#but i don't like that as an answer for the golden flowers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alavestineneas · 5 months

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Losing dogs

pairing: young!coriolanussnow x fem!reader

summary: His golden prize, his future wife, was now bound to him by the ring on her finger. Of all of his investments, this one had the potential to yield the greatest return. warnings: not really canon-compliant, mentions of minor violence, blood and shitty relationships word count: 4k

Part 2 is here!

author's note: remember kids, manipulators and sick bastards are only hot in fiction - don't do them (and drugs) in real life!

The polished toes of his new shoes reflected everything in the grand hall—they caught glimmers of lamps adorned with gold, colourful drapes on the enormous windows, and the kaleidoscopic dresses of women around. The chatter filled the room, almost too loud to hear the music—not that he would enjoy it either. Some things require focus.

''Mister Fabius, Missis Fabius.''

Corialanus's face melts into a smile-like expression at the sight of the older couple.

They look like lice in the large building—rich lice, that is. The golden and platinum rings on Missis Fabius's fingers shine with every gemstone known to man, mirroring the bright lights. The jewels look ugly on the wrinkly hand, he notes. What a waste.

''Mister Snow, what a surprise! I was just telling Livia of your prodigious success in your new position. Incredible work, Mr. Snow; simply incredible! ''

The man's face radiated with excitement, getting closer in shade to his burgundy tie. The gold threats on it piqued more interest for Mister Snow than the words of the old man—after all, it's not every day you meet such luxury in person.

The man's wife, however, seemed less enthusiastic; her cold, bored gaze circled him up and down, stopping only after getting the satisfaction of an undoubtedly unpleasant conclusion.

Coriolanus mentally went over his outfit, hairstyle, and anything else she might have noticed. Nothing was out of place; the holes in his coat were a thing of the past. Still, it was something—that thought found its place in his brain, drilling a small hole in its way.

''When will we know of your decision, Mister Snow? We gave you time—a lot of time.''

''This evening, Mrs. Fabius. After the play, I promise to give you my answer tonight.''

He has to look first. What fool buys a horse blind? Sure, the horse came with immense fortunes and, most importantly, connections, but still. He couldn't afford to make a hasty decision, especially when the stakes were so high. After all, he was one of the most desirable bachelors; Fabiuses had to thank him for even considering the offer.

''There is no agreement until tomorrow, Mister Snow. We will have you for breakfast at nine o'clock sharp,'' Mr Fabius said, placing a hand on his wife's back and leading her towards the entrance. They could afford not to make one's adieu.

The opera was popular among the richest; all of the seats were taken. He would have lied if he said the golden rails and red velvet didn't make him feel a bit out of place. Nobody paid him any attention, although this time it didn't hurt him as much as usual. He could hide in the shadows of his box seat without being concerned about making an impression.

Not the stage, of course. It was the least of his worries, although he did pay a high price for a ticket. No, he looked at her.

The golden gown on her was a shimmering masterpiece. Layers and layers of the most expensive fabric covered her body like soft waves, crashing down at the round neckline with their gilded ends. She wore diamond earrings, just like her mother did, although they suited her better.

Coriolanus remembered her from the academy; she always sat near the window, gazing out at the world with a longing in her eyes. She wasn't a very bright student but rather a dutiful one. always on time, always prepared with her assignments, and always eager to please her teachers. The heiress to the jewellery empire. The flower of the elite social scene. Her presence attracted attention, yet she seamlessly blended into the background, never stealing the spotlight. YN Fabius was everything he needed her to be—a picture, but never a spectacle.

The manor was grand and opulent, showing the wealth and status of the Fabius family. Its sprawling gardens and delicate architecture were a testament to its esteemed position in society. Collums, paintings, and endless staircases stood as if frozen in time. It was as if there was no war just a decade ago.

''Mister Snow,'' the butler called out, his voice echoing through the grand foyer. ''Breakfast is served in the blue dining hall; if you would please follow me.''

Thousands and thousands of steps and passages lined the walls, leading to various wings and chambers of the mansion. It was warm, even during the cold autumn season. Only keeping the fireplaces always lit must cost a fortune.

When they finally reached the needed room, Coriolanus was slightly out of breath. The blue walls reached the high ceiling, painted with pictures of half-naked gods and goddesses frolicking in fields of flowers. It created the illusion of a smell wafting through the air as if the vibrant colours had come to life.

The table was served for four, not three, suggesting that someone else was expected to join them. The silverware gleamed under the soft rays of sunshine, casting a shimmering glow across the room—pure silver, nothing less.

The door behind him opened with a gentle creak, revealing Mr. Fabiuse's humble figure. His simple, at first glance, shirt was another of the perfectly constructed illusions—Coriolanus knew the fabrics like the back of his hand. The shirt, though seemingly plain, was made from the finest Egyptian cotton, woven with intricate patterns.

''Mister Snow, how good that you came on time. Excuse my ladies, the girls are such girls at every age. Take so long to get ready,'' he laughs. ''Please, take a seat," Mr. Fabius said, gesturing towards a plush chair covered in velvet.

''There is no point in all of those paints once you hit sixty,'' Mrs.Fabius said, appearing right behind her husband. She circled the table before taking a seat herself, her eyes glancing disapprovingly at the young man. "Let's begin before the food grows cold," she added with a sigh, her tone tinged with resignation.

''Of course,'' Mr. Fabius nodded, lifting the lid on the first dish. The aroma of it filled the room, and Coriolanus couldn't help but feel his hunger grow. He didn't have the habit of eating so much in the morning—another thing he needs to adjust about his routine.

When Mr.Fabius finally placed the fork down, Coriolanus knew it was time. ''Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Fabius. I must say, I thought a lot about your proposal, and after careful consideration, I have decided to accept it.''

''Good.'' Mrs. Fabius answered instead, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "I'm glad to hear that, Coriolanus. I believe this union will bring great delights to both of us."

Mr. Fabius seemed not to notice the interruption. ''I think a winter wedding would be absolutely perfect. Everybody seems to be getting married in the spring, but in the winter? Oh, it's definitely going to be a hit. Ah, and here's the lucky bride-to-be!''

She stood beside the just-opened door, her eyes following his expressions. Her hands, adorned just with one small pearl ring, were gently clasped together in front of her. She looked nervous, like a child standing in front of the full class on the first school day. Her dress, a delicate lace creation, clings to her figure like a second skin.

He smiled at her. YN looked like an antique statue, as if she just stepped out of the ruins of the Panem. Coriolanus wasn't even sure she was breathing—her stillness was so deep.

''Let's leave the lover birds to chirp,'' Mrs.Fabius said, standing up. She walked towards the couple, her heels clicking against the floor, and extended her hand towards YN. "Congratulations, my dear," she said with a warm smile before leaving, her husband following after her.

''It's time for a ring, isn't it?'' Coriolanus cleared his throat. Everything is to be done appropriately; there is no reason to avoid traditions. He reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out a small box. White, of course—who is he, if not a romantic at heart?

''Mr. Snow,'' YN watched him stand up and come closer with the same expression she always bore—a mixture of melancholy and worship. ''Grant me something.''

He paused. Coriolanus didn't like to make promises. He would have to make it clear to her later, after the wedding—the fact that he took her for a bride was enough of a promise. Still, he needed this engagement to work, and he was not about to lose it to a crude lie. With a sigh, he softly replied, "What is it that you desire, Miss YN?"

