part of that universe? Luke loves to talk about that sort of thing. “If I lived there, I’d have given Gaston a piece of my mind!” “Ok but if I was a piece of furniture what do you think I’d be? I can totally see you being a��”

“I think you’d be the footstool that acts like a dog, Luke.” “Hey, Lucifer, you weren’t invited to our party!!”

You might (will) have to fend off a few nosy demon brothers to protect your demon-free movie lair. Luke swears that next time you have to come over to Purgatory Hall, but he’s having way more fun here than he’s willing to admit.

He also learns that most of the brothers will listen to you without complaint. He will definitely keep this in mind.

This kid angel has so much energy, how is he still awake after five movies? You absolutely have to establish a bedtime because he literally will not go to bed until you do.

Solomon:

It’s quite rare for you to have a break from the seven avatars of attention hogging, so if you’re going to have a movie night, Purgatory Hall may as well be a godsend.

You may want to be careful about getting there, because if Asmo catches wind that you and Solomon are having a movie night without him, he’s going to show up unannounced and then refuse to leave. Solomon can come pick you up if you need. Just, he’ll be waiting a block away so Asmo can’t catch up.

Solomon is a “dinner and a show” kinda guy. He will offer to make dinner. Do not let him do this. Either make it yourself or order takeout.

You’ll pretty easily agree on alternating who chooses the movie. You get the first, he gets the second, you get the third, etc. Definitely isn’t letting you choose first to lure you into a false sense of security about the DVD in his hand, what made you think that?

Solomon is the kind of person to lie about what sort of movie he’s put in. “Solomon what is this supposed to be?” “Oh, don’t worry about it.” It’s gonna be a weird movie. You just have to wait and see.

He is going to rip into your movie choices. He liked how they worked with this, and that was impressive, but these bits? Did they think they could get away with that? What was the budget? Rest assured, though, he expects you to do the same for him. In fact, he’ll be quite disappointed if you don’t.

He prefers a setup on his bed rather than on the couch. He’s also one of the ones who keeps to himself in terms of personal space, although that’s not to say that he isn’t relaxed. Some might say he’s too relaxed, but that’s just who he is: too relaxed in any situation. On the surface, at least.

As the only humans in the Devildom, some of the night is probably spent reminiscing on how different things tend to be here. Solomon does feel bad that you in particular have had to make so many changes to your life and habits with no warning. He has his magic to rely on, so he’s glad you have your reputation of “the human that made a pact with the student council” to keep demons from messing with you.

If you want, he’s happy to let you sleep over so that you don’t have to explain why you’re coming home so late. He also encourages you to not say anything to your dorm mates. Wouldn’t it be fun to make them wonder? They’re always breathing down your neck, aren’t they? Make them squirm a little bit. You’re going to get a scolding for sneaking out regardless. It’s incredibly cruel; you know they worry sick about you more than is called for. Will you play along? That’s up to you. I advise you not to.

Like Simeon felt like he needed to second-guess everything around a bunch of demons and Solomon, Solomon sometimes feels like he needs to keep himself guarded around a bunch of demons and two literal angels. You, however, are a human. You have common ground, and Solomon can see how your vulnerability here translates into strength. He’s not quite ready to admit it but, your ability to survive on character and not power is inspiring to him. Shortly before you go home/to sleep, he mentions something about himself, and for once it seems like he’s being honest.

Barbatos:

You have the movie night at the House of Lamentation, under Lucifer’s promise that he’d keep everyone else busy. It’s Barbatos’ first day off in 325 years, and he doesn’t want to take any chances of Diavolo forgetting that fact and giving him an order.

It may come as a surprise, but Barbatos wants nothing more than to order a pizza. If he managed to get enough time off to have a movie night with you, he doesn’t want to have to think about preparing food. A single night where he can just hang out and eat less than perfectly prepared cuisine is exactly what he needs to unwind.

Out of habit, he insists that whatever you want to watch is fine. If you remind him that this is just as much for him as it is for you, he’ll suggest you look up what new psychological thrillers are trending. Whenever a scary scene is playing on the screen, there’s the tiniest smile gracing his face the whole time. It’s a little disconcerting, but something tells you that you shouldn’t bring it up.

If you do bring it up against all better judgement, though, he’ll explain that the villain in the film is being so messy. Given the circumstances, it’d be better for him to do this or that.

“Don’t ask how I know all of this. I’m just saying, if you find yourself with a body to dispose of, alive or not, you know who to call.”

Time spent with an off-duty Barbatos grows more relaxed as the night progresses. You split the sofa 50/50, and over time you can see his posture relax from stiff and straight to leaning against the arm with his feet up.

Oh, yes, he’s also brought along a nice bottle of wine to share. He made sure to get something that should affect demons and humans equally, of course. If he’s going to get inebriated, you’re going down with him.

Turns out, working for the Demon Prince for all eternity gives you a few grievances. Also turns out that the Demon Prince’s butler becomes quite loose lipped and downright snarky when he’s had enough to drink. “‘Which flavor do you think Lucifer would like best?’ I don’t know, My Lord, might I suggest you ask him yourself? No, no, I hear you laughing, MC! This happens every time!”

There’s still a movie playing, but why would you watch a movie when Diavolo’s butler is such a gossip? You definitely know things you shouldn’t by the time the night is over, but you swear an oath of secrecy. And, although he regrets how liberal he was with his stories the next day, it does feel nice to have some of that off his chest.

And, well, he’s already gone this far, so he hopes you aren’t too surprised when you receive a text from him a week later: “Ok SO.”

Diavolo:

You guys decide to do the movie night at the palace, mainly to avoid Lucifer. Diavolo wants to get to know you better, and he knows that if Lucifer is around he’ll end up making you the third-wheel.

Barbatos is going to be around, so Diavolo leaves it up to you whether you want to make it a party of three. (Barbatos is still in on-duty mode, of course, so his time here is much less relaxed than in his solo scenario.)

Diavolo’s read about movie nights in Youthful Fun 101, and he wants to try out the whole snack list. Popcorn, pizza rolls, sodas, you name it, he’s got mountains of it.

If you suggest also making ice cream sundaes, he’ll be the happiest demon in the entire Devildom. It seems that the esteemed Demon Prince really loves chocolate sauce.

Really really wants to watch your favorite movie. What sort of Devildom host would he be if he didn’t get to understand the Human World from his guest’s perspective? Whether it’s something like Gone with the Wind or something like Barbie in a Mermaid Tale 2, he’s enthralled. So this is Human World cinema! There’s something so imaginative about it, even in the driest moments!

After your favorite, he’s got a checklist of iconic movies to get under his belt. Not all of them end up holding your attention, and you develop a voting system–after the first 15 minutes, you hold a vote on whether to keep the movie going or to move on. Since there’s only two of you, only one of you needs to like the movie to keep it going, so you give yourselves one immediate veto each.

Diavolo uses his veto on the first movie he wasn’t super into, and you have to keep reminding him that there’s no secret second veto that he can use. Cut him some slack, this level of democracy is unfamiliar to the future Demon King. He does end up really liking some of the movies he tried to avoid, so he learns to chill pretty quickly.

Also insists on watching the movies in a massive blanket fort. He’s not a movie cuddler, per se, but he is an emotional movie watcher, so you can expect him to grab your arm during an especially sweet or sad scene.

You’re going to have to clarify what’s realistic and what isn’t sometimes. No, that’s not a real animal. Yes, that event really happened. That may or may not be true, we aren’t sure. Diavolo please this is a conspiracy theory.

If you thought that this wouldn’t end up in a sleepover, I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe you just tried to watch way too many movies and passed out in the fort. Maybe you tried to call it quits and then he gave you big puppy dog eyes until you agreed to have a slumber party.

Side note, but Lucifer is still recovering from seeing Diavolo’s car appear unannounced at the House of Lamentation and then being told that it’s actually here to pick you up and that he absolutely can’t come along. Has he been replaced?

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me swd #swd obey me #obey me shall we date #shall we date obey me #obey me!#obey me headcanons #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #nerieda

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monstersandmaw · 4 years

Text

Male changeling x female reader - Part Three (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Wow, I’ve had Issues™ trying to post this tonight. Anyway, here is a late Sunday treat for you, after being up on my Patreon for a week on early release.

This is part three, in which we go to the Spring Equinox Festival in the little village of Iska's Well, and meet someone there that we were not expecting!

Contents: fluff, smut, a bit of feels/angst amid the smut, some more smut, and a sappy ending. Knotting, unprotected sex (fem. reader is on the Pill), and Dunnock's shape-shifting. Words: 5189

Previously: the reader took some time off work to go back to her father’s old cabin in the woods just outside of the tiny hamlet of Iska’s Well, where she rescued a monstrous creature - part bear, part wolf, part... fae - from a nasty trap, and realised that those ethereal blue eyes were the same shade as those of the little boy with whom she used to play in the woods there as a child...

Part One, Part Two

The equinox festival was just as Dunnock had said - the entirety of the little hamlet, plus the outlying farmsteads and houses, poured into the clearing between the trees, filling it with lively music and chatter. Someone had organised a hog roast, and there was a vegetarian stand too, while in another corner a couple of local cider and schnapps makers had set up stalls of their own. The mile or so walk along the road from the cabin had warmed you up since there as still a bit of a nip to the air, but the huge bonfire that was crackling merrily in the centre of the clearing provided a welcome source of heat and light, as well as a focus for the gathering.

A small folk band had assembled on one side of the clearing and their lighthearted tunes drifted across the crackling fire towards you, drawing you in like a chant in a temple.

You weren’t usually the type who just showed up at things like this on your own, but something about the event had seemed more inviting than usual, and the moment that Martha from the village store noticed your arrival, she bustled over and began to coo over you.

“Oh, my dear, you look lovely!” Martha crooned, “I’m so glad you came. Let’s get you a drink and introduce you to some folks, alright?”

“Sure,” you smiled, amused by her genuine warmth and somewhat busybody nature. The only thing that was lacking was Dunnock. Of course, he couldn’t have attended something like this with so many people, and your heart weighed heavy in your chest at his absence.

It became clear almost instantly that Martha was trying to set you up with someone’s nephew, much to the chagrin of both of you. However, the moment you both cottoned on, you grinned at each other and reached an unspoken agreement to get along just to get them to stop fussing.

Robin, it turned out, was actually incredibly sweet, and not interested in the least bit in women, and you sat on a log together and spoke for almost an hour about his work as a potter. He had just begun to experiment with using the natural clay of the area to make his wares, slips, and glazes, and was selling both online and in the local shop. Interesting though it was, after a while you started to get a little chilly. Rubbing your arms, you had just amicably excused yourself and stood up with the intention of heading closer to the large fire in the centre of the gathering when a movement out of the corner of your eye snagged your attention away from quiet Robin and his talk of pottery.

A tall, broad-shouldered man had just arrived and was apparently staring straight at you from across the leaping flames. Sparks whirled suddenly upwards into the sky as a fire-blanched log crumbled further into the heart of the blaze, and as they twisted wildly and glittered like white hot moths, you caught a flash of intense, supernatural blue on the far side.

Your heart lurched and leapt in your chest and you instinctively turned your eyes upwards to look for the moon in the sky.

A huge, pearlescent, completely full moon hung low over the trees, silvering the needles with its soft light and you gasped as you snapped your attention back to the young man. Dunnock’s words about only being able to shift on the full moon washed back into your mind and your jaw went slack as you stared at the stranger.

Wearing a well-loved and much-patched, waxed fabric jacket in a nondescript shade of brown, he walked slowly around the stones of the fire pit, with hands shoved deep into his pockets and his gaze locked on your face. When he came to a halt in front of you, you stared openly at him.

“Dunnock?” you hissed and his full lips twitched, eyes twinkling. He had a short, dark beard that looked surprisingly well-cared for, and although his skin was weathered, it still carried all those myriad freckles you remembered from the little barefoot boy. “Is it really you?”

He blinked slowly - that telltale, slow, almost lazy movement giving him away as much as the colour of the eyes behind the long, thick lashes. “Surprised?” he asked in a husky baritone.

“Uh, yeah?” you snorted, smacking him playfully on the chest with the back of your hand. “Look at you! Wow! And why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

His answering chuckle - low and deeply satisfied - set heat tingling between your legs and you bit your lower lip. His blue gaze shifted to your mouth as he replied, “I wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”

“Well you did!” you laughed. “And wow, you… you grew up handsome!” You laughed and brushed your index finger fleetingly along his dark, close-cropped beard and added, “I like this.”

Before he could answer, Martha had reappeared at your elbow like an unwanted hummingbird and looking a little put out at the potential rival for your affections. She looked Dunnock up and down as if he were the town’s unwholesome rascal, and tutted softly. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” she said rather tartly.

You looked from her to Dunnock and unthinkingly opened your mouth, “This is…”

“Dan,” he interrupted, extending a rough hand to her. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Martha,” she said and he quirked his lips a little and inclined his head. “You two know each other then?”

“Oh, we go way back,” you grinned, digging Dunnock in the ribs. His torso was invitingly solid beneath the softness of the jacket. “I just didn’t know he was going to be here tonight.”

The changeling was still grinning his lopsided smirk when Martha’s little gaggle of friends appeared to sweep her away like an unwelcome flock of cooing doves, and he tugged your arm and twitched his head towards the other side of the fire pit where there was a small dance space.

“Dance with me,” he murmured in your ear and you nodded, suddenly breathless as he slid his hands into yours.

You weren’t the only ones moving softly to the folky music from the little group nearby, but everything faded to two pinpricks of blue in no time. It felt like the most natural thing in the world as Dunnock’s rough hand slid to your waist. He held you close and you inhaled the soft, mossy scent of him.

For a long while, neither of you spoke, letting your bodies take over, pressing closer and closer with each step until you tilted your head to look up at him and saw an even brighter blue light burning in his gaze. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered without breaking step. His grip twitched slightly and he blurted, “I want to kiss you…”

With a smile you slid your hand from his shoulder up to his neck and gently scrunched a fistful of the grey-brown hair at the nape of his neck in your fingers. He swallowed - growling audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, pupils widening, pulse thudding in his neck. Gently drawing him down to you, you kissed him.

The soft groan he made as the two of you kissed kindled something warm, flickering, and a little fragile inside you again. He kissed you breathless until you drew back, laughing quietly. His hand had sunk to the very base of your spine, and he stared at you with slightly glassy eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you again,” he admitted.

“I didn’t know it was a full moon tonight, otherwise I might have stayed at the cabin instead of coming here.”

He twirled you softly beneath his outstretched arm, resuming the dance as if you’d never paused. “Then I wouldn’t have got to dance with you,” he said in a low, soft voice. Gods, but it was doing things to you that you hadn’t known your body wanted to do any more. It made you ache everywhere, inside and out until you weren’t sure you could bear it any longer.

The warmth of his palms and the closeness of his body drew you even closer to him and you laid your cheek against his chest. “Would you still have… looked like this if you’d come to the cabin tonight?” you asked hesitantly.

“Mn,” he hummed. “I wanted to show you, but I was… in two minds.”

Your head twitched up to look at him and you found a complicated expression on his handsome face. “Why?”

He rolled his big blue eyes and shook his head. “Can’t you guess? I look like… that for most of the month…”

“And you think I’d, what, regret you showing me this somehow?”

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Dunnock…?”

“Mmm?”

“Kiss me again?”

Unquestioningly, he did, and you poured as much of your heart into the gesture as you could, this time leaving him breathless and dazed instead. “Stop,” he growled playfully, “People are staring.”

“Let them.”

How long you danced and talked and shared food beneath the moon that night, you couldn’t have said, but it felt like hours. The moon rose fully and then began to dip towards the trees as midnight came and went.

“You want to head back to the cabin?” Dunnock eventually asked as the pair of you sat on the log, fingers intertwined in his lap, thumbs tracing idle arcs over each other’s skin.

For an answer, you stretched up and kissed him and he laughed quietly, though he returned the gesture with the same enthusiasm he’d had for it all night. With a nod, you slipped away through the trees with him. You could feel the eyes of a few of the remaining village folk boring into your retreating backs and figured you’d probably be the talk of the place for a while. Whatever. Let them gossip away.

The pair of you had barely gone ten paces when he winced and grunted softly.

“Dunnock?”

“M’fine,” he mumbled, catching your hand in his and squeezing fiercely. He stopped walking and drew you close to him with an easy tug, and then with a fervour that had apparently only been in the background before, he kissed you so hard you saw stars. Groaning behind the kiss, he backed you up against a tall pine and ran his hands along your jaw and into your hair, breathing hard.

With a frenzied gasp, you tipped your head to one side and he began to leave nipping, rough kisses down the exposed skin, all teeth and tongue and desire.

“I want you, Dunnock,” you found yourself moaning, rolling your hips against him and finding him more than half hard already.

He bit off another grunt and buried his nose against your neck. “I want you too,” he snarled. “Gods, I want you…”

“Come on then,” you grinned, wriggling free and tugging him down the path through the pines towards the road.

He walked beside you, holding your hand and protecting you from any oncoming traffic by placing himself between you and it, though you only passed one car on your whole walk back.

The moment you stepped off the road and onto the gravel track that led to the cabin, he kissed you again.

Tactile in a way that you’d only suspected until now, Dunnock was a sensitive and vocal lover. Soft, animalistic growls emanated from him from time to time, reminding you that he was not human despite his current appearance. When his eyes were closed, it was easy to forget that he was a changeling, a Fae, and that he spent much of his time in a form that was very much not-human.

At the foot of the stairs to the cabin, he lost patience completely and picked you up, hoisting you up so that you had to hook your thighs around his hips while he held you. He backed you into the cabin door hard enough to drive the wind from your chest for a moment, and he began to growl and snarl softly as he kissed every inch of exposed skin that he could reach.

“You’re so beautiful,” he chanted over and over as he worshipped you, setting your skin tingling with each kiss, each nip of his teeth, the scratch of his beard and the press of his fingers into the muscles and curves of your body.

You were wet and shivering with want by the time you finally managed to convince him to put you down long enough to unlock the cabin door. In a rush punctuated with more kisses, the pair of you began to strip in the living area of the cabin. You only managed to get his shirt off before he was back, hands beneath your own top, lifting it up so that he could kiss down between your breasts before dropping down to kiss your bare stomach on his knees with obvious reverence.

It took some work, but you finally convinced him to get back on his feet so you could finish undressing him, and you worked your fingers into the corded muscles of his back in encouragement. He threw his head back and let out a broken, shuddering moan; half howl and half snarl. None of the noises he made could have been mistaken for human in the slightest.

“You like that?” you asked, raking your nails over his tanned back before shifting them to undo the old brass buckle of his worn leather belt and the button of his jeans.

“Mnph,” he grunted before surging forwards and tipping you carefully back onto the hearth rug. He loomed over you, biceps bunched as they bore his weight with easy grace while his hips ground against your body.

“Clothes off,” you barked, cutting off roughly as he drew back the cup of your bra to lave his tongue around your hardening nipple before taking it between his teeth and sucking briefly. “Ah - Dunnock!” you grunted. The sound of his name seemed to penetrate the fog clouding his mind and he leaned back.

“I…” he blinked slightly, still holding a perfect, unwavering plank above you. “I shouldn’t…” he faltered, panting. “We should…”

“We should keep going,” you encouraged emphatically, “But we need to take the rest of our clothes off first.”

“Are you sure?” he asked in a tiny voice, doubt flooding into his handsome features. “I’m not even human…”

“I know,” you smiled. “Dunnock, I want you.”

His blue eyes rolled closed and he lowered himself back down to lie atop you, his weight pressing you into the soft rug beneath as he breathed in the scent of your skin and hair for a moment.

“Dunnock?”

He groaned again but didn’t move.

“What is it?”

“My name,” he finally mumbled into your hair. “When you speak my name…”

“But it’s not your True Name,” you scoffed, remembering what he’d said about the Fae and the power of True Names. “Is it?”

“I have no other,” he said and you went perfectly still beneath him.

“Tonight…” you began, casting your mind back, “When I introduced you to Martha… You stopped me speaking your name.”

“Mmm.”

“Dunnock…”

He shuddered almost violently and mouthed at your pulse point with his teeth, grinding his groin against you; claiming you.

“Dunnock…” you whispered right against the shell of his ear and he let out another fractured, wounded noise. “Roll over…” you said, encouraging him to lie on his back so that you could finally finish undressing him.

He splayed out almost comically, arms outstretched, thighs slightly apart, chest rising and falling rapidly as his inhuman, lust-blown eyes tracked your every movement. Your fingers worked the still-open waistband of his jeans down and over his hips, and he helped a little by lifting himself up. His legs were lean and muscled, and as you skated your palms up his bare thighs, he shuddered and began to gasp and pant. His erection made an obvious tent in his boxers and you palmed it, feeling the hard heat of him, and he tipped his head back, exposing his throat, and keened.

As his thighs began to tremble, you continued to palm him through the fabric of his boxers and he rocked his head from side to side under the delicious torment. Eventually he grunted your name and moved as if trying to take himself in his hand and do what you had only hinted at. Swatting his hand away, you relented and drew his black boxer-briefs off as well.

His erection sprang free, printing a bead of pre-come onto his abs and leaving a connecting line from his stomach to his cock. It twitched and you watched his balls clench a little under your gaze. “You’re beautiful, Dun,” you smiled.

His answering reaction wasn’t quite what you’d expected, and his eyes turned sad.

Hoping to distract him from his thoughts, you took his cock in your hand and ducked low to lick a long stripe from base to tip. He reared a little into the gesture and then fell back against the rug, head clonking on the floor as he collapsed. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Fuck, that’s - ah - that’s so good…” he panted as you squeezed his cock and worked your hand up his shaft, your free hand cupping his balls and stroking them gently.

When you thumbed through the pre-come that was beading profusely at the tip, he gave another broken grunt and his hips rose again, toes curling.

“You’re so sensitive,” you smiled.

“I…” he began, but he cut off, cheeks flushing. The heat crept down his face, warmth spreading visibly all the way to his collarbones. He tried again. “I’ve never…”

That made you pause. “You’ve never been with anyone?”

He shook his head, eyes closed.

Heat roared inside you knowing that he trusted you enough to do this with you, and you redoubled your efforts to make this feel good for him.

It obviously worked because he slowly became a shivering, whimpering mess as you worked him, easing off when it got too much, and increasing the pressure when he started to relax again.

“You’re going to kill me,” he rasped some time later. “Please… I can’t…” and he eased himself up onto one shaky elbow and looked at you with those searingly blue eyes. “Please…” he breathed.

“You want me to make you come?” you asked. “Or do you want…” you bit your lip. You were on the pill, and clean, and if he hadn’t been with anyone, it should be safe enough… It wasn’t exactly safe sex, per se, but somehow you figured you could deal with anything else later. The risks were low enough. “Do you want to go further?”

Shyly, he nodded.

“Which?”

“Further. I want you… it’s all I’ve been able to think about for days…”

“You’ve thought about me while getting off at night, have you?” you asked teasingly, suddenly imagining Dunnock as he was in his other form, huge and dark, with those big teeth and clawed hands, lying on his back in a bed of bracken with his big cock in his hand, moaning your name. You felt yourself grow wetter at the mere thought of it, lust coiling.

Dunnock gasped again, but this time it wasn’t anything you’d done. He grunted softly in pain and grimaced, his stomach clenching.

“Dunnock? You ok?”

“Mn,” he hummed, though he’d gone a shade or two paler. “Please…?” he asked, opening his eyes and looking a touch frantic.

“Alright…” you smiled. “How do you want me?”

He looked up at you and seemed a little lost for words.

“You want me to ride you?” you asked coyly, trailing a fingertip up his thigh and sending him sprawling flat onto his back again. “Yes?”

Dunnock nodded, cock twitching and drooling. “Yes…”

Straddling his hips, you dragged your wet heat over him and he arched into you, mouth opening. His canines were longer than you remembered them being, but you didn’t have time to think more on that as he adjusted his position beneath you and his tip slid inside you.

He froze, but you instinctively rocked back against him, taking him deep inside you and he let out a long, low, keening howl that was anything but human.

After pausing to let yourself adjust to taking his cock fully inside you at that intense angle, you rolled your hips a few times and his breath began to quicken, harsh and loud.

“Oh gods,” he swore, writhing a little. “Oh gods… You feel so good. You’re so tight… so hot… I… oh gods… I can’t…”

The way he filled you was delicious, enough to drive the air from your lungs with the perfection of each stroke, and you’d pitched forwards with your hands braced on his shoulders. Sweat glistened at the ‘v’ of his throat, and he was noticeably trembling all over. His skin was still paler than you recalled from earlier.

“Dunnock?” you asked and he whimpered. Pausing your rhythm, you called his name again, but this time he didn’t respond. “Dunnock? Look at me?”

Reluctantly, he did and you found his eyes blazing even brighter. “I…” he struggled to talk suddenly and tears rimmed his eyes. “I think I’m going to shift…” he whispered. “I can feel it… I… Oh gods, no… I’m sorry…”

Tears spilled suddenly down his cheeks and disappeared into his thick, ash brown hair, and his hands moved to your hips with a fluttering hesitancy that reminded you of butterfly wings.

“No…” he all but sobbed.

“You need me to move?” you asked and he nodded.

Drawing off him left you feeling empty, but your concern for Dunnock took precedent over anything else.

He’d begun to spasm a little now and he pushed himself up onto all fours, cock somehow still flushed hard and drooling pre-come liberally onto the bare floorboards despite the pain evident in the rest of his body. “Don’t look,” he hissed, but the sound turned into a growl as his back rounded like an angry cat and thick, black hair began to ripple down his spine from the nape of his neck to his tail bone. “Please…” His voice distorted, becoming deeper and rougher as his body changed.

There was nowhere for you to go while he shifted, but you looked away, and in only minute or so, it was over. “Dunnock?” you asked when the dull crack of shifting bones had faded and all that filled the room was the sound of his heavy breathing.

“It’s over,” he said in a winded, dejected voice.

There, still hunched over on all fours but much larger, was the Dunnock you had met in the forest: dark, rippling fur; large paws, claws; a slender, strong body; stocky hind legs and long forelimbs; a head somewhere between that of a wolf and a bear, with long canines and fierce blue eyes; and the soft, leaf-shaped ears of a deer.

You had barely moved from where you’d rolled out of his way, but now you came back to him on your hands and knees and sat beside him. He turned his face away, ears pinned flat against his head, horrified.

“Dunnock, look at me,” you said again.

“No…” he snarled, voice a little deeper now, but just as rough as before. “I… I should go.”

“Please don’t…” you blurted, reaching for his arm.

He flinched away as your fingers touched his soft fur, but you refused to let go. Squeezing the solid band of muscle around his upper arm, you shook him gently. “Dunnock…” you repeated. “Nothing’s changed…”

In a flash, he whipped his head around to face you, eyes blazing, teeth bared. “Everything has changed,” he snarled; a vicious, volatile creature. “Look at me!”

“I am looking!” you fired back fiercely. “And I’m telling you that nothing has changed about the way I feel for you.”

At that, Dunnock went completely still. Unblinkingly, he stared at you, and then lowered one hip to the ground to sit, stunned, and continue staring at you.

“Say something?” you half laughed, vaguely thinking about covering up now. Was it too late? Had the moment truly passed?

“What do you want me to say?” he asked in a heartbreakingly broken whisper. “I wanted one night with you. And I couldn’t even have that…”

“Sun’s not up yet,” you smiled. “Though I’m assuming the moon has set?”

“Probably,” he said. “I don’t normally stay shifted for the whole night anyway. I thought… I thought I had more time…”

An idea occurred to you and you shuffled a little closer. He watched you warily, but let you put your hands on his flank. You stroked gentle circles there, smiling as he involuntarily began to stretch that hind leg out under the invitation of your touch, taloned toes flexing. “Lie down again for me?” you asked and to your surprise, he complied.

He didn’t take his intense eyes off you though.

Splaying your fingers wide, you ran them the ‘wrong’ way up through the thick fur of his belly and chest, and he shuddered bodily, head rocking back again.

Nothing’s changed, Dunnock,” you said again, and mounted his hips in a single smooth motion as if straddling a skittish horse. He was significantly larger like this, and his cock had retreated into what appeared to be a large sheath, covered with short, velvety black fur. As you rocked your hips over it, feeling it nudge luxuriantly against your wet, swollen clit, he let out another dark moan and whispered your name.