''Promise me you will be kind to me. All of our marriage, promise to be kind to my heart.''

Coriolanus almost laughed in her face. Oh, what a lovely, clueless fool. "I will do my best to treat you with kindness, Miss YN."

''Good,'' she smiles. ''I think we will make a great couple then, Mister Snow.''

''Coriolanus, my dear. Please call me Coriolanus."

He couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. It was sealed. His golden prize, his future wife, was now bound to him by the ring on her finger. Of all of his investments, this one had the potential to yield the greatest return.

Mr.Fabius didn't lie—his daughter was the perfect bride. She never spoke to him unless he did first; she never questioned him. She simply followed his lead, like a well-trained pet. A pretty, lovely YN. She knew what to do, how to dress, and what to say. He searched for one—at least a slight imperfection—and couldn't find one; it was as if she wasn't a human, which, to him, she wasn't.

''What are you going to do today?'' he asks, without bothering to look up from the newspaper. He doesn't wish to hear her answer, but he still asks out of courtesy. Coriolanus knows that her daily routine is made up of attending charity events, dinners with influential figures's wives, and shopping for designer clothes. It's a predictable pattern.

''Well, the trees I ordered came in today; I'll have to chat with the new gardener about them. Are you meeting with anyone important later?"

''As a matter of fact, I do. Larry Tremblay wants to include me in a business deal he's been working on."

It's partly true, but she doesn't need to know more. Just a familiar name was usually enough for his wife to hum in satisfaction and assume that he was still climbing the social ladder. Not this time, evidently.

''You shouldn't accept.''

He looked up from his cup, trying to guess if she had gone out of her mind. YN looked like usual, her eyes meeting his without a care in the world. Why today, of all days, she decided to question his decision was beyond him. He cleared his throat, attempting to maintain his composure. "And why should I decline such a good-looking opportunity?"

''He beats his wife. Just yesterday, I saw her with bruises. ''

Coriolanus fought hard to keep a smile from forming on his lips. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, feigning indifference. He knew his wife wasn't the brightest, but this? "Is that so?"

''Don't you understand what it means? The man only beats his wife for two reasons. If he has always enjoyed those types of things, which Larry did not, or if he loses power and control in other aspects of his life. The business isn't going as well as he wants it to,'' YN lowers her gaze, losing confidence in her voice. ''I thought you would want to know that.''

He would, very much. Her conclusion was the dumbest thing he ever heard, based on some black and blue marks and a twist of her imagination. Still, it was interesting—his wife's head wasn't always empty like he hoped. She thought enough to notice something, and she listened enough to remember his partners.

''I will keep that in mind,'' he replied, his tone tinged with a hint of annoyance. What harm could it do to entertain her thoughts? It was even slightly amusing to see her try to piece together a puzzle that didn't exist.

It wasn't so fun anymore when Larry Tremblay was fired exactly two weeks later. Surely, it could be a consequence, but Coriolanus Snow didn't believe in them. There had to be something, anything, to explain his wife's sudden knowledge—she couldn't have acquired it on her own, about that he was sure.

YN looked unfazed by his questioning gaze as she lay on the dark olive-coloured sofa in his office, continuing to play with a snow-white kitten on her stomach. It was his wedding gift, one of many—the pricy creature with a diamond collar. He thought it was rather symbolic—two caged animals who were once considered sacred.

''How did you understand that Tremblay was about to be fired?'' Coriolanus asked, his voice laced with suspicion. It could be that she overheard the woman talk about it, or even that she had some inside information from her connections. What bothered him more was what she could know from the same source about him.

YN paused, her fingers gently stroking the kitten's fur as she met his gaze. "I didn't know that. I simply knew he had trouble at work. Evidently, they were big enough for him to lose his position."

''Really?'' he chuckled. Maybe she was telling the truth. ''Then, what can you say about my work?''

YN's eyes narrowed slightly. "Your work doesn't matter; how you present yourself does. Can I give you some advice?'

"Sure.'' Coriolanus bit his tongue, fighting the urge to snap back at her. After all, it is what he married her for—to fit in. He took a deep breath.

''Buy a new car, but not the most expensive one; it will give off an impression of stability, like you know the job isn't going anywhere. Your shoes are always too polished; it's like you wore them right out of the box. And throw away that hideous tie you always wear—you look like a student."

''Something else?'' Coriolanus mustered a weak smile, trying to hide his frustration.

''I don't want to offend you, Coriolanus. But I want you to do well. After all, you are my husband now, and your success reflects on both of us. Why not help where I can? You know I love clothes.''

''Good, '' he replied, forcing a more genuine smile. "Now get away from that cat before it scratches you. I'll figure out the rest on my own."

''Of course you will. You are the smartest man I've ever met.''

He was. It was because of his intelligence that YN married him, because of his ambition. Well, that and something else.

From her earliest childhood, YN knew what she was destined to be. She was the child of late parents, the only child, and a girl; she would inherit everything the generations of her family worked so hard to achieve. And YN was no fool; she needed a man. Driven, proud, and cold-blooded. The one who was not afraid to get his hands dirty while she spent her time leisurely in his shadow. Oh, no—YN never minded her place, much like her mother did. She taught her to bet on the finest horses, and Coriolanus Snow was no exception.

From the time she saw him in his ridiculously tight shirt in the academy, she knew what she wanted. Him. The top of every class, the charmer with pretty eyes—a catch, really. Her mother said there was darkness inside her dear Coriolanus, but YN knew. That's why she now sits in the opulent living room, waiting for him to get home. Mr. Snow was a horrific, ruthless man. But he was still, at his core, a man.

And men never listen. That's how she got him and got him good—a silent, fawn-eyed creature that he thought he could control. An obedient wife and a lovely lap dog. It was funny to see his gaze twitch slightly when she said something she wasn't supposed to—how long would it take him to figure it out?

It's time—his tall figure appeared in the corridor leading to the living room. YN watches silently as he takes off his shoes and coat, placing them on the rack by the door. Home at seven p.m. sharp, just like any other day. Just like any other day, dinner is at the table.

He never said thank you. Instead, her closet grew bigger with countless dresses, bags, and shoes—sometimes even brand-new jewellery. YN didn't mind it; she loved it—the jealous whispers of other women at the events about how lucky she was. She didn't have to sleep with a big, fat old man to get the latest fur coat or the most exquisite diamond necklace.

At least a few times a month now, Coriolanus would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming. This night was one of those: YN woke up from the constant turning and tossing in the bed. She doesn't know how he didn't figure out why; it was easy to guess his food contained something to make his sleep far worse—YN made sure of that. Maybe he just didn't have the heart to admit his weaknesses, even to himself.

''Hey,'' she whispered, getting out of the warm covers. YN tiptoed over to Coriolanus' side of the bed, careful not to bump into anything in the dark. ''Hey, wake up. Are you okay?" she asked, gently shaking him awake.

Coriolanus jolted upright, his eyes wide with fear as he gasped for breath. He wasn't; of course, he wasn't. Yn would have lied if she said she didn't find it hot to see him like this—sweat glistening on his forehead, his chest heaving.

''You were having a nightmare again.''

He looked at her with the eyes of a lunatic, still not over his dream. ''What did I say this time?"