“You… You don’t have to…” he began, but you cut him off with a second roll of your hips.

“I want to,” you said fiercely, grabbing a fistful of the thick fur at his shoulders in each hand and tugging. “I want you, Dunnock.”

In response, he rocked his hips against you a little and his jaw slackened a touch to reveal the monstrous teeth behind his black lips. It didn’t take him long for his cock to slide free of the sheath, and you glanced down to see that it was thick, beautiful, flushed red, and drooling everywhere.

To your surprise, a second later, he rose up and bowled you over onto your back to switch positions with you. “Is this alright?” he managed to gasp as he paused with his tip lined up with you, teasing you.

“Yes!” you cried, spreading your legs wider in invitation. “Please, Dunnock, I need you.”

In his present form, he loomed over you, dark and hulking and nothing but muscle and teeth and fur and blazing blue eyes. He seated himself inside you in a single stroke that left you both winded and reeling.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hissed, bringing his muzzle down to your ear. His hot breath fanned out over your skin and down your neck, bringing goosebumps to life along your whole body, and sparking pleasure along your spine with the sheer size of him inside you like this.

“Move, Dunnock,” you grunted, reaching for his ribs with your hands and scratching your nails along his skin.

A series of tremors ran through him, though whether it was from your touch or the repeated use of his name, you couldn’t tell, but either way, he did start moving. Slowly at first, as though afraid of hurting you, he nudged his hips against yours, but when you hooked your legs up around his waist and drew yourself further onto his cock, he let out a deep, shuddering growl.

His teeth clacked as his jaw worked, and a moment later he had opened his mouth and latched his maw gently around your neck. He was holding you in place with everything he had as he picked up the speed and force of his pace, pounding into you. Soon, each thrust had you seeing stars, and he seemed to be stretching you wider and wider each time. Drool slid down your neck from between his teeth and his rough tongue laved at your skin before he withdrew the sharp points of his teeth and reared up, catching you deep and making your back arch. The sensations were almost too much. A searing, white hot need was building, coiling, crescendoing inside you in a way you’d never experienced before.

“I’m going to knot you…” he suddenly admitted, raising his head. The thought of that took you by surprise and then left you delighted at the idea. “Fuck… I…”

“Dunnock!” you gasped, snatching breaths between each powerful, mind-blankingly beautiful stroke. “I want you. I’m so close. Dunnock, I want all of you…”

And with that, you felt what had to be the knot at the base of his cock slide inside you. A second later, Dunnock came with a roar, hips flush to yours as he emptied himself into you. Over and over his hips almost spasmed, his powerful legs thrusting into you as deep as he could get, filling you, and as he came, so your own vision blanked out and you clenched around him.

“Oh gods,” you heard him curse as you came, milking every drop from him. “Fuck… oh gods…” and the rest of his orgasm rammed into him. Every muscle was locked, rigid and trembling as the force of it ripped through him.

It took a long time for his orgasm to fade, but when it did, he seemed to crumple, all the strength leaving his immensely powerful body in one go. He sagged forwards on top of you, barely taking his weight on his elbows as his spine bowed downwards and he lay on top of you, seated deep and breathing hard.

Your hands traced patterns through his fur until he was finally able to withdraw some minutes later, the loss of his knot and cock leaving you almost devastatingly empty again. His release slid out of you, over your thighs and onto the floorboards. He whispered your name and you felt the power of it thrum through you.

In answer, you breathed his own True Name back at him. “Dunnock…”

After that, he staggered to his feet and then easily picked you up, placing your exhausted body onto the bed in the corner. He joined you after a perfunctory clean, and the heat of his body as he nuzzled up beside you sent you drifting towards a blissful sleep. “Stay?” you managed to hiss. “Please? Don’t go back to the forest tonight.”

“Mm,” he replied, tucking you tightly against his side with a lethal-taloned paw and drawing the covers up over both of you. “I’ll stay.”

With the comforting pressure of his body cocooning yours and the weight of his arm slung over your waist, you let your body be finally claimed by sleep; memories of sparking embers and searing blue eyes swirling through your mind’s eye.

“Dunnock,” you breathed one more time as you teetered on the fragile edge of waking and sleeping.

“Mmm?”

“Dunnock.”

___

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#exophilia #changeling #fae #male fae #male fae x female reader #male monster #female reader #changeling x reader #male changeling x female reader #fae boyfriend #changeling boyfriend

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gaysofzaun · 4 years

Text

So @dinahdarling and @witchertrashbag made a post about Jaskier and Vesemir and there was another post about Jaskier in Kaer Morhen being an absolute slut for Witcher’s, and Vesemir’s casting was announced which either inspired it or just fanned the flames and I started to bullshit in the tags of one of my posts and found out there was a tag limit…

which turned into me this half head canon half story mess about Geralt bringing Jaskier to Kaer Morhen after he finds Ciri but before they confess any feelings…

this is an incoherent mess and not at all what i normally write but I couldn’t get the idea of it out of my head and I’m writing another serious geraskier fic so i need it out and here we are, we’re dying like men in this Chili’s tonight

....

Jaskier flirts with Vesemir as soon as he sets eyes on the older Witcher, he gets that cheeky smile like a cat that’s spotted a dish of cream. Vesemir, the old bastard, just chuckles, good natured. The old Witcher finds the bard absolutely charming and to the shock of everyone in Kaer Morhen, Vesemir flirts right back.

It sets a precedent for their relationship. Jaskier flirts, lays it on real thick, and Vesemir gives it right back. He likes to listen to Jaskier sing older songs, historical ballads and such and Jaskier loves to hear Vesemir’s stories.

“He’s much more eloquent than you are darling.” Jaskier tells him after the first week, transcribing his notes on sheets of spare parchment he’d filched from the library, already more comfortable in a castle full of witchers than he has any business being. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, he is! When I ask him to elaborate he does so in more that’s two syllables!”

He listens with rapt attention and Vesemir enjoys the feeling of those bright blue eyes.

Makes him feel young again he says, while Lambert pukes exaggeratedly over his shoulder.

Jaskier and Eskel fuck after the first month.

Geralt‘s out for morning meditation with Ciri and Vesemir and on his way down to the courtyard he sees jaskier slip out Eskel‘s door looking sleep warmed and ruffled, love bites all along his neck and chest and thighs.

Eskel’s a biter and Jaskier writes a drinking song about it.

and Geralt feels… funny about it, he can’t concentrate enough to slip into a meditative state, he’s jittery. Ciri asks him if he’s ok, he doesn’t know

he has to excuse himself when Eskel finally joins them looking so satisfied and loose and smirking into the middle distance and Geralt’s chest floods with … something vicious. It happens so suddenly he shocks himself out of it and doesn’t really know what happened

When it happens again, they’re all getting drunk over a big roast hog that geralt and eskel hunted in the valley to mark the changing of the seasons (minus Ciri, but Eskel and Lambert let her have sips of their ale when they think Geralt isn't looking) when Jaskier and Lambert disappear for a bit

Geralt looks up from his conversation with Vesemir and they‘re gone and he just stops and goes a little cold in his gut, then there they are

Lambert looks extremely satisfied, eyes lidded, unhurried, and jaskier’s looking very smug indeed and then and then the little shit looks fondly irritated when lambert fucking whispers something in his ear.

It’s too low for Geralt to hear, but it must be funny because Jaskier just smacks him playfully and Lambert laughs and Geralt wants to break everything. Then Ciri is asking him if he’s ok and Jaskier looks over at him and there’s concern in those blue eyes.

Geralt is not ok

it all comes to a head when Lambert says some dumb shit in the training yard. It’s harmlessly cocky. Just Lambert being Lambert.

Jaskier is fucking lounging on the ruins of the crumbling wall above the yard, long lines warming in the sun and loose shirts with plunging necklines to reveal the beginnings of his chest hair.

It’s distracting. Geralt tries not to look at him too hard.

He’s plucking through a new song, trying different lines and tunes over and over in different ways. The familiar sound is pleasant, it helps him focus on his movements as he demonstrates his footwork for Ciri as he spars with the two witchers and Lambert says something, too low for Ciri to hear, but Geralt can hear him just fine, about shutting the bard up for a little bit , something about using that pretty mouth for other things

and eskel, fucking eskel, makes that low appreciative ’mhmm’ noise and geralt goes fucking feral, suddenly it’s not training, that ugly feeling is back, the one that makes him want to break things and he’s got a sword in his hand, adrenaline high. He nearly slices lambert open before Vesemir‘s grabbing him and shoving him and shouting at him to take a fucking walk

meanwhile ciri is just standing there with the dummy and her wooden sword, eyes wide, grip slack. Jaskier‘s playing has stopped, the bard is looking at him with his blue eyes wide with shock and concern, Lambert’s yelling, asking him what his problem is and Eskel is just staring at him, with that knowing look, and it’s too much.

He storms off. Jaskier, inevitably, follows and Geralt ,inevitably, says some terrible things,

but unlike with the dragon and Yen, there isn’t a monologue about how much he hates Jaskier. Geralt is very aware that he very much doesn’t hate the bard, but there are feelings clawing at his chest and lodged in his throat that he doesn’t know what to do with. Doesn’t know who they’re directed at or why, just that it settles at the sound of Jaskier’s voice and he’s a little more focused

Jaskier however is a man on a mission and he intends to get to the bottom of all this emotional constipation and get the brute to express his feelings. He pokes and prods and pulls at Geralt until the poor Witcher is a stammering and confused ball of frustration and anger and poorly phrased feelings.

“Are you angry?”

“Yes! …No… I don’t know.”

“Well you’re clearly worked up about something, you nearly tore Lambert’s head off. So what is it?”

At the mention of Lambert that blind, directionless Something flares again, Geralt sneers, “You worried I bruised your toys?”

“My toys?”

“Don’t worry, little bird, Witcher’s heal quickly. He’ll be back in working order for you by tonight.”

“Working order? Geralt, what are you talking about?”

There’s some implied slut shaming (Jaskier: Excuse me, I do NOT fuck every man and woman I see! Geralt: Not for lack of trying! Jaskier: SOO?!WHY DO YOU CARE WHERE I STICK MY DICK? Geralt: CAUSE IT ALWAYS ENDS UP WITH ME HAVING TO CLEAN UP YOUR MESS!), Geralt expresses an acute frustration with the cut of Jaskier’s shirt collars, and implied regret of ever bringing Jaskier to Kaer Morhen,

“Well then why did you bring me here in the first place if you hate me and my slutty slutty shirts that damn much!?”

“I don’t hate you Jaskier, I brought you because I-“

And the truth hits him a split second before he can stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. Geralt nearly chokes on his spit he stops talking so fast. His face goes red and,,,

Oh no

no that wont do at all.

Without a word he turns on his heel and flees,

He spends the rest of the day out in the valley with Roach trying to get himself under control.

When he comes back it’s to Vesemir standing arms cross in front of the entrance to the keep. He warns him, the whole of Kaer Morhen, and the Rock trolls that live in the caves below, heard his argument with the bard. They all agree, Geralt is being, as Lambert put it, ‘a big warty Cyclops dick’ and he needs to ’unclench and get his colossal bag of issues under control before he fucking kills one of us’. Also Lambert‘s words.

Geralt doesn’t say anything. Vesemir just sighs “You better prepare one hell of an apology, Wolf.” and leads him inside.

Everyone is settling in for dinner. It was Lambert’s turn to cook so the entire keep smells like garlic and spices (every Witcher has a hobby, something to occupy them in between monster hunts. Geralt likes card games, Vesemir likes to collect rare coins, Eskel likes to knit, and Lambert likes to cook).

They all look up when he comes in. Eskel is quiet, he has that knowing look in his eye. Lambert glares, “Welcome back, sour puss, your little tantrum ruin your appetite?”

Geralt has his customary ‘eat my ass Lambert’ on the tip of his tongue, but he pauses, looks at Ciri who looks at him reproachfully from Jaskier’s other side. Jaskier looks up at him with those blue eyes and Geralt feels something settle in his gut.

He knows he’ll be forgiven, but he cannot take that for granted. Vesemir is right. He better give the bard one hell of an apology. And then never fucking do that shit again.

He looks back at Lambert.

“Smells good.” and he takes the empty seat on Jaskier’s left.

It’s as close to an apology that Geralt and Lambert will ever get between them, and the other Witcher wont admit it, but the compliments on his food make him feel all tingly inside.

Later, when Jaskier, Ciri, and Vesemir are all asleep, the boys break out the Mahakaman Spirit and drink it straight from the bottle. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

“You know.” It’s not a question.

Eskel shrugs and takes another drink, “Didn’t before today. Don’t think you did either. I’ll admit I had my suspicions, you guys act like an old married couple, but he seemed pretty convinced you didn’t have feelings for him. If I’d known before I wouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

Lambert snorts, he’s starting to slur his words. “I not. Get your shit together Geralt, cause if you don’t fuck him I will… again.”

Eskel nods with more enthusiasm than is really necessary considering the circumstances and Geralt doesn’t slam his head down on the table but it’s a near thing. Instead he just sighs and pours himself another drink.

Geralt get’s his shit together. Not that night,, but eventually.

That night, bolstered by a few more bottles and Eskel and Lambert’s encouragement, Geralt makes it all the way to Jaskier’s door before loosing his nerve and realizing that maybe stumbling drunk and dumb into the bard’s bed chambers in the middle of the night isn’t the best way to start an apology.

So he just goes to bed.

He asks Ciri the next day, or more Ciri volunteers her opinion. They’re in the library, pouring over books pulled for them by Vesemir (the old Witcher took one look at Geralt and the others battling their hang overs at the kitchen table and declared today an exercise in theory), detailing the different subspecies of Drowners when she brings it up.

“So, have you apologized to Jaskier yet?” She catches him by surprise in the middle of an explanation about the effectiveness of the Axii and Igni signs when fighting Drowners. He pauses.

“Not yet. He always sleeps past breakfast.”

“Are you going to?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“I don’t know... Why are you so interested?”

“I don’t like it when you two fight. It doesn’t happen a lot,, but when it does Jaskier only sings sad songs and it makes everyone else sad.” A pause, “Plus, I have nothing better to do, nothing interesting ever happens around here.”

Geralt laughs at that, “Witcher training that boring to you?”

She gives the comically large book in front of her a pointed look ,”Yes.”

After a few more questions and answers and rapid fire quizzes on the differences between mucknixers and drowned dead, Ciri speaks up again,

“Take him on a picnic, bards love picnics.”

She says it with the kind of finality that only children can muster that Geralt can only nod and they start planning.

Geralt apologizes before dinner, pulls Jaskier aside and asks for his forgiveness. “You already had it Geralt, you knew that.” And he takes Jaskier out to finish dinner atop one of the high towers in the keep with a bottle of erveluce under his arm. He and Ciri had cut their studying short and spent the afternoon dodging Vesemir to set up the picnic before hand. In retrospect it was a very good exercise in stealth and evasion.

There are candles and an old tapestry they found draped across the stones. It’s disgustingly romantic. Jaskier calls him on it. Geralt is embarrassed, but he stammers out his apology and his confession without too much interruption.

“I’m sorry I called your shirt slutty… I don’t think it’s slutty… it’s a nice shirt.”

“Thank you , Geralt. I appreciate how hard that must have been for-”

“And I don’t hate you… I brought you to Kaer Morhen because…. Because… you were the first person I thought of when… I wanted you here… with me… I.. love you, Jaskier. Been shit at showing it but I do, have for a long time, and I… don’t… want you … sleeping with anyone else anymore. Just… just me.”

And then Jaskier jumps his bones. The end.

Lambert is only a little jealous.

#witcher #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #jaskier/eskel #jaskier/lambert #jaskier/vesemir #the witcher #give that bitch a picnic #bitches love picnics

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dragonagecompanions · 4 years

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hi there, so in love with your works. Seriously *bows head* thank you all so much. If its not too bad, I wanted to know how everyone in DAI from the advisors to the companions would react to a teen inquisitor who is brilliant at cooking? Yet the inquisitor has no idea about people from Leliana's agents to everyone else pinching her food.

Cassandra: She thinks she is being sneaky and subtle, insisting that because of their age and responsibility it is better for their young herald to stay close to camp and not take a watch when they leave Skyhold. There will be time for that when they are older, and bearless of a burden. If they will take on the difficulty of closing the rifts, then the most they should have to do is help around the camp, and after a long day nothing is appreciated more than hot food.

No one contradicts her, and the Seeker is left to silently congratulate herself on enjoying the absolutely divine way that their young leader has with rabbit and Hinterland herbs without making the Inquisitor feel worthless.

(And if everyone else lets her take a lead on that because she has mattered the speech, well...it’s really good stew.)

Varric: Damn, this is the stuff. Its like being back in the Hanged Man, except the bread is trying to actively strange him, and the pies aren’t staring back and..

It’s nothing like the Hanged Man, really, but the sheer comfort of phenomenal food at the end of the world? The same kind of warmth as sitting with your friends as the city goes to shit and laughing at a joke no one else gets. Their young protagonist has a good skill set on their hands, and If Varric’s writing table moves a little closer to the door into the kitchens, well.

Keeps the ink from freezing.

Solas: It had been a passing comment about the frilly cakes in Val Royeaux, some exchange of banter with Varric about time passing and philosophy and the unending banal that one takes on to keep the miles from turning monotonous. He’d had no idea the Herald was listening, and so it makes it all the more touching when- after waqving to them as they take on the climb to the library- he comes down from his painter’s perch to find three petit fours waiting for him on his table.

It drives home that they are a thoughtful young person, so different from the rest of this world, and if he uses the sweetness of the frosting and cake to drive away the twinge of guilt that his plans still move at speed....it does not take away from their talent, or their kindness. He will be content with that.

Blackwall: Food is food, particularly on the road. Hard tack and sausage has kept many a soldier alive, and he is the last person you’d hear complaining that he can’t put his pinky out eating meat from a spit. Luxury is for soft handed nobles, not men and women striving to make the world better. Let them have the best cuts-- Blackwall would starve before he robs true heroes of a hot meal.

And yet the first time he comes back from gathering firewood to find that the reason the inquisitor was tying so much string around the side of a wild hog was to make a porketta, and he got a good whiff of roasted pork slowly spinning in it’s own drippings....It would be a harder sacrifice. It made the Inquisitor so happy to watch their work be enjoyed and help people though, that it would the crueler not to take some.

And if he dreams about the tender meat and crispy skin all perfectly seasoned and roasted for days afterwords, that’s no one’s business of his own.

Vivienne: She cuts an imposing figure, and for the Madame de Fer is quite proud. It has cowed more than one recalcitrant novice into place with only a long legged stride alone, and for that she is a legend in her circle. Of course the stories do not tell how she would never be cruel or unfeeling to a child, and particularly not one far from home and frightened of every shadow like the ones that the Templars rip from families and depost in a new and strange place.

She expects a similar attitude from the young Herald, particularly after her (rahter stunning) entrance on their first meeting. And perhaps they were a bit overawed, but before it could become something she needs to address Lady Vivienne is pleasantly surprised to find their young leader coming to her for advice from a letter from some minor Orlesian lord. And while surely it will be up to Josephine to craft the response Vivienne is delighted that the Inquisitor wants her input.

That they went to the effort to bring beignet’s with them as a bribe...For that, she will give them every secret of the author’s well kept family scandals.

Sera: Their Bitty Herald can make cookies better than Sera can make cookies, but they aren’t the kind that you throw at people as a prank or that come out all rock hard and brown and blegh. They are the soft gooey kind that make you want to steal the whole plate and eat them on your roof but also throw the plate at their Quizznitor because....because cookies!

She will trade pranks for cookies, who ever her Jenny in training wants to see doused in water or flour or...or...pudding! Pudding for cookies is the most fair.

Dorian: Southern food is bland and tasteless, and Skyhold’s resident ‘Vint will endure it for as long as he must to help defeat this ancient magister and get things on the right track. And the beer isn’t the worst, much to his own dismay as his delicate palette accepts the swill. But the food is all friend or brown or smothered in gravy, and he’d just as soon not.

So when they finally stop for the night under the endless web of branches that keep the sky from meeting the Fallow Mire, the pond water full of dead people sounds more appealing than one more night of Varric’s nug stew. Which makes the fact their valiant young Herald just ladled him a bowl of Minestrone so much more impressive. Their shrugged explanation of ‘I’ve always wanted to make it and the merchants had actual artichokes on the way here and you can tell me if I got it right’ does nothing to take away the warmth and delight the gesture brings to him.

It would be like coming home, if anyone had ever made sucha rustic and delightful soup for him without strings and hooks attached in Tevinter, and for the first time on the whole mission Dorian isn’t chilled the rest of the night.

The Iron Bull: He isn’t sure which one of the Chargers talks to the Herald (lies, it was Krem), but one night half the fortress is piled into the Rest and the Inquisitor is waiting with four bowls of unreadable origin. The explanation that these are four kinds of curry and each is hotter than the last is the best gift he’s ever gotten, but the wager of a single coin (he won’t steal more than that from the kid) that the Iron Bull can’t finish them for the spice is even better.

Three hours later finds him chewing on one of Stitche’s poultices for a burnt tongue (and throat and stomach and probably ass in a few hours) but one coin richer and hoarse voiced from the roaring laughter he’d gotten after a straight face convinced Krem to try the last bown and he’d literally wept.

Good times.

Cole: The nug is made of bread, and it isn’t a nug but it looks like one. And it’s wearing a tiny hat! ‘Roll the dough out, has to be thin so it rises to keep the shape, he likes nugs so much and doesn’t ask for anything and Sera bet me I couldn’t.’ You made it for me. Thank you! He says hello back!

Josephine: When their ambassador hears that not only does the Herald have an aunt who married into a merchant house in Antiva but the inquisitor spent a summer there and learned to make authentic Paella, Lady Montiliyet’s mind is a whirlwind of plans and thoughts of just the appropriate bribe that would spare her from getting down on her knees and begging a fifteen year old to make her favorite dish. Eventually Leliana gets tired of little doodles of steaming bowls on all their meeting notes and sends a raven three windows over, Josie, really with an ‘anonymous’ request to make it and leave it in the war room in exchange for a trade of equal value.

And when Josephine finds out that all the Inquisitor wants is the creepy love letters from young Orlesian nobles to go away, she takes great delight in her strongly worded letters to their mothers in between heaping mouthfuils of white wine rice and shrimp and the warm bite of saffron that will always be home.

Leliana: It is written on no report or schedule, and her agents will go to the grave without speaking of it to another soul, but the Inquisition’s spymaster has a man in the kitchens whose only role is to fetch firewood and water and try to one day recover his shattered after a terrible mission in her service. It’s easy work for a man who gave so much, and somewhere he is able to do good work until the tremors and the nightmares stop. The kitchen staff is kind to him and treat him well, but his true mission is known only to himself and his mistress.

The second the herald starts making Cassoulet he is to fetch her immediately. She won’t be caught in a meeting and miss her favorite food again, damn it.

Cullen: It’s hard for the Inquisitor’s commander to be at ease with someone who is both a child and at least nominally his leader. They are someone he wants to protect, but also the key to stopping the world and someone who must be on the front lines. That is gift alone to the world, but when the rumors begin to swirl that they will also go out of their way to make things that people like it brings a small smile to his face. The world would be better if had more people like the herald in it.

Especially if they could all make little crocks of shepards pie like the one that sits on his desk after a day of long meetings and a lyrium migraine. That might make everything right again.

-- Mod Fereldone

#dragon age inquisitions #Cassandra Pentaghast #Solas #Varric Tethras #sera #dorian pavus #the iron bull #cole #blackwall #josephine montilyet #Leliana #cullen rutherford #vivienne de fer #reactions #teen inquisitor

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northcarolinanative · 4 years

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𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞 - Pope Heyward

Description: After John B and Sarah are gone and Ward was able to get the gold off the Island Pope feels the most defeated he ever has. He’s losing control of his friendships, his family, and his life. He slips into the unhealthy habits of his best friend, JJ. Y/N doesn’t like the person he has become, but what can she even say to start to make it better. TW// Drug use

A/N: I had this idea out of nowhere when rewatching Outer banks recently. Pope is so complex to me and I had a hard time trying to encompass him in this, so any feedback that you have would be so so appreciated. I promise I am working on collision and request this is just a lil break because all my requests are JJ (not that I am complaining haha). As always my Requests/asks/messages are open :)

It had been a few solemn days since Ward Cameron had flown off with the gold and John B and Sarah’s disappearance. The two young teenager’s fates hung like an unsolved mystery heavy over the rest of the pogues. The conspiracies that each person had come up with circled everyone’s thoughts anytime a silence fell over the group. The group felt utterly defeated at the loss of their friend, their brother. They lost the gold to the same man that sealed the fate of John B, angering them even more.

“I don’t even understand why Ward needed that gold so bad!” JJ said kicking the logs in the fire. The logs fell creating a flash of flames. The group flinched slightly at the sudden heat, causing JJ to step back, falling into his respective camping chair. “He’s already rich as fuck anyway.” He scoffed. He pulled a joint from his pockets placing it between his fingers and lighting it. We were used to JJ getting high to deal with the thoughts that overtook his brain. JJ wasn’t JJ without ‘taking the edge off.’

What did surprise me was how Pope leaned forward, skillfully taking the lit joint from JJ’s hand. He leaned back in his chair, bringing it to his lips. He took a visibly large hit, only letting out a few shallow coughs. He closed his eyes letting the feeling wash over him. JJ reached to take it back from him, only for Pope to pull it away from him. Kie and I shared a worried glance with one another before looking back at the two boys on the other side of the fire.

“He’s just a greedy Kook. Rich people get richer, and we don’t. We aren’t the Camerons, we don’t get second chances. Ward robbed us of our one chance to make it rich.” Pope spoke, his voice coming out slow and his drawl becoming more prominent. He was on his fourth hit from JJ’s blunt, no longer flinching when he took a long drag. He finally offered the blunt back to JJ, who practically snatched it from his hand.

“I was trying to get you to relax bro, not hog my shit,” JJ mumbled. Pope just responded with a groan. I kept my eyes trained on the boy in front of me. He had been worrying me lately. He had to have a lot of emotions building up inside of him. He had expressed to us many times that growing up, he never really learned the proper way to deal with emotions. We all knew Heyward expected nothing but the best for Pope, pushing him to be the best version of himself that he could be. Somewhere along the way, I think Pope worked so hard that he lost part of who he was to his studies. All he wanted to do was making his parents proud. I think that is why the treasure hunt was so important for him. It was developmental for all of us, but it allowed Pope to have fun and open up to experiences outside of the textbook, to live the rebellious teenage life.

We were all quick to tell him to come with us, to stop worrying about the essay, the interview, or his dad. None of us thought about how that would affect him. He walked out of his scholarship interview, giving up his one-way ticket to a better life, just to help us. That is the kind of friend that Pope is. Since then it had been tearing the boy apart. He didn’t say much, but whenever Heyward had us packing orders at the shop I could hear the sly remarks made about how Pope had the opportunity for a better life, or how Heyward was angry that Pope let something so good slip from his fingers.

My heart hurt for the boy sitting in front of me. If that wasn’t enough he had to sit with the girl that he confessed his feelings to, only to have her push him away. Kie told me about the interaction almost as soon as it happened. Every time I would catch his eyes wandering to stop on her face, or he would follow in behind her, my stomach would drop. I would do anything for Pope, he knows that. After Kiara told me about their conversation at Tannyhill, I decided that I was going to push my feelings for Pope down to the pits of my brain and forget them, even though that hadn’t been happening lately.

I definitely did not have the best coping mechanisms for this, but JJ was always down to flirt with anyone. I started responding to JJ’s empty flirtatious remarks more often. They almost always caused the two of us and Kie to laugh, but Pope was always seemingly in another world. He was always one to have a witty one-liner or the perfect roast to knock JJ down a few pegs, but he was quiet now. His sense of humor fleeting the group.

“That’s…” Kie started, looking between the group, trying to see a reaction from Pope’s train of thought. “Dark.” she breathed.

Pope scoffed before promptly getting up from his spot by the fire and quickly walking toward the water’s edge. I looked at Kiara and JJ with a confused expression. She nodded her head in his direction signaling that I should follow. I knew that things between the two of them were tense, but every time Pope had gotten upset over the past few weeks my heart broke further and further. He was turning into a shell of himself from the overwhelming amount of rejection that he was feeling.