''You were mumbling something about birds and songs, I think? It didn't make much sense."

He doesn't recall that she mentored the 10th game too. Without much success, of course, but one thing she did remember was a girl from District 12 who liked to sing. Coriolanus remembered her too; it was evident from the fear that crossed his eyes.

''Excuse me,'' he said, his voice still shaky. ''I need a moment.''

YN watched as he stumbled towards the bathroom, his hands twitching. As much as her husband wanted to hide those parts of himself, he couldn't. Not from her.

There was nothing else to do but wait. YN climbed on the bed, turning her back to the bathroom door. Coriolanus would only come out when he thought she had fallen asleep. She learned to control her breath when she was just a little girl; it saved her life once, when a rebel pointed a gun at her small frame, meaning to shoot. He didn't—what use was it to waste a bullet on a non-breathing child?

Surely, after some time, the blonde man stepped out of the bathroom. For a few minutes, he listened to her steady breathing before sliding under the covers and pressing his body against hers, his large hand covering her shoulders. Coriolanus wasn't gentle; YN wasn't sure he knew what the word meant anyway, but he was careful. His arm around her chest wasn't tight—just enough for him to bring her closer.

As much as YN wanted to turn around and face him, she didn't. There was no point—like any other human, he hated the feeling of vulnerability. Instead, YN focused on the warmth of his body. Coriolanus Snow was a god more than a human, and real gods were never kind. The only currency they recognized was blood.

The annual party for the victor of this year's games. The first year Coriolanus Snow worked as a head gamemaker, his creation was a bloodbath, a spectacle of violence and despair. He did a good job—an excellent one, even—and one of the greatest stars of today's celebration was him.

They needed to dress the part in clothes that exuded power. And so they did. Coriolanus's suit was ample—purple velvet with gold embroidery—the colour of Roman emperors. The colour of the winners. The suit hugged his broad shoulders perfectly, suiting his white hair. Gold cufflinks, gold rings—he looked like a sovereign among men. It was risky to do so right in front of the current president, but who was Coriolanus Snow if he was not confident in his success?

YN wore the gown from the matching collection, a floor-length masterpiece. The deep purple colour was a stark contrast to her skin tone. And jewellery, of course—she came from the Fabius family for a reason. The lavender diamonds on her necklace and earrings. They were rare—the rarest—even. Only a few violet diamonds have been mined in the past seventy years.

It was all anyone talked about behind their backs. Whispers, rumours, and so much venom dripped from the mouths of Panem's elite—that's what they were hoping for, anyway. The Snows were just as shamelessly rich as they were powerful.

That's why they now sat at the President's table, just a few faces away from them. Coriolanus smiled to himself - not even the President's wife could compare to YN. Not in fashion, not in elegance. He had an impeccable taste - even a person far away from politics could see that.

''A toast!'' the President stood up with a glass in his hand, turning to face the Coriolanus. ''I am sure many of you know who was the mastermind behind the games this year - it's my pleasure to introduce Coriolanus Snow to those of you who don't. However, not many know his story of success. From a dirt-poor background, when his greatest possession was his family name, he worked hard to achieve the position he holds today. Let us raise our glasses and celebrate his remarkable journey to success and the country of Panem - the land of opportunity!''

YN cursed under her breath as she listened to the crowd cheer for her husband. He remained stoic - the only thing that gave away his fury was his eyes - they grew as dark as the sky outside. She didn't bother to calm him - this fire was impossible to put out. The President made a fatal mistake with his speech - she knows. But the true fear crept into her heart when she saw the President's wife pass Coriolanus the dish.

Cabbage.

Under a fancy sauce, it could be transformed into a delicacy fit for their circle. But tonight, it was his last straw. The colours changed on the face of Coriolanus, from white to all shades of red. His fists clenched, and veins pulsed on his temples. The room fell silent as they observed.

''Oh, I am so sorry,'' YN chipped in. Quick, something. ''I have a terrible allergy to cabbage.''

The President's wife looked concerned. ''Oh, I didn't know.''

YN made her eyes water, throwing a coughing feat for more dramatic effect. ''I think I need to step outside for some fresh air."

She felt a warm hand on her back. ''Let me accompany you, just to make sure you're alright." her husband announced, carefully leading her towards the exit.

The first thing he did when they reached the women's bathroom was break the mirrors in a fit of anger. Shards of glass scattered across the floor as he paced around the room like a caged animal. YN watched as shouted and hit the walls, sitting on the bathroom floor. Beautiful one - the tile was a lovely shade of pink, contrasting with the chaos unfolding before her.

After a good few minutes, he finally calmed down and sank to the floor beside her, his face buried in his hands. Her husband, her hauntingly beautiful, pathetic husband - oh, what a sight. He looked mad, maniac, even; his blonde hair was far from its usual perfectly styled form, falling on his tear-stained cheeks.

"What do you think of me?"

His voice is hoarse, a few notes down from a honey-like. She likes it better, YN thinks - nothing of the fasçade he was trying so hard to uphold. No, just a raw hunger with a mix of equally raw despair.

"I think you are an animal, Coriolanus."

She smiles, watching his expression change. He suspected it, of course - her husband was a smart man. Still, he can't believe it - his head twitches in her direction, his gorgeous bottomless eyes shining under the weak light of the only surviving floor lamp.

"What?" he asks with such a loss in his voice YN has to fight the urge to bring him close. Not now, she thinks. It's not the time.

"A hungry, desperate, sick, sick animal with nothing to lose."

Coriolanus gets closer abruptly, clearly angered - she can't let him leave now. His arm shouts to find its place on her neck, long, slim fingers forming a circle around her throat. "You think I am after money, don't you?"

"No, no," a yelp escapes her lips, bordering a hysterical laugh. "Only fools are after money, Coriolanus, and you are no fool."

YN watches as he loses his grip a little, calmed by her words. What a pitiful, fascinating creature was her husband - one word of reassurance and he is willing to let thousands of cursings slide.

"What is it, then? What did you fantasize about in your small dull head?"

He still doesn't believe her. YN is surprised at how quickly it becomes boring.

"You want power."

Clap - the grip on her neck is tight again.

"That's why you choose the fear. People forget the hand that feeds them, but the one who beats? Never."

The frown on his face falls a little, and through the gritted teeth escapes something like a curse. "You talk an awful lot about me," he notes. "What are you hungry for?"

"You."

He laughs. That was a deep, chest laugh - YN thinks she never heard him laugh so sincerely. "You want my love? Don't lie to me, YN," he taunts, pressing a little harder on her neck.

"Not love. Love is easily swayed, is it not? No, I want you."

Coriolanus looks at her as if he never done so before. Well, he looked thousands of times, but he didn't see. His eyes study every expression in hers, every part of her face. "A hungry dog is not a loyal dog," he finally masters.

There is a certain silence after his words. YN gulps, desperatly trying to help her dried throat - the blood from his hands ran down her neck onto her exposed chest, leaving sticky, dark trails behind.

"Feed me, then."

He kisses her. He puts a force behind it, watching her hands fall on his chest for some kind of support. Coriolanus kisses her until there is no air in YN's chest anymore, and she has to push him away to take a rushed breath.

They were going to be just fine.

After all, they both never bet on losing dogs.

2K notes · View notes

toorurs · 18 days

Text

to last for an eternity

synopsis: to sunday, getting to know you has always been as natural as breathing, dreaming or lying. his life is built on lies. despite knowing that, you decide to stay with him, and sunday can't help but wonder why.

pairing: sunday x reader | wordcount: 2.2k | content & warnings: reader has dated men before (lol??), sunday’s like kinda insecure?, established relationship, reader and sunday share a bed, fluff and angst if you squint ; oneshot

a/n: i hate su**ay icl. well okay, i’m torn in-between liking and disliking him. ALSO HOW COME I WROTE SO MUCH?? i whipped this up yesterday and uh idk how to feel about this.

tags: @cherieiu this is for you... (ew), @azullumi (tell me if i should remove the tag 😭)

img credits: @/renjianshilian0 on x!

“how many men have you loved before me?”

his voice, despite being barely above a whisper, is audibly unsteady. the words are laced with utter care, so nimble that they'd shatter upon the quietest noise. breaking into a million transparent shards, each one, reflecting the uneasiness that lies hidden in the words that are wrapped up oh-so delicately.

the carefully chosen words are reluctant, they cut through the curtain of the deep endless night, like a knife slitting through a woman's throat, erupting into a loud scream. the action makes time stop.

ironically, the only sound that plays comes from the clock hand which is attached to the small clock that hangs on the perfectly white painted tapestry. sliding from one digit to another, ticking each time a minute passes.

to sunday it feels like an eternity until you finally respond. he's aware that you're not asleep, your breath is too uneven and from time to time your shoulders lightly tense up.

“why do you ask?” in the process of moving to turn yourself to his lying figure. you shift in the neatly arranged satin bed sheets, slightly creasing them upon moving. your eyes that were once glued to the ceiling, as they were focusing on the chandelier, were now fixated on sundays amber-like ones.

although the moon and the stars that light up the night sky are being hidden behind the curtains which shield the windows, his eyes glow like a dimly lit candle - existing as the only source of light that gleams in the dark room.

the dark orange rings that engulf his golden irises shine brighter than any heavenly body ever could. they don't even compare to his eyes - not in the slightest. they're the ones that'd guide you through any critical crisis that might occur in your life. the kind of eyes that pierce through a veil of flower tendrils , just like rose thorns. a pair of two jewel-like eyes that glitter beneath the sunlight, shimmering and shining as you hold them up against the star.

“is it deemed as morally wrong to ask your lover who else or how many people they've loved before?” he asks. amber eyes intently watching your every move. every breath that escapes your mouth, how your eyes quickly flicker from him, to the ceiling and then back to him and how your fingers fiddle with the shared duvet that is draped over your warm body.

he trusts you enough to not use his powers, but is it wrong to feel anxious? in every other case sunday wouldn't have even thought twice about the question. it's a simple question, that has a simple answer: a curt no. it's short but says enough, because what is there to be scared of? rejection, neglect or perhaps even punishment, is what the average person would answer.

but for sunday there's one thing he fears the most, the sole reason why he feels slightly anxious: the truth. the words that spill from your lips, drip like water. crystal clear without any interference from any other filthy or dirty source. they're raw and pure - unlike his words.

his whole being is built on lies. the words that fall from his lips are like raindrops. they fall easily, dripping quickly without seeming to stop - an end is nowhere near in sight. his rain drop like words build up on one another, one lie follows another. creating a puddle of lies.

“i presume not.” you murmur. “i was in a relationship with two people before you. they honestly didn't last long. i broke it off with them after a month or so?” you're actually not quite sure yourself. the memories of your previous relationships, the people you've dated before sunday, were blurry. as if they've never existed in the first place. the only thing you properly remember is getting to know them too quickly, entering a relationship too quickly and thus ending said relationship too quickly.

sunday is able to tell that you're not lying. your voice is steady, just like your breathing. he listens to your heartbeat. it's not acting up nor is it beating at a rapid speed. no, rather, it's quite slow. you're telling the truth. the one thing that inflicts more wounds to his heart than any physical injury could ever do.

honesty is a trait sunday wishes he'd possess. but perhaps, perhaps it was decided that ever since his birth he was destined to lie. to dirty his own words and his actions by adding a bit of deception. to spread falsehood, thus protecting himself from the cruel principles of the world.

he envies you for being able to tell the truth, to straight up pour out your heart without having to hide anything. he realizes that you trust him, entrusting him with a part of your life. on the other hand, he also envies you for being able to talk so calmly about your former relationships. there was a reason why you broke up with them, was there not? slight jealousy arises in him, staining his adulterated blood, with a feeling he, himself didn't know he could experience.

“and you?” your gentle voice made his ears perk up, snapping him out of his former haze. “huh?” he mutters out quietly, audible confusion in his voice. “how many women have you said i love you to before, darling?” your usage of the term of endearment makes his heart swell in pride. to know that he can consider himself as your lover is the greatest achievement in his life, as well as knowing that you too consider him as your lover.

nevertheless, the uneasiness that swims lostly in his blood, not knowing it's home, remains. he feels guilty. it's absurd to think about it, right? sunday, the man who has lied to the whole population of penacony, the planet of festivities ruled by none other than the aeon of harmony xipe, feels guilty.

“none”. his answer is frank. after all, it's the truth, there's nothing to lie about. if he had the offer to lie right now, he'd decline it right away. but sunday doesn't think he'd ever be able to lie to you, he's not in a condition nor state to do so. he could never bear to carry a lie within him, a lie that he made up just for you. he doesn't think he'd be able to carry such a burden. being chained to his own lies, like a dog to a leash.

“really?” you let out a laugh. “you're lying!” you giggle in-between your words. what's so funny about that? he's telling the truth. he's confused.

even if he tried to, tried to lie and trick you into falsehood. the truth would always reveal itself first. the lie wouldn't even have the time to exit his mouth because sunday knows that he could never lie to you. there's no purpose in doing so, because sunday knows that you'd figure him out right away. you're aware that he wouldn't and neither is able to lie to you. but why do you seem so surprised?

“i can assure you, my love. i’m not lying.” voice stern but soft.

“not even robin?” you tease.

“fine, except robin.” at that he can't help but let out a small laugh himself.

sunday is an insatiable man that is impossible to look through. his true nature, the intention behind his actions are unknown. they are yet to be discovered just like the deep sea. but even then, some of his beliefs, morals, feelings would be anchored to the wet sand that lies at the bottom of the ocean. all rustily bound to his fundamentals. a part that he will never reveal to anyone.

but to you, sunday is like an open book. the pages are filled to the brim. sometimes going over the margin, words that are full of liveliness, spilling tales that need to be told and shared. words that are sealed inside a simple book, but being hidden away in a dusty shelf, so that no one can grab it and take advantage of it.

until you came along. witnessing every part of the man's nature. his behavior, habits, thoughts. you're familiar with all of them, you know how cruel he can be. what kind of pain he inflicts on others. how awful him and his actions are, ending people's relationships, careers or even lives. you know all of that, but you decide to stay with him.