I found him, leaning against a tree at the edge of the woods, his head hung low, looking at the sharp rocks that formed the jetty. The closer I got the louder the water crashing to the rocks became, helping to drown out some of the loudest thoughts in my head. I approached the tall boy, bringing my hand up to his shoulder, beginning to rub it in a comforting manner.

He pulled his shoulder away from me with a shrug. He shook his head slightly, before looking away from me. It hurt like hell seeing him have this reaction to me simply trying to be there for him. I felt the tears prick my eyes, the events of the past few weeks coming back to fruition as I watched the broken boy in front of me. The moonlight was bouncing off his skin making him glow in the darkness of the moment.

I decided that being by the water was the only way that I would feel calm at this moment. Saltwater ran in all of our veins, the closer we were in proximity to the ocean making us feel more at home. I stepped out and onto the jetty. Looking back at Pope, trying to elicit anything that I could out of him. I held my hand out to him, urging him to follow me to the waves. As his hand slipped into mine, I pulled him further and further from the edge of the island. I felt a glimmer of hope in the way that he gripped my hand and the soft smile that graced his face as we clumsily made our way over the jagged, mismatched rocks.

We finally got the edge, finding a larger rock, suitable for the two of us to sit on. We sat on the rock, our arms and legs brushing against each other due to the limited space. Pope’s eyes were once again were trained on the water that flowed against the rocks underneath us. The silence was heavy for a while.

Pope finally starting to speak. “I’m sorry that I went off like that.” He sighed, leaning back onto his arms letting his head roll back with his eyes closed.

I didn’t respond immediately. I was distracted by the way that his demeanor had changed the anger that had held onto him moments ago was now replaced with sadness. The way that the solemn look on his face made me want nothing more than to melt into him. “You have every right to be upset, Pope,” I said reaching for his hand again. He let me pull it into my lap, holding it between the two of mine, my thumbs rubbing comforting lines, back and forth.

“It’s just so much. I don’t know how much I can handle. I am never enough.” He said. I felt his hand tense up as he lifted himself to sit up straight. “I have literally disappointed my father so much, he won’t even look me in the eye anymore Y/N. I gave up my one good shot to get outta here, at a better life, to help some damn treasure hunt!” He said the urgency in his voice. I was at a loss for words, not knowing what to say to help him feel better. “I gave up everything and it still wasn’t enough for the others. They want me to help them with research and give up my time, that I need to earn back my father’s respect, to go on another goose chase.” He said scoffing.

“Hey,” I said forcing him to look at me. “They,” I said nodding my head back toward the other two. “May not get it, but I do. I realize that you gave up everything for your idiot friends. Me included.” I said, finally getting him to crack a slight smile. “And for what it’s worth, I appreciate every single sacrifice that you made through the entire treasure hunt, and I’m sure that if John B was here, he would too,” I said nudging his shoulder.

He let out a slight laugh at the mention of John B. It was always a toss-up to see how we all would react to the mention of him and Sarah, sometimes it was a reminiscent chuckle, sometimes it was a few straggling tears. “Don’t sell yourself short. We would have never found that well without both our brains.” He said nudging my shoulder back. I was happy to see a little more of the Pope that I know, the Pope that I loved, peeking through all the emotions again.

I laughed with him shortly before continuing. “As for your dad, he wants what’s best for you and I don’t think he knows exactly how to show his love for you, so he does it through pushing you to be better because he wished he had someone like that,” I spoke, recounting the time Heyward has told us about his family. I spoke softly trying not to overstep my boundaries.

Pope nodded his head in response, taking in what I had just told him. “I’m glad that they always send you after me.”

I snapped my head to look at him, my eyebrows knitting together in confusion. I met his deep brown eyes, filled with every emotion that he was feeling. Reading over my expression he became nervous about his statement. “I mean after everything with Kie, I just figured that they sent you.” He spoke in a low, uncertain voice, shrugging his shoulder, suddenly insecure in the moment.

“No, I always come because I want to. Last time you stormed off, I practically pushed JJ off the dock to get to you.” I said giggling at the memory of the overdramatic boy we were speaking of. It was Pope’s turn to return my statement with knitted eyebrows, as his eyes searched my face for the meaning of my words.

“After Kie…” He said, his voice shaky and low. No one really talked about Pope confessing his feelings for Kiara, we all pretended like it was a fever dream and did not happen. I heard him swallow before continuing,” rejected me.” He said with a sigh. “She said that she wanted something different?” He said, his word coated with confusion themselves. “I just felt like no one really wanted me around, or wanted who I was.” Silence fell over us as I gripped his hands tighter involuntarily, hanging onto every word that left his mouth. Every word he spoke about Kie tearing at my heart. “I don’t love her like that though, I don’t know why I did it.” My heart wanted to shatter for him, but I settled for picking up the pieces to hand to him to put back together. He spoke, regret now evident in his voice. “I don’t why I am doing any of this. I’m getting drunk and high, picking fights, like I’m JJ,” He sighed.

“I know we always said we wanted you to loosen up, this isn’t what I want” I laughed awkwardly trying to joke about the topic, but I meant every word that I said. “I want the old Pope back.” I felt him tense at my words.

Pope stood up, taking his hand out of mine and wiping the dirt off the back of his pants. “I don’t! It’s like my life went downhill after that interview and no one gives a shit! The old Pope was walked over by all these people and I am sick of it!” Pope said, his voice rising as the distress became evident. He started stepping over rocks to move back to the forest.

I quickly stood up, briefly contemplating the words that were about to come out of my mouth., I quickly swallowed my pride, not caring about the outcome. My heart was beating in my throat, making sure that the words had to claw their way out. “I care Pope! I have always cared! Probably more than just your best friend should!” I said. The tears started to prick at the corners of my eyes as the words left my mouth.

Pope stopped in his tracks, turning to face me, his eyes wide as he processed the words that I said. I grew bold in my actions, deciding that if I was going to put it out there that I had to put it all out there. “I’ve always been here Pope, I wished I could have made you seen it sooner before you fell for Kie, but for me,” I stopped closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, “It’s always been you. You’re little witty comments never fail to brighten my day, or how you effortlessly help me to do better at anything, even the way that we used to sit on John B’s dock in the middle of the night and have those deep ass conversations.” I said, feeling out of breath. “You’re it for me.” I managed to get out as my voice finally broke. I opened my eyes to see Pope, walking back towards me, His steps careful and calculated as he crossed the distance that had been created between us.

“You like me?” Pope stuttered out. His face was one of complete and utter shock.

I shook my head and scoffed. “You don’t have to act so surprisedly.” The tears were falling freely down my face, as I tried to look anywhere but the curious eyes if the boy in front of me. I moved my hand to try and wipe away the tears that were falling down my face, embarrassed of how emotional I had become.

I was stopped by Pope’s hand moving at the same time to cup the side of my face forcing me to look up at him. I felt my face contort to show the pain that I was feeling. His eyes flickered between the two of mine. I couldn’t help but melt into the touch of his hand, trying to savor the way that it felt to be in his grasp.

It took me a minute to comprehend what was happening, but the Pope’s lips were on mine. I felt myself sway backward from the feeling. Pope wrapped his arm around my back to keep me upright as I kissed him back at a feverish pace. I settled my arms on either side of his neck, holding the back of his head in one hand. I wanted to pull him impossibly close. The world around us felt like it was spinning into nothing until it was just the two of us in the middle. I could feel the emotions of the night being poured into the kiss, the anger, the regret, but most importantly the passion.

We finally had to pull away from one another in a need for air, but we stayed entangled together on the teetering top of a jetty rock. Pope leaned down once again resting his forehead against mine. The eye contact was so intimate that I felt like I could hear his thoughts.

“Just so we’re clear. I meant it when I said I know that I am not in love with Kiara. I just thought that after all this time you would never see me the way I saw you, so I tried to move on. It really blew up in my face though.” He said, a small chuckle leaving his lips. He placed a soft kiss on the top of my head. “You’re it for me too.”

My Masterlist:)

Tagging those who asked :) -- @kikifromtheblock @bedazzledbanks @alexa-playafricabytoto @poguelifesurfshop

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retroateez · 3 years

Text

Prophecy - Chapter Seventeen

length: 3k

tag list: @hewwo-from-the-other-side

prophecy masterlist

Strolling arm in arm with Seonghwa, the kingsguard of Ateez's powerful monarch, was not a situation you had ever expected to be in, not in a million years.

But yet, here you were, clutching onto the tall, handsome man as he led you through hallways and down great wooden staircases. Really, you didn't know what you were more nervous about, being in the spotlight in front of hundreds of people, or seeing Wooyoung dressed like this.

Your gown, an exquisitely made garment just for you, fits your form beautifully. The skirt sways gently with every step you take and every so often, you swear you catch the stitched butterflies fluttering with ease.

"Yeosang enchanted the butterflies," Seonghwa explains quietly. "They gave me quite the fright too when I saw them moving."

You smile, thinking of Yeosang whispering softly to the fabric and watching as the rose pink butterflies come to life.

Before long, you're both stood in front of the great oak doors that lead into the main hall. Seonghwa adjusts his position, putting his heels together and straightening his back. You can tell he's done this countless times before; he knows exactly how to carry himself and you would expect absolutely nothing less from the man who exudes regality.

"I don't know if I can do this, Seonghwa." You exhale sharply, tightening your grip on the kingsguard's arm.

"Of course you can!" He gives you a small, reassuring smile. "All you have to do is walk, and sit. When Wooyoung comes to you and offers to dance, you accept, and then you dance."

"I'm- I'm not cut out for fancy stuff like this." You say, looking up at him with sad eyes. "I'm just a nasty little street thief."

Seonghwa scoffs.

"You think a street rat would ever wear something as beautiful as this? Nonsense! The past is the past, Iris. You're one of us now."

Something about Seonghwa's words calms you, the thought of being accepted by (almost) everybody in the castle warming you to the heart. In a sense too, he's right. The shades of your old life had been completely cast out, starting with Yeosang giving you a proper home, and Hongjoong giving you a job of sorts.

Really, you had it all.

But the insatiable hunger for more still burned within you, and no matter how hard you tried to push it to the back of your mind, it would come back ten times louder.

Seonghwa reaches out and knocks firmly on the door, and immeditately, both of them are pulled open.

You stand there, mouth agape, taking in the scenery before you.

The great hall has been completely transformed, from an empty, lonely space to a bustling center of hospitality and entertainment.

On the far left, where Hongjoong's brilliant throne is, sits a long table, with space for nine people. In the center, is a smaller, but no less impressive version of the throne, where you assume the king himself will be sitting.

Off to the side of that, is a rectangular platform, upon which is Mingi, expertly playing his lute whilst accompanied by three other men playing various instruments you couldn't name. The rest of the hall is full of grand oak tables, each one lined with people chattering and singing along loudly with Mingi's song. Every table is graced with an abundance of hot food and goblets of ale. Whole roasted pheasants, hogs, mountains of golden roasted potatoes and boiled carrots covered every single surface and filled the air with a delicious aroma.

You spot Yeosang and Wooyoung occupying two chairs on the top table, conversing with each other, probably about the prophecy. You also spy San admist the guests, who laugh heartily as he speaks to them. Perhaps a jester is more than jokes after all.

At the end of the table is a sturdy young man with chesnut brown hair, who looks incredibly familiar to you, but you know you've never met him. Next to him is Yunho, who you grin at, happy to see a familiar face. He doesn't reciprocate your smile, instead giving you a small wave. You pray that he hasn't noticed the stolen textbook.

Seonghwa keeps you closely by your side as you glide into the hall and the silence in the room becomes abundantly clear.

Everybody is watching you.

All the guests take their seats and they sit like obedient children, observing as the stoic, cold-faced kingsguard accompanies you to your seat at the head table.

For some of them, this is a completely new experience; to see Seonghwa leading a beautiful woman to the most importaant table in the room. But for the older attendees, it is a sight they haven't seen since the passing of the Queen.

It's only when you're sat, Hongjoong's empty seat to your right and a giddy Yeosang to your left, that you realise you were holding your breath the entire time. Seonghwa tucks your chair in gently, and takes his own place on the other side of Hongjoong's vacant space, with Wooyoung faintly blushing to his right. The noise in the hall picks back up again, allowing you to quietly converse with your mentor.

"You look positively beautiful, my little student." Yeosang beams at you, and you shyly smile at him.

"You look rather dashing yourself, Yeosang." There's no lie; his brilliantly blonde hair is styled (for once) so it trails ever so slightly down the back of his neck, his outfit makes a start contrast to his usual attire, although he has opted to keep his signature white shirt, but over the top is fitted, beige jacket with embellishments of gold down the line of buttons, and leading down to his wrists.

"Do you like the butterflies?" He asks, a glint of pride behind the eyes. "I thought you would like them."

"Yes, Yeosang." You nod. "They're very pretty."

Suddenly, a hush falls over the room once more, and you guess that can only signify the arrival of a certain person.

The same doors you entered though swing open again, and Hongjoong himself confidently strolls in. He's wearing the tawny brown fur coat you saw before, fancy black trousers with gold patterning up the outside seams of the legs. His boots are ordinary, but they shine brilliantly, almost putting the jewels on his crown to shame.

It dawns on you then that you have actually never seen the king wear his crown, and you're astonished at how stunning it is. At the center is a huge blue gem, identical to the one sitting in the middle of the silver circlet on your own head. Each peak of the crown is embellished with glittering green sapphires, and between the tufts of his fluffy, mousy hair you can spot the sparkling rubies and garnets fitted around the base of the crown.

Hongjoong paces slowly, aware but unaffected by all eyes watching him in awe. He gets to the table, and stands on the other side of where you are seated, and he turns to face the crowded hall.

"Welcome!" he cries, motioning out in front of him. "Esteemed guests and distinguished friends, welcome to the annual Ateez ball."

The guests clap and cheer at their welcoming, Hongjoong patiently smiling as he waits for them to shut up. Sometimes he really hates his obligation to these dreaded social functions.

"It is with great sadness that the kingdom of Seventeen is not able to attend tonight," He says. "Commander Jeonghan sends his regards to all of you."

Hongjoong claps his hands together, the sound echoing throughout the hall and ringing in your ears.

"Nevertheless! Let us enjoy a night of feasting and festivities! Please, thoroughly enjoy yourselves." He finishes with a deep, sweeping bow, upon which the attendees go wild once more, taking up their goblets and gulping their mead down hungrily.