“i'm just surprised, that's all. i thought that you might have a person whom you hooked up with here and there.” without even having to look at you sunday knows that you're smiling. he studied your facial expression and your diction to associate them together. knowing how to love you, even if it meant to love you blindly. losing his ability to see but in exchange still knowing what you look like. (as beautiful as always)

“but i suppose i should've also expected the outcome that you didn't date anyone before either.” you add with a giggle. your hand inches closer to his, your touch is featherlight, and your fingertips dance across the back of his hand.

unlike you. you who knows everything about him from the early start to the very end. from a to z, from alpha to omega, from one to a number with infinity digits, that is endless and goes on forever. he on the other hand, feels like he still knows nothing about you. you remain a mystery to him.

sure, he knows your preferences. you hate overly sweet pastries but for some reason adore piquant food that tickles on the tongue after taking the first bite. he knows what your favorite season is: spring. because after the snow melts, spring arrives. your favorite book. a book that reminds you of your childhood, a tale that talks about two children lurking disorientedly in the woods, leaving a trail of pebbles to find their way back.

but is that really enough to say that you actually know someone? sunday shifts in the warm bed, god it's unbearably hot. has it always been this warm? he thinks it's because of you. he feels like he might melt under your intent watch. as he notices that he tears his gaze away from yours.

the question still haunts him. does he actually know you? perhaps it's enough to consider himself your lover but not a soulmate that knows everything about their other half. getting to know you and learning about your habits was always easy for sunday, it came just as natural as breathing or well lying. he enjoyed it. but he doesn't think that knowing these facts is enough for himself to say that he knows you.

because if he'd know you, he'd be able to figure out why you still stay with him. you're aware of his gruesome acts, how he dirties or in some cases even bloodies his hands and his words with lies. as he continues to wash them off with a charade. a theater play where he puts everyone into position and makes them play along. but despite knowing that you continue to stay with him. is it because you broke loose of the strings he's attached to your body? or is it perhaps because there were never strings attached to you in the first place.

“don't worry about my former relationships.” you hum in a low voice. “you're the one whom i love and nothing will change that.” your soft hands that were just toying with his fingers moved up to his cheek. planting them on each side and making him turn his head . “sunday, look at me.” he wants to protest and say that you leave him with no other choice but before he can do so, you butt in, speaking up first.

your dominant hand starts moving up to his forehead, moving away the bangs that were sticking onto his forehead, your other hand stays on his cheek, not moving an inch. “trust me. i don't think about my ex lovers anymore. i was surprised when you brought them up, that’s all. it was the first time i've ever thought about them again after the relationship ended.”

you gently comb through his hair, taking notice that it's unkempt, some knots have found their way into his hair. “so don't worry about it or them. i’m all yours, just like you're all mine.” you reassure him.

“they say, third time's the charm, right? so we'll make this relationship last. not only in the dreamscape but also reality, okay? i'll stay with you until till the end time, because i love you.”

once again sunday is envious of how easily the truth drips from your lips. you love him. you decide to stay with him because you love him. it's simple, but it's the truth. he wonders if loving him comes off as natural as him getting to know you. but perhaps that's a question for another time.

a question that is not-so-fitting for this starry night. but rather a question that should be asked during a new dawn. where your head pressed against his shoulder and he eulogizes you, which in response you can only laugh.

sunday isn't your first lover, no.

but he doesn't think he minds being your last lover, if it means that he'll get to have you till the end of your and his time.

sunday doesn't believe in fate, destiny or any major force. he's not even certain if the aeon of harmony, xipe, will grant him his wish. but he prays. he pleads that whoever listens to his prayers, does anything in their power, to make this relationship last. last for an eternity.

e/n: i cannot express my hatred for writing and editing on mobile. also sunday last day of the week, last lover?? does that make sense lol.

#toorurs #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff #sunday x reader #sunday fluff #hsr imagines #honkai star rail imagines #sunday headcanons #sunday imagines #sunday hsr #hsr headcanons

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lovehypegirl · 2 months

Text

DUTIFUL ADEPTUS

synopsis: you're the adeptus created by Morax to watch over Liyue alongside Adeptus Xiao in his absence. When he comes back in his mortal form, he makes sure to tell you to rest wc: 893 warnings!: none

Being an adeptus was nothing to scoff at. Especially if that adeptus was created by Morax himself

He created you in his image; flowing dark hair with golden tips, sharp golden eyes with a dragon-like glow, brown and golden horns, and the strength to subdue a hundred monsters at a time

He had created you from cor lapis for strength, a silk flower for elegance, and a glaze lilly for wisdom

You were created in the adult image and therefore had no childhood

Your days were spent training with Morax as he taught you the ways of martial prowess and of poetry, song, and story

He always taught you to remain sharp in all aspects of life Additionally, he set you to lead the Yakshas as you were the strongest

You spent your days among the other Yakshas and often found yourself receiving gifts of intricately embroidered Hanfu in varying shades of gold from Menogias

In fact, many temples that were erected in Liyue in your honor have art that depicts you wearing a golden Hanfu

Now, when Morax had to fight in the Archon War, you were left behind watching over the people of Liyue and defending them from such harm

This caused the people of Liyue to see you as a protector and they began to erect temples in your honor and give offerings which in turn, made you stronger

When the war ended, Morax went to rule Liyue from afar, visiting once a year on the rite of Descension

Xiao is a different story, after his fellow Yakshas died from their karma, he tended to distance himself and protect Liyue from afar

Your work was hard. You constantly circled the entirety of Liyue like the sun ensuring that no monsters approached the city, the temples dedicated to the adepti were not desecrated, visiting Cloud Retainer, Mountain Shaper, and Moon Carver

You also visited Ganyu on a weekly basis to ensure that she was doing well working among the humans, watching Gaming as he preformed his Wushou dances, looking out for YaoYao whenever you saw her wandering the wilds, bringing gifts for Shenhe, conversing with Ningguang, talking with Beidou at the wharf, and so on

Basically, you never had time for yourself and you became even more busy when the Traveler came to Liyue

When the whole fiasco was settled Morax or Zhongli came to visit you in your abode

It was the first time you had seen your master face to face for a proper cup of tea and a conversation

It felt like reuniting with a father

"My dear, how have you been?" he asked over the steaming cup of tea. The golden sandbearer trees swayed in the wind as Tubby bubbled in the background "I have been well master, Liyue prospers every day under my protection" you answer in a serious manner He sighed slightly and placed his gloved hand on top of yours "Have you been taking some time for yourself?" "I'm afraid I cannot, master. Even now I am restless." He smiled slightly and squeezed your hand"It is good that you always remain diligent but you must learn to rest" "As an adeptus I don't need to rest--" "You do. You will exhibit signs of mental strain, my dear. And you needn't worry. Xiao will always be there to look after Liyue. You do trust him do you not?" "I do but..." "Then you will have no problem leaving Liyue in his hands whilst you rest for a moment" he gave you a sincere smile "...Alright. As you say"

Zhongli finally convinces you to take some time for yourself and mingle with the people of Liyue in a bit of a disguised form

You retract your horns and change your Hanfu to sometime a little less God-like

You found it rather calming to walk among the people that you spend your days protecting

Both you and Xiao fell into a rhythm where you protect the areas surrounding the cities and villages and he deals with the remaining land

Sometimes you can find him on the roof of Wanshu in and he always sits up a little straighter when you approach with a plate of almond tofu

"Adeptus Xiao, how have you been?" you ask as you hand him a pair of chopsticks "...I've been well" he says shortly as he accepts them "Has Zhongli visited you recently? I've seen him around the harbor often" "He has" Xiao responded as he chewed on the almond tofu, he's never much of a talker "Are you attending this years Lantern Rite? Or will you watch from afar?" "I'll be watching from afar" "Then will you...release a kite with me? I know it may sound stupid...but it makes those little humans so happy...it must be quite enjoyable" you said as you munched on a bite of the almond tofu "...sure" you could've sworn he smiled a little

When you see Xiao outside the city, you take walks with him through the Huaguang Stone Forest or through Dihua Marsh

Sometimes you accompany him on the roof of Wangshu Inn and show him how to take pictures of the sunset with the Kamera

Once a month, Zhongli, Xiao, and You have a dinner together in your abode. Placing your trust in the humans to protect their own kind for the night

#hypegirlwhispers #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact #platonic zhongli x reader #platonic xiao x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #xiao #zhongli #zhongli x reader #xiao x reader

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comicaurora · 6 months

Text

tldr I committed to a bit too hard

The slow-dawning sunlight dappled down through dense, rich foliage, scattering golden lace across mossy trunks and grassy hillocks. The light caught on the forest floor in a thousand glassy dewdrops and bent, fisheyed, in globed inversions of the canopy above.

No breeze stirred the forest so early in the morning, but a thin mist gathered in the valley under the warming air. Sunbeams lanced through the fog, pale in the dawn but soon to brighten and intensify. For now, the air was damp and cool and still, and the scent of the night lingered.

Pip bent a pawful of grass to the side and sniffed the air suspiciously.

It was too quiet, too still. And with no wind, she couldn't mark the position of the strange beasts and their odd, dusty, acrid scent that had no place in these woods. It hung low and directionless over the peaceful morning, distant but permeating, like a faraway fire.

She adjusted her backslung blade, wrapped her cloak closer around her and dropped onto all fours, nose pointed straight ahead and whiskers standing at attention. Her dusty green-gray wrap would shield her from all but the most attentive prying eyes, and - she quirked an ear, just to be sure of the silence - most of the forest was still asleep, unlikely to mark her passage.

She managed to stifle a flinch as a sound that wasn't a sound bypassed her ears and rang straight into her head.

Pip? Where'd you go?

She exhaled softly through her nose, the barest expression of frustration she allowed herself.

Scouting, Alder. Go back to sleep.

She set off before he could reply, scurrying silently along the mossy forest floor, tracing a sinuous route through the canopy's shadow to stay out of the slow-brightening sunbeams.

Scouting?!

The thought squeaked with disbelief. She didn't answer it.

Alder never had fewer than three thoughts at a time, and the more agitated he became, the harder they became to sort through. A jumble rang in her skull, a snatch of Eldest told us- and moves like thunder and have to hide, that last one echoing in six different ways with the significance it held in his mind. She concentrated on tracing her silent route, one shadow to the next, and came to a stop under a broad-leafed stalk as Alder's distress built to a crescendo.

If she kept moving, eventually she'd slip out of his range. Wasn't that a tempting thought.

I said go back to sleep, she sent, and with an afterthought of inexpert kindness, added I'm being careful. It'll be fine.

The chattering ground to a halt, and she felt the effort it took him to focus his thoughts down to a single thread. Come back, Pip. We have to stay hidden until they're all gone.

We can't hide if we don't know where they are.

Pip caught the beginning of his protest and shook herself violently, breaking off the connection. It was rude, she knew; closing her mind completely was one of her rarer talents, but unlike her other oddities, this one she wasn't particularly respected for. Her skills as a scout were admired precisely because she had such sharp senses, physical and mental both - some days she could even hear the slow, tangled thoughts of the Long Shadows - but when she didn't want to be disturbed, she could wall herself off from the others as thoroughly as if she'd been on the other side of the forest.

And right now, picking her way between treetrunks and sniffing her way towards the bizarre menagerie that had invaded her forest, the last thing she wanted was to be disturbed.

Her right forepaw sank in unexpectedly soft soil, and she recoiled with a stifled gasp. Her eyes darted across the swath of ground, analyzing its shape - and then she widened her scope, scanning the yards beyond that first strange softness. In a low-lying, hollowed track between two thick-rooted trees, the carpet of grass and flowers were flattened and crushed into a felted mat, mud bubbling through it in irregular patches like sickness in a wound. A wide track had been beaten into the soil by dozens - at least dozens, she amended - of flat-pawed creatures. Their dusty, acrid stink lay heavily over it.

She drew back from the unnaturally soft soil. Even with her diminutive size and weight, there was the risk of getting mired in unexpectedly watery ground, and while rescue was never far away in these woods, she certainly didn't want to weather Alder's overconcern or Eldest Luma's quietly smug passivity. Instead she skirted towards a point where the track narrowed, lashed her tail for a momentary burst in balance, then sprang over the mud and latched onto a tree root on the other side, freshly ripped free from the soil and scored with dozens of thin scars from the claws of the marching creatures. She scurried up and settled at the tree's base, where the gnarled roots tangled into a more-than-sturdy foothold overhanging the morass.

With the newfound advantage of height, she surveyed the terrain. The tracks overlapped one another in a mad scramble, pouring up from the lowland forest and curving up and away.

They moved with surprising organization for such motley creatures. She counted at least four very different sizes of print in the track, some barely longer than her own body (nose to the base of her tail) while some were large enough to crush her underfoot without even noticing.

The tracks were only a few hours old. The swarm must have passed in the early pre-dawn. She strained her memory to try and recall if she'd felt any tremors from down in the sleep-halls of the hollow, but if she were honest with herself, they were too far down and too well-insulated by the soft soil walls to have marked their passage.

She turned her attention to where the trail vanished from sight, curving over and up the slope. The land in that direction was treacherous and, to the mind of her people, best avoided. Gravel slips and rain rivulets ran down between the massive plates of rock that jutted out of the soil, and even though trees and flowers overgrew them, their roots could not be trusted to hold the ground together enough for safe passage of one of her size. Fresh rainfall unearthed and dislodged glassy chips of stone, and the soil turned to mud and slipped between the boulders, exposing treacherous chasms that could swallow an unwary traveler. The shattered earth built up and up until it abruptly skewed and slanted down in a gentle curve, like the ground had been struck with a terrible force and the shattering had rippled out from the center. And in the heart of that broken land, glimpsed fearfully from treetops or the shadow of the stones, lay the stronghold of the Long Shadows.

Once, long redmoons ago, Pip had traveled three days and nights to scale the shattered peaks herself, to see the stronghold with her own eyes (mostly due to a burst of rebellious curiosity after a scolding from Eldest Luma). The works of the Long Shadows could always be distinguished from natural formations or nests - they had a love of smooth things, and the stone they shaped stretched cleanly skyward and bore no footholds beyond the straight, geometric fissures that ran up and through them. So Pip already knew that the stronghold was encircled by a massive shadowcrafted cliff, pale and smooth as ice and taller than trees, and it surrounded the entire stronghold just behind the shattered peaks. Beyond the wall, great columns and cliffs jutted skyward, more smooth handicraft of the Long Shadows. At times they were even spotted outside the walls, tending great swaths of land in the same precise straight lines they shaped their stone. Those tracts bore vast quantities of food in unnatural abundance, some that grew nowhere else in the valley, but the Long Shadows guarded them closely and harshly punished intrusion, and the Eldest three generations before Luma had forbade anyone from entering (or even approaching) their strange geometric works, no matter how lean the winters became.