Hongjoong moves around the table, and takes his seat beside you with an exhausted sigh. All chairs, except for two which belong to Mingi and San who are busy entertaining the guests, are now occupied, and you can't help but wonder who the brown haired man next to Yunho is.

"Hongjoong?" You turn to your right and timidly ask the king your question.

"Jongho?" He questions. "He's the tailor who made your dress. He's a quiet lad, from somewhere up north I believe, but he's damn good at what he does."

Jongho's face perks up over hearing his name and he whips around to face you. Hongjoong signals for him to come over, and he does.

"Jongho! This is Iris, Iris, this is Jongho." The king introduces you, and you can't help but blush at the handsome smile the young man gives you.

"Pleasure to meet cha," He says. "You look even more beautiful in that dress that I ever could'a imagined. Hope yah like it?" You notice the difference in his accent, figuring that must be how they talk up in the north.

"It's gorgeous. Thank you."

"Oh hey, you're that kid from the inn!" Yeosang's voice behind you makes you jump, and you slowly realise that Yeosang is in fact correct.

"The inn with the bear!" You gasp. "Do you know if the bear is okay?"

Jongho chuckles. "The bear is fine. I actually recognise you two from the inn also, fancy meeting here, eh?"

You laugh along with him, one of the many worries settled in your mind as you finally learn about the bear that's been plagueing your dreams for so long.

"Well, I'm glad we are all well aquainted." Hongjoong smiles sarcastically, and Jongho takes that as his notice to return to his seat, bowing politely to you before he does so.

"So when do we start dancing and stuff?" You ask Hongjoong, your eyes following Seonghwa as he hurriedly gets up and scurries out of the hall. Your gaze falls back to the king as he shrugs.

"Probably within an hour or so," he answers. "Only people of high status are allowed to dance, so lords, ladies, princes and princesses from other kingdoms will take the center."

You nod, gulping nervously.

"I hope you've been practicing." Hongjoong says. "You'd better not embarrass me in front of my guests."

"What?" you yelp. "Why don't you go out there and dance if you're so bothered?"

"Because I'm the king." he smirks. "I don't have to do anything I don't want to, and I can make anyone do anything I want."

"You're evil." you snarl at him.

"You love me really." he grins. "Besides, I'm being awfully nice to you, am I not? Letting you live in my castle, giving you lavish clothes, allowing you to do whatever you please?"

"But why? All I do is cause trouble and get in the way."

Hongjoong stays silent for a moment, mulling over his answer before turning to face you once again.

"Truthfully, you remind me of my mother. She was very headstrong, very determined. She would never let my father order her around, not a day in her life would she obey the king's command." He stares into the joyful crowd, his eyes misting over ever so slightly as he remembers his late mother.

"I think she would have liked you very much." He continues. "She loved me dearly, but I think deep down she would have loved to have a daughter. My behaviour as of late, I know she would not have approved of it. My mother firmly believed I would be a good king, and so I strive everyday to make her proud. Your arrival reminded me of the promise I made to her before she passed."

"What promise was that?" You whisper.

"To treat everyone fairly, as she would have done. Regardless of age, race, or gender, my mother was a kindred spirit to every soul she met. Did you know that both Mingi and San were found abandoned outside the gates of the kingdom?"

You shake your head.

"My mother refused to have them sent to the orphanage, so she brought them here and they were raised alongside me."

"She sounds like an amazing woman, Hongjoong."

"She was." He smiles fondly. After a few moments, he shakes his head, rubbing his hands together. "My mother also loved to dance, and so with that, the ball shall properly commence!"

Hongjoong stands up, grabbing a glass goblet and a shiny silver spoon from the table and clinking them together to seize the attention of his guests. You watch as he commands the room like a true king, speaking confidently and without hesitation.

You look out at the sea of guests that hang onto his every word, and smile proudly.

Even if you haven't always seen eye to eye, he's a good man who just wants the best for his people, even you can recognise that.

Hongjoong raises his filled goblet towards the ceiling and grins cheerily at his spectators.

"To Ateez!" he toasts.

"To Ateez!" The crowd, including the table at which you are sat, mimic Hongjoong's cry and you sip eagerly at the alcohol in your cup.

When you place your goblet back on the table, you see Wooyoung stood in front of you, on the other side of the table.

You hadn't actually noticed just how handsome he was looking tonight, and now you had a perfect view.

He was wearing his signature, loose, white shirt, except the first two buttons were undone, giving everybody a direct peek at the top of his chest. He also wore a brilliant crimson waistcoat with bold, green plant stems stitched across the front. Beautiful emerald leaves accompanied the stems, with gorgeous, multicoloured flowers dotted here and there all over the front and back of the waistcoast. You even noticed dainty pink butterflies opening and closing their wings, sitting on the flowers of his outfit, butterflies that were completely identical to yours. Wooyoung's trousers were his usual black ones, but tighter than usual.

His jet black hair was soft and curly, parted in the middle and allowing him to stare at you fondly with his stunning amethyst eyes.

"Would you care to dance?" He asks politely, offering you his hand over the table.

Of course, you nod, and hurriedly rush past Yeosang and San who are sat at the table, to take Wooyoung's hand. He gently takes your hand in his, and raises your hand to his lips. He kisses the back of your hand delicately, and smiles at you with a sparkle in his eyes and a warmth in his heart.

"You look stunning tonight, Iris." He whispers to you, leading you towards the middle of the room where the other couples are preparing to dance.

"As do you, Wooyoung." You blush deeply.

The two of you are stood in the center of the hall, and it feels like you're the only two present. You place your arms around his neck, resting your hands on his broad shoulders, and try to contain the blushing when he puts his hands on your waist.

"Are you ready?" He teases. "Remember all your training?"

"Of course," You mumble back. "How could I possibly forget when I had such an amazingly gifted teacher?"

"Don't let San hear you say that," he murmurs against the shell of your ear. "Or else his ego will shoot through the roof."

The music starts up again as you giggle quietly. You feel Wooyoung's hands tighten slightly on your waist and the nerves slowly begin to creep in once again.

But then Wooyoung's fingers are on your chin, tilting your head up to face him.

"Hey." He whispers. "No nerves here. We've got this."

And you grin from ear to ear, because he's right.

You manage to keep yourself standing, Wooyoung assisting you most the time by leading you with gentle spins and careful twirls. The two of you join the rest of the crowd in a group dance in which you temporarily switch partners. To your delight, you ended up with Mingi, who despite the vast height difference, was very pleasant to dance with. At one point, Mingi even picked you up and spun you so fast you thought the room was spinning around you.

"That was so fun!" you exclaim to Wooyoung when you return to your original partners.

"I'm glad you thought so." He replies, a hint of playful bitterness laced in his voice. "I much prefer dancing with you than San, his shoulders are much too sharp."

You nod in agreement, laughing joyfully and grinning as Wooyoung matches your gleeful expression. The dancing continues for a short while longer, most of the dancers filing out to eat and drink as the music becomes calmer and slower. But you and the elf carry on as if you were the only two in the room, whispering to each other as you gracefully move across the floor.

Hongjoong watches the two of you from his seat at the main table. He's sitting alone, Yeosang, Yunho and Jongho having collected themselves at the table of King Chan and his guests, talking animatedly.

Hongjoong watches as you and Wooyoung dance, observing with an amused twist of his mouth as Wooyoung dips you down, holding your waist, and gently places his lips on yours.

Hongjoong can't help but admire the bravery displayed by the elf.

He watches you smile into the kiss, and notices how Wooyoung's grip on your waist tightens. The king might even go as far to say he's impressed.

With an exhale, Hongjoong's gaze moves from you to the others, to San cracking jokes, to Mingi expertly playing his lute, and to the other three who seem to be getting along well. He's glad he went through with the ball, the stress of the prophecy getting to him more than he would have liked.

The king sits silently, pondering over the last few months, when Seonghwa, visibly distressed comes hurrying over.

"Hongjoong," he rasps. "We've recieved a message from Seventeen. They've recieved word that there's magic in the kingdom and they're sending soldiers to attack-"

"Ah." Hongjoong nods. "That's why Commander Jeonghan didn't show up. I see."

The king stays silent for a few moments, Seonghwa staring him with panic written over his entire face.

"Well, there's no reason why we can't talk this out. Tell them to send their commander and we can assure them there is zero magic in Ateez."

"But-"

"But what, Seonghwa? There is zero magic in the kingdom. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir." The kingsguard nods hurriedly, and once again rushes out of the hall, no doubt to instruct the messengers.

Hongjoong sighs. He won't tell the others, not yet.

"Let them enjoy themselves." He mumbles to himself, watching Wooyoung twirl you around in his arms.

#wooyoung #san #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #mingi #jongho #yeosang #ateez au #medieval!ateez #ateez #ateez fic

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sweetrupturedlight · 4 years

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This week on Sen Çal Kapımı

We pick up exactly where we left off and there’s copious hand-holding, cuddles, kisses (see: cheek, lips and eskimo), giggles, a coffee date, breakfast date, dinner date, adorable banter, shameless flirting and no concept of personal space. Oh, and Serkan’s heart eyes continuously devour Eda with expert precision.

Before we jump right into it, let’s review last week’s bulleted list of things I expected was coming.

From the fragman, Serkan names a star or something after her #squee

Selin finally getting it

Aydan not getting it

Seyfi being over the moon - along with Melo no doubt

I’m 3.5/4. But come on, we know Melo loves her bro-in-law right?

Now, onto this week. Seeing Serkan clearly in love - and embracing it - is delightful to watch. The natural chemistry between Hande and Kerem have the room to shine brightly as the script allows them to dial the romance setting to ‘roast’. Serkan’s growth as a character is never more evident. The surly, stern taskmaster of old is replaced by a smiling (spontaneously), belly laughing, and downright playful young man in love. And its just squee inducing to watch. When he confesses to Eda that she is addictive, I thought his mood (and how Kerem plays Serkan) clearly demonstrates the effect that the emotion has on him - of being unable to focus, feeling light, happy, carefree and confident.

Throughout the romantic comedy, there is an underlying ripple of vulnerability. I love that the show doesn’t take for granted that Serkan has never been in love - and that being in love and confessing it - especially to a woman he didn’t believe could love him back - is also scary. Numerous times throughout the episode he asks for confirmation that she returns his affection. While its played as lighthearted banter - and provides ample opportunity for us to smile like idiots as they flirt outrageously - it’s also a reminder that he is a loner by nature and putting himself at the mercy of someone else cannot be easy. His concern that she will tire of him was adorable but also tinged with anxiety. She is a fairy to him - whimsical and carefree - and he must worry a little that someday, she will fly away without him. That said, he’s jumped all in. For a man who’s never really cared for romantic entanglements, he sure learns fast… as Eda says, he is a romantic robot, with a fierce beating heart.

Finally, I love that Eda’s education is important to her - but its also something Serkan recognises and supports. Their two-month deal is a postponement, not a cancellation of her plans. It’s not her putting him first and disadvantaging herself. Its an opportunity for them to get to know each other, spend time together, for him to wrap up pressing business matters and organise himself around a move to Italy to support the woman he loves as she pursues her interests and education. That’s fantastic! I love that its not an issue. He didn’t try and convince her to study in Turkey. Her dream is Italy. So he will rearrange his life in order to support her. That’s a partnership and I love to see it.

Things I loved about this episode:

All he handholding. Listen, I’m a simple shipper. Give me the basics, and I’m in hog heaven

The lack of personal space. They literally breathe the same air 99% of the time. It’s romantic, endearing and also more than a little blush-inducing??? Or is it just me? The breakfast scene was one of my favourites for this very reason.

Despite prompting Eda to confess her feelings, Serkan’s confessions kept escalating. He goes from I love you, to all I see is you, to I want to hug you, hold you, kiss you, I’m addicted to you, I can’t think/work with you around. Adorable.

Eda fixing Serkan’s collar. A small moment, but reminded me of her unbuttoning his shirt in the stairwell during the first episode. How far they’ve come.

The simplicity of framing them in each other’s arms on a couch was a fantastic way of showcasing their domesticity as well as highlighting their chemistry. I also loved Serkan in that brown shirt? It was a great wardrobe choice to highlight his downtime.

Things that confused me:

Ayfer’s continued “anti-Serkan” agenda. It remains puzzling. It’s completely incongruent with her previous assessment of him. So this plot point continues to feel a little shoehorned and forced in order to move us towards a storytelling arc.

Hiding their romance was fun this episode. But hopefully, everything is out in the open next week. They deserve a little normal after all the crazy of the weeks that came before. Sneaking around now just feels too over the top for a sustained plot point.

Alptekin and Aydan truly annoy me. Serkan’s father is apparently a man who built a successful company. Yet everything about him screams inept to me. Both his wife and son are unhappy with his conduct, his business decisions don’t seem very sound (at least from Serkan’s perspective) and the elephant in the room - his previous undesirable business practices. Aydan continues the “Choose Selin” crusade when doing that would hurt a myriad of people - including Ferit and Eda. It’s selfish and lacks any awareness of what is going on around her. Perhaps that is the meta-commentary on her character, seeing as she is unable to leave her self imposed prison. Get them both out of here. Please and thank you.

Engin’s romance? Honestly, I don’t care at all. He has no chemistry with Piril and call me salty, but did the camera linger on their kiss longer than any other on the show? Maybe I am just being salty. Moving along.

Low key confused about how sad I felt for Selin? She isn’t my fave, and yes, Ferit deserves more than a woman who literally planned to dump him 0.5 seconds before their wedding day, but I guess she realised that the love of a man who adores her is a better choice than chasing a pipedream. Plus, the humiliation of being dumped at the alter… how does one recover. Not sure what her character brings to the show now seeing as her connection was through Ferit. So we’ll see...

Urm… who else is low key rooting for Ferit and Ceren? Didn’t see that one coming, but at least it’s an exciting development.

Things I know is coming:

Some third-party, potential romantic interest for Eda? Don’t see how this will work because she only has eyes for Serkan. So perhaps “romance” isn’t the direction it will take… one can only hope.

The Bolat’s trying to break up Eda and Serkan? Not sure why that’s necessary. Serkan certainly had nothing to do with - nor any knowledge of - his fathers aforementioned undesirable business practices. While I have no doubt this will create tension, I hope to God they don’t tell Serkan and have him wrestle with how to tell Eda and in doing so, create secrets and distance between them.

Eda tells either Ayfer or her besties that she and Serkan are in love. #HereForIt

“I can’t breathe when you’re not here” !!! #CallTheParamedic

And most importantly:

Seyfi remains my absolute fave.

Do they have an overnight stay next week? Because… it sure looked like it.

#FlingsSelfIntoTheEverLovingSun #NotPrepared

#sen cal kapimi #edser #serkan bolat #eda yildiz #Sen Çal Kapımı #naz rambles

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merlinsblueeyes · 3 years

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Summary: Will and Merlin had always looked forward to the harvest ever since they were little. They got to run around, cheer and holler, sing as loud as they wanted and no one would bat an eye. It was the day when their raucous troublemaking was viewed by the village not as an annoyance, but as part of all the fun. Today was different, though.

**********

Will and Merlin sat on the roof of a house in Ealdor, legs kicking off the side and knees touching ever so slightly. Their faces were illuminated by the golden yellow light of the full moon that greatly contrasted the dark night sky.

The air smelled of a cool night breeze, crisp autumn leaves, and food cooking in the village below. Music played softly from somewhere not too far away. It was the day of harvest in Ealdor when the farmers bring in the crops they’ve been growing all summer and come together to make a feast, with everything ranging from roasted pheasant to sweet desserts. A bonfire is lit and everyone dances and drinks, having one more day of laughter before the weather turns cold and dismal and the crops die out.

Will and Merlin had always looked forward to the harvest ever since they were little. They got to run around, cheer and holler, sing as loud as they wanted and no one would bat an eye. It was the day when their raucous troublemaking was viewed by the village not as an annoyance, but as part of all the fun.

Today was different, though.

A few days ago, Merlin told Will that his mother was thinking about sending him away to Camelot. She had learned that Will knew about Merlin’s magic, and was terrified of what he would do with this information. She was only looking out for her son, but it deeply hurt Will. After all, she was wrong. He would never betray Merlin. Will was his best friend.

They were friends for life, and that wasn’t going to change now. It was the way things had always been. The thought of not having Merlin in his life anymore had really gotten to Will. It burrowed into his mind and wouldn’t leave him alone, no matter how hard he tried to get rid of it. Simply thinking about it put Will into a dejected state, and he no longer felt much like talking, not even to Merlin.

The silence hung heavily between them even on the day of the harvest, putting quite a damper on the carefree and cheerful mood they were normally in. Only a few words had been exchanged during dinner, and they merely watched others participate in festivities as they stood to the side.

Knowing this could very well be the last harvest he spent with Merlin, Will wanted to make it the best one they’ve ever spent together, but he couldn’t.

No matter what he did, it wasn’t going to be what he wanted, and it certainly wasn’t going to change anything.

One good night wouldn’t be enough to say everything Will wanted to say to Merlin.

Besides, it would pale in comparison to the memories they’d created when they were young.

“What are you thinking about?” Merlin’s voice jerked Will back into reality, and he blinked a few times before turning his head to address his friend.

His breath escaped him when he really looked at Merlin for the first time that night. The moonlight hit Merlin’s cheekbones in just the right way, accentuating their sharpness. His deep blue eyes were shining and glittered with the reflection of the millions of stars that decorated the sky. He was almost glowing, his pale skin stark against his raven hair, reminding Will of the moon and the sky.

He realized his gaze lingered a little too long, and he quickly averted his eyes back down to his feet and mumbled, “Oh, I was just thinking about when we were younger, how much fun we’d have at harvests.”

Merlin laughed and leaned to the side to lightly shove Will with his shoulder and joked, “Are you saying we don’t have fun anymore?”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Will snapped.

Merlin quieted.

The painful silence returned.

“I’m sorry, that came out harsher than I expected,” he sighed. Of course, the mood was finally lightening up and he’d gone and ruined it. “I was just looking back on some good times.” He glanced back up to Merlin. He had a soft smile on his face.

Good; Will hadn’t completely messed things up.

“Any specific moments that come to mind?” Merlin asked and chuckled. Will knew he was partially joking, but he also knew Merlin was curious.

With a yawn, Will stretched his arms over his head and leaned back a little before answering, “Yeah, there are a few things.”

Come a little bit closer

Hear what I have to say

“Will! Wait up!”

“It’s not my fault you’re a slowpoke!”

“Merlin, be careful!” Hunith called from one of the tents set up around the village, piling her plate with meat and carrots. “Don’t fall.”

Will doubled over laughing and pointed his finger at Merlin. “Yeah, be careful sweetie, don’t fall!” Before Merlin could retaliate, Will was already rushing to the table that held all the desserts, leaving Merlin in the dust.

“‘Scuse me, mister,” Will mumbled as he shoved past Old Man Simmons and grabbed the one remaining fruit from a plate, leaving only crumbs behind.

Merlin ran up behind Will, just a second too late. “Will,” he whined, “You took the last one!”

“Again, you’re a slowpoke,” Will giggled and stuck his tongue out.

“Not fair!”

Will smirked, then took his tart and raised it to his mouth to take a bite, but stopped just before he did.

In front of him, Merlin, with his rosy cheeks and ears that stuck out too far, gazed at the tart with eyes that welled with tears. His bottom lip trembled as he watched Will holding the sweet.

Will looked down at the tart, then back up at Merlin. He did this a couple more times, then huffed as he outstretched his arm to his friend.

“Here, you can have it,” he grumbled. “You like them better, anyways.”

Merlin’s eyes widened and he audibly gasped. “You really mean it?”

“Yeah, you clotpole, I mean it.”

With gentle hands, Merlin slowly took the tart from Will, who gave him a small nod of encouragement. Once he had it in his hands, he paused for a moment, then threw his arms around Will and hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Will.”

Although taken aback at first, Will gave into the hug and patted Merlin’s back.

“Yeah, anytime.”

Just like children sleepin'

We could dream this night away

“You’ve always been such a hog,” Merlin teased, earning a chuckle out of Will. “Especially when it comes to desserts.”

Will protested lightheartedly. “Oh come on, you can’t blame a guy for loving sweets, can you? I mean, those tarts John makes are really something else.”

“That’s why they’re my favorite,” Merlin agreed with a smirk on his face. “Did you manage to grab any today? I didn’t really notice; my head was somewhere else.”

“There weren’t any,” Will replied a bit stiffly. “At least none that I saw.”

“Are you sure you looked hard enough?”

“Yeah.”

Merlin’s smirk faded, and he scratched his head then turned away.

Will scolded himself internally for making the situation uncomfortable yet again. He just couldn’t keep his big mouth shut, could he?

He shifted a little, moving the slightest bit away from Merlin, their dangling knees no longer touching. Will didn’t understand why he was being so awkward around Merlin, someone he’d known all his life, his best friend since they were kids. The thought of Merlin leaving saddened him, but that wasn’t the only thing.

It was something different.

He hadn’t felt this way around Merlin before, not really. Well, except for maybe--

“Hey, I just remembered something!” Merlin said, his voice bright.

Will glanced up and met Merlin’s eyes, putting his thoughts on hold for the moment. “What is it?”

“Just another memory from a harvest a few years back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and I think you’ll remember this one, too.”

But there's a full moon risin'

Let's go dancin' in the light

The gleeful sound of laughter mixed with the sound of the roaring fire crackling and jovial music playing from villagers with their various instruments.

Will and Merlin skipped around the fire, around and around in circles, giggling and singing out loudly to their hearts’ content. Merlin’s surroundings were a whirling mix of a fiery blaze and bright sparks. There was maybe a flash of a nearby tree or someone passing by, but it was all so blurry, he couldn't tell for sure.

His lungs grew hungry for air and he gulped it in, tasting ash on his tongue.

He was getting out of breath, but he didn’t care. He was having too much fun to notice.

He gripped Will’s hand, slick with sweat, as tightly as he could, then closed his eyes and let his feet carry him wherever they may please. The fire was deafening in his ears and now he really couldn’t tell what was happening around him, but it was perfect that way.

At least, it was until his hand slipped from Will’s and he collided into the body of a much taller person.

‘Oh no,” he heard Will snicker, his voice full of mirth.

That couldn’t mean anything good.

Slowly, Merlin opened his eyes and found himself staring up at the wizened, vexed face of their very own Old Man Simmons. Merlin immediately stumbled back and cursed quietly to himself. Of course, out of everyone in Ealdor, he had to have run into Simmons.

The old man raised his hand, clenched tightly in a fist, and shook it at Merlin., “It’s you, naturally,” he sneered. “It’s always you when there’s trouble in this village. Why can’t you be normal like the rest of us?”

Merlin shrunk back against Will and bit his tongue. He wanted to retaliate but wasn’t going to risk slipping up and saying something about his magic. Instead, Will stepped forward and placed an arm in front of Merlin protectively.

“I’m sorry, sir, but that’s no way to speak to him. I’d say that was rather rude of you,” Will chided. Simmons was growing more and more agitated, and he shot back. “I can speak to the boy however I want to.”

Will straightened and advanced further. His eyes were nearly level with those of Old Man Simmons. He’d gotten tall in the past few years.

“He has a name, and it’s Merlin,” he fired.

Merlin hissed behind him, “Will, just leave it. I’m alright.”

Ignoring his friend, Will continued, “He has every right to be called his name as everyone else here does.”

“Will!”

“Don’t test me, boy.”

He must’ve been deaf, for he only continued to push the subject. “So why don’t you apologize to my friend here, who you so disrespectfully yelled at?”

That was it. Rage boiled in the face of the old man and he yelled at the two of them, waving his arm about wildly, ”Get out of here you little wretches, or you’ll regret it!!”

At that, Will turned on his heels and grabbed Merlin’s wrist, dragging him along as he sprinted into the foggy forest beyond the borders of Ealdor. The rambling shouts of Old Man Simmons rang out in the air behind them, but soon faded, along with the other sounds of the bustling village and the warmth of the fire. Their feet pounded heavily against the mossy ground and they filled the chilly air with their breath. At some point during the run, Will must’ve let go of Merlin because he was several strides ahead, his long legs carrying him farther.

They ran for a few more minutes until the light from Ealdor could no longer reach them, and they stood alone in the empty woods.

Will leaned against a tree and bent halfway over with his hand on his chest, panting heavily and laughing as well. Merlin fell to the ground, then tilted his head up to the sky, breathing in the clean fresh air.

As soon as he’d caught his breath, he stood up and brushed the muddy dead leaves off his pants. He turned to Will, and their eyes locked. Will began to beam and he burst out into laughter, doubling over yet again. Merlin chuckled a little too, but not as much.

Will, after laughing a bit more, noticed, and asked, “What’s wrong?” He placed a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and ran his eyes over Merlin’s troubled countenance. “Didn’t you see his face? It was priceless.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Merlin agreed, averting his gaze. “But I wasn’t done dancing. I was having a lot of fun.”

Instantly, Will’s features softened. He withdrew his hand from Merlin’s shoulder and chuckled a little. “Oh, Merlin,” he sighed.

“What?”

“You don’t need music to dance, now do you?”

Merlin cocked his head and furrowed his brow. The corner of his mouth raised in a mocking smirk and he queried, “And how exactly does one do that?”

With a gentle and reassuring tone, Will told him, “Take my hand, I’ll show you.”

We know where the music's playin'

Let's go out and feel the night

“And that’s how you taught me to dance,” Merlin finished. “I mean, really dance.”

During the story, Will had relaxed and brought his legs up onto the roof. Merlin had done the same and they sat facing each other, legs crossed and their faces lit up.

Below in the village, people were beginning to head inside for the night. The bonfires were reduced to smoldering embers and a lone musician played his lyre.

Will breathed out in a sort of laugh. He shook his head and replied, “You kept stepping on my feet, and you tried to put your hands on my waist, remember?”

“But we eventually got the hang of it, didn’t we?”

Will nodded half-heartedly and murmured, “I guess we did.”

He remembered it as being one of the best nights of his life, but he wasn’t about to admit that. Not now.

The feeling of Merlin’s sharp eyes watching his every move burned into him, and he tried to shift the conversation elsewhere. He looked at their surroundings for something to talk about. There was the mottled grass below, the dark expanse of forests, tops of the heads of villagers, nothing really noteworthy. Then Will glanced up back at the sky he had been admiring in Merlin’s eyes earlier.

It was just as breathtaking spread out above them; a vast comforting blanket of black, dressed in a canopy of luminescent stars. While it was easy to ignore this dusting of light and instead fixate on the glowing moon that bathed the earth in its warm light, Will knew that the stars are what truly caught Merlin’s fancy.

He lifted one finger and pointed into the sky above.

“There, that’s the bear,” Will said as if Merlin didn’t already know. “You can tell because of the way those three stars right there are connected.”

“You remembered what I taught you last year,” Merlin whispered. Will didn’t need to see him to know that he was smiling.

Ignoring him for now, Will continued, “And past the bear, just north, there’s the hunter.”

But now it's gettin' late

And the moon is climbin' high

“Do you know why they call it that?” Merlin eagerly asked. They lay on the soft yellow grass of a glade in the woods, staring up at the autumn sky above. Before Will even got the chance to make a guess, Merlin was already explaining. “That big star and the little ones below it make it look like a spear!”

“That’s incredible,” Will said, not really listening to anything Merlin said. He was distracted by how attractive Merlin was when he was excited about something. He could listen to Merlin talk for ages about anything. It was worth it just to see him so happy.

“And you know how my mom always says the sky tells you stories?”

“Mhm?”

“She’s right. Right by the hunter is this boar he’s hunting, see and-”

At some point, Merlin’s voice blended into the sound of the wind brushing through the branches of the evergreen trees, and the crickets chirping around them. The sky was incredibly clear that night, and the air smelled of the earthy scent of petrichor.

Merlin had his hand in the air, droning on and on about the story of the hunter. He watched the stars in fascination, unaware that Will was looking someplace else. With his hands resting on his chest, he couldn’t help but turn his head until his cheek was pressed against the ground and he looked straight at Merlin, mere inches apart from each other. The edges of Merlin’s face glowed a honeyed amber with the light of the moon. His lips moved but Will heard no words from them. He didn’t need to.

If he could spend forever frozen in this one night, he would.

Merlin didn’t need to use his magic for their time spent together to feel enchanting.