She debated following the trail. It would inexorably lead her towards the stronghold, but if the creatures were focused solely on the Long Shadows, that was valuable information to bring back to the hollow. No doubt Eldest Luma would be pleased to have yet another reason to avoid the Long Shadows and their works.

A sudden awareness prickled in the small of Pip's back, shivering up into her ears and all the way down to the tip of her tail. Her gray fur bristled and she froze, eyes darting wildly, seeking the source. The feeling had no obvious impetus, but she trusted her tail with her life, and something was happening. Something sourceless, something…

At the base of the root she was balanced on, a sprout punctured the trodden soil and curled upwards, splitting into pairs of pale green leaves. She watched as it climbed to twice her height in less than three beats of her racing heart.

Instinct took over. She scampered up the tree like a shot, finding footholds in the bark with a practiced ease that belied her jolting terror. She plunged into the safety of the leafshadow and clung to a branch, breathing fast and shallow and trying very hard to stay quiet.

Below her, a green carpet spread across the mire as grass and flowers bloomed impossibly fast.

The Weeping Shadow was approaching.

Pip strained her ears and caught the hint of a whisper of movement through the grass, distant and soft but certainly coming closer. It was pointless to cast her eyes towards the darkness - The Weeping Shadow was, in the stories, always swathed in gray, near invisible in the shadow of the canopy, and it passed in many tales without a trace, save for its flowering footsteps as its passage drove the forest to frenzy.

But it never came so close to the stronghold. The Weeping Shadow's domain was the deep and tangled woods, much further into the valley than even the hollow. It haunted the river and the wild places, and its realm was thick with plants of impossible vitality and sweetness - but not even the bravest scout dared its domain, even when hunger was rampant. The fruits of the Weeping Shadow's realm were steeped in an absolute sorrow whose depth defied comprehension, and the slow pulse of its thoughts churned in dark and wrenching misery that could be heard across half the valley. It was too much for the mind to take for long, and scouts that had strayed into its influence took moons to recover from the borrowed grief.

That had been the prickling on Pip's neck. The slow approach of the Weeping Shadow was already casting a pallor on her mind - and it was getting closer.

Pip's thoughts scrambled for her next move. If she stayed hidden, the Weeping Shadow would pass nearer to her than anyone had ever dared. She flattened her ears against her head and focused on the walls around her mind. Could she close herself to it strongly enough to hold out?

A wild fear beat against her ribs. She wanted to stay clinging to this branch forever, but she also wanted to bolt, to sprint the length of the branch and fling herself into open space, trusting the soft soil to cushion her fall - or rather, if she were honest with herself in that moment, heedless of what the fall might do to her. The desperate urge to flee was strong in her people, and here, faced with a terror closer than ever before, it was nigh overwhelming.

But Pip had a third instinct that overruled all others when she allowed it, and it had been slowly growing in her mind ever since she'd slipped from the hollow before the dawn. It was a hunger, of a sort, and one that warred always with fear. The hunger was curiosity, a thrumming urge for exploration and understanding that spurred her on through peril and dark for the promise of clarity on the other side.

The beasts in her forest were descending on the stronghold, and their passage had stirred the Weeping Shadow from its domain. Something was happening - something vast, something perhaps unknowable. But it would certainly stay unknowable if she didn't even try to know it.

And perhaps the Weeping Shadow knew.

Pip had more control than most over the openness of her mind. It alarmed her peers, sometimes, that she could pass among them in silence, unreceptive to their soundless speech. It unnerved them more, for those who knew - from a time when she was more open with her secrets and her strangeness - that she could at times hear the deep thoughts of the Long Shadows, and stranger still, sometimes even catch a shred of their meaning. The idea that the minds of the Long Shadows could in any way compare to the bright, clear thoughts of her people was on the surface laughable, and just under that surface, frightening. Still, she knew it was true. Their minds were dark, slow places, but they contained meaning and knowledge, most beyond the reckoning of her kind.

The mind of the Weeping Shadow was an abyss of grief and sorrow, but if she could attune her senses to it - if she could withstand its pressure - she could, perhaps, glean its purpose in the shattered peaks, and what it knew of the creatures that she pursued.

The underbrush cracked. Pip flattened herself against the branch and peered intently at the sound as the rolling wave of green spread under the tree, blanketing in every direction.

A shape moved in the shadow of the trees, ponderous and slow.

Pip felt her eyes grow hot and stinging, the space behind them heavy with unshed tears. A borrowed bottomless grief encroached on the walls of her mind, lapping at it like a swelling river threatening its banks.

The Weeping Shadow broke from the treeline and stepped forward.

It towered, even from Pip's high vantage point. It was gray and still and almost shapeless in the dim of the canopy, but twin lights glimmered near its summit, pale green like the sprouts boiling at its feet.

Pip's head pounded. The pressure of its presence was terrible. It was vast, yes, but the power of the sorrow within it seemed vaster still - like all the forest around it was desperate to weep, and the Shadow was the only part of it that could, yet it refused to.

The Shadow tilted its head down, and the lights of its eyes vanished in the gloom. But it was not weeping, Pip knew. It was… looking.

Looking at the tracks under its carpet of grass.

Pip gritted her teeth, gripped the branch, and opened her mind.

It was gentler than she had anticipated. The pressure and power was indescribable, but once she stopped trying to push it back, she found it moved her rather like water would - with force, but without pain. It was almost easy to let the thoughts of this vast creature buffet her where they would.

The words in the Weeping Shadow's mind were unknown to her, but she felt a snatch of them repeating over and over again. The words mattered less than the feeling that drove them, and as she focused, she realized that the Weeping Shadow was, in some way, at war with itself; the thoughts were not all in agreement. The repetition smelled of deep, old terror, but its loop was broken over and over again by a different, newer thought - one that Pip herself was intimately familiar with, strong enough that she needed no translation to parse it:

But I can help.

Dimly, in her faraway body, she felt tears pouring from her, hot and desperate from a grief she couldn't fathom. Her claws gripped the bark of the branch. The Weeping Shadow's thoughts, at the moment, were focused on its inner war, but it did nothing to shield Pip from the substrate of its misery. Still, she was onto something. If she could just push through, she might learn what the Weeping Shadow understood of the intruders to their forest.

Pip dug deeper. The Weeping Shadow knew what these creatures were - knew what they intended - believed it could help in some way - but what did it know of them?

Running below the looping dread and the punctuating bursts of hope, Pip glimpsed a glimmering ribbon of understanding wending its way just below the Weeping Shadow's conscious thought. It snaked under the fear, coiled around the thought of help. This had to be the knowledge that had motivated the Weeping Shadow's unheard-of migration. This was the mystery of the creatures answered.

This, perhaps, was Pip's only mistake. As she caught the thread of that understanding, it abruptly yanked against the current and plunged her down, down, down into the icy depth of the Weeping Shadow's truest misery. Its knowledge of these creatures came from the same bone-deep wellspring as the torrent of tears, and Pip screamed aloud as it battered her mind full-force. Alien thoughts crashed against her, unbearably loud; the grinding of bone, the shifting of stone, the pounding of waves greater than any river, the splintering of mighty trees. A twisting, a breaking - a power like a maddened, wild animal, thrashing and uncontrollable, kept in check only by its own terrible exhaustion and grief. She was so, so small, and somehow in the depths of this vastness she was even further diminished, crushed to a single point of light-

And something was watching her.