The moment was broken when Merlin stopped talking, apparently noticing the lack of engagement in their so-called conversation and turned his head to face Will.

Suddenly they were both staring deep into each other’s eyes. Merlin’s were wide and searching Will’s face, looking for nothing in particular. Will was sure he himself had stilled completely and was gawking directly at his friend. He wasn’t sure how to act. He was taken aback by their sudden closeness, although he did not object to it.

For what felt like an eternity, they lay next to each other on the forest floor, before Merlin sat up and laughed. “You didn’t listen to a word I said, did you?”

Will, in turn, sat up as well and immediately apologized, “I’m sorry, I wanted to listen, but I just got distracted.”

“What, by my pretty face?” Merlin teased, though there was something in his voice that made it sound like he wasn’t completely joking.

A fiery heat shot through Will’s cheeks and his heart began to thump in his chest. “Oh, I didn’t, I wasn’t, I-” he began, but was stopped by Merlin waving him off.

“Don’t worry, I was just kidding,” he said as he stood up. “I know you’re just tired.” He extended his hand out to Will.

Thankful for not having to explain himself, Will chuckled and took Merlin’s hand in his. He was lifted from the ground and came face to face with Merlin again. Will couldn’t help noticing that they were about the same height now. Will had always been the taller one, but now maybe that was going to change.

Things always change.

I want to celebrate

See it shinin' in your eye

And then Will realized.

He realized what he would’ve said that night if Merlin never cut him off, and he realized that if he didn’t say it now, here, on their final harvest before Merlin left him, he would never say it.

Last harvest together, last chance to say it, last chance to finally get it all right.

He’d spent all night being distant and detached, pushing Merlin away in fear of not being able to make the night as good as he wanted it to be, but that was just the problem.

He wasn’t going to get anywhere unless he said something; unless he tried.

Suddenly it all felt right.

Sitting there on the roof under the stars, talking in the light of the full moon, reminiscing on the time they’d spent together over the year, there had never been a better time. Will was a fool to not have realized this earlier. The crisp night air hung heavy with words unspoken but were on the cusp of being said. The breeze ran through Merlin’s hair, ever so slightly rustling it and his eyes were wide and staring expectantly at Will, waiting for him to say something.

“Merlin,” he began steadily, picking and choosing his next words in his head. He had to find the right way to say this; simply blurting it out wasn’t going to do. His mind ran through certain memories over and over again, trying to find the perfect one. He found himself coming back to a harvest day long ago when they’d been little more than toddlers. He wasn’t sure if Merlin would even remember it, but it was worth a try to bring it up.

Will continued quietly, “There’s one more thing that I was thinking about.”

“What is it?” Merlin asked, and leaned forward slightly.

“We were very young; it’s possible you’ll have no idea what I’m talking about.”

With a lopsided grin, Merlin responded, “Oh come on, I have a great memory. Try me.”

Still hesitant, Will looked up to Merlin’s face, his eyebrows narrowed. “Okay. So, do you remember one year, when we were out by the creek, playing?”

“Go on.”

Shifting a little, Will sighed. He was already blushing, wasn’t he? “Well, my mum had just told me about what being in love was like.”

Merlin’s face stiffened. He was even paler than he had been before and he inhaled sharply. The grin was gone from his face. Oh god. He had messed up. Merlin was going to think he was insane. He should’ve never had said anything in the first place, what was he thinking? He-

“I remember this,” Merlin spoke softly. “Keep going.”

Will’s panicked thoughts came to a halt. Oh. Maybe he still had a chance. “I was just a kid, you know, and I still hadn’t quite grasped the concept.”

“Right.”

“And so I,” he stopped to laugh in attempts to lighten the mood a little, then resumed, “I told you I was in love with you.”

His breath hitched in his throat on the last words. His chest was tight and the anticipation of how Merlin was going to respond to this suffocated him.

The painful silence from earlier that night was back and worse than ever. Merlin just stared at Will with an uninterpretable look on his face. It felt like an eternity that they sat there on the roof, just staring at each other. Will's heart was hammering now. He hadn't even really said it yet and already he was terrified.

Finally, after an agonizing minute, Merlin spoke. "Will, are you trying to say something?" There was genuine concern in his voice. "You seem kinda nervous."

"Ahhh, I don't know," Will started to backtrack. He wasn't sure anymore that this was the right thing to do. "Let's just move on."

Merlin didn't move on. "Actually, you've been off the whole night," he pressed. "Not just this night, too. You've been acting strange ever since I told you my mum was going to send me away to Camelot."

"Merlin, listen-"

"No, you listen," Merlin was growing louder. "If you have something to tell me, Will, please just tell me. You're my best friend and I don't like how weird you've been recently." Will tried protesting and changing the subject again, but to no avail. "Please Will, whatever it is, just tell me."

Blood was rushing in Will's ears, beginning to deafen and overwhelm him. Merlin pushed further and further, begging Will to just tell him.

There were too many noises all around, too much pressure to say it, now no escape from the words just on the tip of his tongue.

Will pulled his face into a tight grimace and blurted out in a brusque manner, "I was right!"

Merlin stopped talking in an instant, freezing mid-sentence. He tilted his head curiously, and through his heavy breathing, asked, tentativeness creeping into his voice, "Right about what?"

Will shut his eyes, not being able to look Merlin in the face as he let it all come tumbling out.

His heart felt like it had stopped beating.

His limbs were made of stone.

His lips were chapped and his throat was dry, but he still poured as much of his soul into his words as he possibly could and croaked. "I was right, okay?”

A pause.

“I’m in love with you."

“Oh.”

“I love you and I was scared that I wasn't going to be able to tell you and I’m so sorry for all of this,” he finished.

There was no pain in the air now, no empty space between them, the confession so heavy it was tangible.

When Will managed to meet Merlin’s gaze, he felt right for the first time that night.

A rosy and twinkling magic washed through him, warming him from head to toe. It filled his lungs with fresh air and soothed his aching heart. On that night under the stars, the same magic had been so strongly present. It had taken Will over and coaxed him into an enchanting dream.

Will hadn’t quite been able to identify the magic before, but tonight he knew.

He knew that it was love, and those two nights weren’t the only times it had been there.

The magic was always in him when he was around Merlin, really. It just came in varying degrees

It was in him when their hands would brush accidentally, when Will looked at Merlin for a few seconds longer than friends should, and even when they were simply in each other’s presence.

Will loved Merlin in every way he could; in his eyes that made Will weak in the knees, in how his ears stuck out, in his kindness to those in the village, in the way Merlin cared about things more than anyone Will had ever known before.

He loved Merlin for his connection to the world surrounding them, for never putting himself first, and for the way he lived.

Will loved Merlin just for being who he was, and the tenderness in Merlin’s softened features and the coy smile on his lips as Merlin stared back at him told Will that Merlin felt the same way.

He didn’t need to hear the words, but Merlin said them anyway.

Placing one gentle hand on Will’s knee, Merlin shook his head and softly laughed. “Will, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.” He gave a small squeeze to Will’s knee.

“I can’t believe I never said it before,” Will replied breathlessly. “I mean, I’m not sure even if I knew before. Well, I think in a way I always have, but--”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Merlin calmed him. “I don’t need an explanation. Besides, it’s something I’ve been wanting to say for a while now, too.”

Will hoped Merlin couldn’t tell he was blushing under the light of the moon.

His shoulders relaxed and he felt incredibly light after the weight of it all had been lifted off his shoulders.

Merlin knew Will loved him, and Will knew Merlin loved him.

The moment was perfect, but it was fleeting as well, for their situation resurfaced in Will’s mind, along with the reason he’d been so cold. Merlin was leaving him.

“Oh God, it’s not too late is it?” he asked, panicked.

Merlin scrunched his nose, perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve had our entire lives for this, we’ve had all the time there is in the world,” he explained, “and of course I’m telling you now.”

“Will…” “Merlin, you said she’s just thinking about it, but you and I both know that she’s really going to send you away.” Will’s voice cracked on the last word. His throat tightened up thinking about everything they’d missed. They could’ve been something, but maybe he waited too long.

They hadn’t even kissed.

A cold hand to his cheek took him out of his head. Merlin was leaning in close now, and he murmured, “It’s not too late.” He ran his thumb over Will’s cheekbone soothingly. Will closed his eyes with a shaky exhale and accepted the comforting touch. Merlin must’ve been even closer now, for his hot breath tickled Will’s ear as he whispered, “Do you hear that?”

Will strained to hear what Merlin may be talking about. Carried by the breeze was the sound of various instruments buzzing with a low and peaceful melody. The lyre player was not so lonely anymore.

“There’s still music, Will. And see up there, above our heads?”

“The moon,” Will responded, not having to open his eyes.

Hair rustled through his own. Merlin was nodding. “Right, so that means there’s still light too.”

Will chuckled and blinked his eyes open. “So the night isn’t over.”

“We still have time to make this our most memorable harvest yet.”

Because I'm still in love with you

I want to see you dance again

In front of a dying fire where the embers still burned bright and not too far from music, Will and Merlin stood across from each other, smiles on their faces and a sense of belonging in their hearts. The golden light from the sky above created dark shadows and dappled the dull grass beneath their feet. It soaked their complexions with warmth, and for the millionth time that night, Will was taken away by Merlin.

He huffed out an admiring laugh and offered an outstretched hand to Merlin, who took it with a sensitive but firm grip. WIll slightly tugged on Merlin’s hand and drew him closer until their faces were in such close proximity that WIll had to turn his head upwards to meet Merlin’s eyes.

He had grown taller.

“Remember how I taught you?” he spoke in a low voice, to which Merlin responded by nodding and cupping his other hand around Will’s waist.

The instant he had, his face turned red and he quickly withdrew it. “Oh, I’m sorry. I did it again.”

Will opened his mouth, planning to tell Merlin it was alright and to continue as normal, but after a moment’s thought, he changed his mind. “It’s alright.’ “Pardon me?” A coy smile tugged at the corner of Merlin’s mouth.

“Don’t be like that,” Will teased. “Go on, just for tonight, you can lead.”

Although Merlin seemed skeptical at first, he obliged and placed both his hands now on Will’s waist. He pulled Will’s hips forward a little until they were pressed up against each other, their body heat considerably warming up the brisk autumn night.

Will reached his arms around Merlin’s neck and rested his forehead on Merlin’s. Once they were in place, they began to dance.

They swayed gently side to side to the ambient music, perfectly in sync with one another. Will was vaguely aware of Merlin’s slender fingers moving down his waist, trying to find a good grip. He felt Merlin’s breath mingle with his and heard him humming quietly to the melody. They were comfortable and safe in each other’s arms under the full moon. The only thing either of them cared about at that moment was each other.

Will’s arms tightened around Merlin’s neck. He clung onto him as if he’d be dragged away at any second, which was all too real a possibility in Will’s mind. As they moved back and forth together, loneliness and grief already began to crawl up Will’s spine and into his head.

This, here, right now, was the closest they were going to be for a long while.

Before he knew it was happening, tears were spilling down Will’s face. He buried his face in the crook of Merlin’s neck, into his neckerchief, and began to weep. He wanted to stop, to not make this night any more tragic than it already was, but he couldn’t.

Luckily, Merlin noticed and brought their swaying to a slow stop. He sharply inhaled, breath catching in his throat as he slid his hand up and started to run his fingers through Will’s hair.

“It’ll be alright,” he murmured. “It’s all going to be fine.”

Will continued to cry into his shoulder, staining Merlin’s neckerchief with his tears, but he did not cease. He dug his fingers into the collar of Merlin’s worn jacket and held on for dear life.

“Merlin,” he wept. “I’m so sorry I’ve been acting distant recently, I was…” He paused to gulp in a breath. “I am terrified of the thought of you leaving, and I don’t know how to deal with it.”

The music had died out, and the fire was going to as well any minute now.

“Shh, it’s okay Will, I understand,” Merlin spoke calmly, but Will knew him well enough to hear that he was crying as well. “I love you.”

That only made Will sob harder, his body wracked with pain, but he was laughing, too. He was laughing because he’d finally admitted his true feelings for Merlin, and it was all under the wrong circumstances, but still perfect.

Will always did enjoy the tragedies.

In the middle of a chuckle, he lifted his head back up to look into Merlin’s eyes. The raven-haired boy’s face was tear-streaked and his bottom lip trembled. He wasn’t far from breaking down as well. He stammered a few times before getting out “Will--”

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by Will closing the distance between them and pressing his lips to Merlin’s tenderly. He brought his hand to the side of Merlin’s face and deepened the kiss, only pulling back for air for a second before going back in.

Will had been dreaming of this moment for years.

Merlin kissed back gently while his fingers rested underneath Will’s chin, tilting it upward.

Will went slowly, wanting to make this moment last for as long as he could.

The magic had returned, and it burned with more fire than it ever had before. So this is what love, passionate, intense, true love was like.

Will thought to himself that he could get used to it. It was too bad he wasn’t going to get the chance.

Finally he pulled away after what felt like minutes but was probably only mere seconds.

Merlin’s eyes were brighter than they’d ever been before, and it wasn’t just because of the stars. They glistened with pure joy and tears, and Will was sure his did as well.

“Please,” he whimpered. “I don’t want you to go.”

More tears were welling up in Merlin’s eyes and he bit his lip to keep them from falling. “I don’t want to go, but I have to,” he said, his voice wavering. “And you have to let me.”

“No,” Will cried. He pressed his face into Merlin’s chest and kept his hands clenched into the coat collar. “No, you can’t go, I don’t want you to.”

Merlin shut his eyes and one more tear fell. He rested his chin on top of Will’s head and reassured him, “I’m going to come back to visit you, alright?” They had started to sway again, even though the night air was still and silent and the fire was gone, only a wispy tendril of white smoke in its place. “You know I’ll come back.”

Will kept his head down, but his crying ceased, at least partially. With a sniff, he asked, “Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

That was the end of the conversation.

Nothing more was needed.

Merlin brought his hands back down to Will’s waist, and their foreheads met again. And so there they danced, by the outskirts of the foggy forests of Ealdor, smoke swirling beneath their feet. The lights in the village had gone out, but they had all the light they needed from the moon. They danced with no music, but as Will had taught Merlin several years ago, you don’t need music to dance.

Because I'm still in love with you

On this harvest moon

#willappreciation2020 #bbc merlin #will merlin #merlin fic #merlin #william of ealdor #merwill

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