With a last mighty burst of willpower she released the thought-thread, flung herself away, and tumbled off the branch. It was something of a mercy that she was too stunned to feel the impact, and the carpet of seedlings cushioned her fall.

The first thing she became aware of was her breathing, high and fast and shallow in time with her racing heartbeat, real panic and borrowed sorrow draining away with shocking rapidity. Second, she felt the pain; her head pounding with spent exhaustion, her paws cramped in every joint, her back and shoulders bruised from where the impact of the fall had driven her scabbarded blade against her spine.

The third thing she became aware of was the shadow stretching towards her, claws stretched as long as her whole body, the deep purple of the skies after dusk.

The Weeping Shadow loomed over her, vaster than mountains. Two points of green pierced out from the dark.

She ran.

#aurora #prose writing #look. I have no explanation #well no I do have an explanation #and I'm curious if this makes literally any sense to anyone but me #but I had fun and that's what counts #pip's fine I have plenty more ideas for her

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aphrogeneias · 2 months

Note

Rockstar Eddie sending assistant reader secret admirer flowers maybe? Maybe it’s when they’re not touring, back in town for a bit.

Idk if that’s the vibe or not but I think it goes with the secret romance vibes

-💛

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x assistant!reader

warnings: yearning. a ton of yearning. tooth-rotting fluff.

You'd never been one to be sad on Valentine's Day.

If you weren't already in a relationship, you were working too much to even think about it. Life on the road didn't give you the luxury of going all out on holidays, for the most part.

It made you happy, though. To see everyone in the crew calling their girlfriends and wives, planning dates for when they see each other next, sending them a letter in the mail, signed with all their love.

To see Rick, the perpetual bachelor, go on dates with a different woman every year, swearing he's ready to settle down this time. He'd ask you about yourself, “A nice girl like you doesn't have a date on Valentine's? I don't believe you, honey.”

You would tell him the same thing every time. “Worry about yourself, Rick. You're not getting any younger.”

If anyone else asked, you'd just say you were too busy. Too busy taking care of other people, seeing the country, looking for yourself in the process — and you always meant it.

This year, however, it had you slumping around the house, wrapped in a warm blanket and roaming your own home like a ghost. You were there physically, but your heart was somewhere in a small town in the Midwest, visiting his family before the next leg of the tour.

Selfishly, you wanted him here. You almost asked him to come with you, but you knew how much he missed home, with the way he'd been counting the days to see his uncle, his friends, and who were you to take that from him?

The longing took hold of your heart anyway, squeezing it tight in your chest, as you curled into yourself on your couch, not really paying attention to the romantic comedy playing on your TV set. It rained outside, the pitter-patter against your windows almost lulling you into sleep.

You pictured him there, wrapped around you on the couch. His warmth enveloping you, arms tight around you. In your kitchen, making coffee, helping you bake, washing the dishes. In your bed, messing up your sheets. His laughter booming across the walls, his whispers in your ear.

A golden halo around his wild brown curls. Your Sun, your Star.

A knock on your front door brought you back to reality.

Groaning, you stood, taking the blanket with you as a cape, dragging behind you as you crossed the living room. When you opened the door, there was a soaked delivery boy waiting for you, but he wasn't the first thing you saw.

In front of him, there was a bouquet of roses. A dozen, half of them red, half of them black, wrapped in brown paper, and tied with a pristine white bow. Dazed, you almost didn't hear the boy call your name, and last name, before asking to sign the paper on his clipboard.

“Who… Do you know who sent them?” You asked, giving him back his ballpoint pen.

“They're not signed. Have a good day, miss!”

As he left, and your door seemed to close itself behind you, the first thing you did was reach for your phone.

With your flowers still in hand, clutched to your chest, and the receiver on the other, you dialed the phone you had memorized, but rarely used. The one that was slipped into your back pocket by a heavily ringed hand, one you were told to call if you felt lonely.

Now was as good a time as any.

The gruff voice that answers after a few rings was not his. “Hello?”

“Wayne? Uh, this is…”

“Oh, I know exactly who this is. I was expecting you'd call.”

“Were you?”

The older man chuckled on the other side of the line. “The boy’s been talking about you all day, but he didn't want to call. Said you'd be too busy to sorry about his sorry ass. Figured it wasn't true, but you know how stubborn he is.”

“That he is.” You agreed, and there's an exchange you can't quite figure out at the other end. The phone rattled a bit, and a voice saying “your girl’s on the phone” came through, followed by more rattling.

“I'll let you go, kid. Happy Valentine's Day, there's someone who's desperate to talk to you.”

Without being able to help yourself, giddiness rising through your chest like butterflies, you giggled. “Happy Valentine's, Wayne.”

The next person to talk to you sounded a bit breathless. “Hey, sweetheart.”

The hand that was holding your heart tight let it go, and let it soar through your kitchen, as if it grew cartoon-esque wings. “Hey, Eddie. Do you, perhaps, know if I happen to have a secret admirer, I got these beautiful flowers but sadly, no note.”

“Oh, I don't know. You must steal hearts wherever you go, could be anyone.”

You could hear the smirk on his lips, practically feel his stare across the line. “Aw, that's a shame. I was thinking of returning the favor, but maybe he doesn't like me enough to make himself known.”

“Maybe he likes you enough to keep it a secret, who knows who else might be listening.”

With a sigh, your understanding came through without any more words needing to be said. It laid thick in the air. “I miss you."

“I miss you too. Did you like them?”

“I love them.” You answered immediately, simply. Maybe it was time to be sincere. “I'd love having you here more, though.”

“Baby, you're getting sick of me next time I see you, just you wait. The flowers are more of an early apology.”

“A threat, more like it.”

There it was, the laugh you loved more than anything. “Yeah. A threat, whatever you want to call it.”

“Promise me, then?”

Biting your lips in anticipation, you waited for his reply. Eddie’s voice came heavy with meaning, “I promise.”

Your heart and the cartoon wings that carry it through your ceiling spinned, and spinned, and spinned.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #nothing else matters

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dark-and-kawaii · 4 months

Note

your pregnancy ficlets are super sweet! How about Halsin finding out tav is pregnant 🥰

Halsin would/does make the best dad. When he was worried about the kids not getting a bedtime story from him I wanted to cry. I go feral for big ol’ guys with a soft heart, and he’s like the poster man for that.

༺ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐥 ༻

♡ Halsin | Pregnancy - Fluff

In the midst of a small flower field, bathed in the golden rays of the sun, you sat in the forest. Halsin, in his bear form, approaches you silently, attempting to surprise you. But as always, you are keenly aware of his presence. Chuckling softly to yourself you continue plucking a pink flower, and with a playful tone you remark, "You'd have better luck sneaking up on me if you were a cat, you know."

Halsin nudges your back gently with his large furry head, emitting a low, affectionate grunt as he settles down beside you. Resting against his solid form, you're enveloped in a unique comfort only he can provide, afterall, it’s not everyday someone gets with a bear. Twirling the flower wreath you've been weaving, you muse, "I'm considering changing these to yellow blossoms, what do you think?" You glance at him, your look soft and affectionate as he cocks his head, ears perked, you know his bearish confusion was a silent compliment to your creation.

Your laughter is light as your fingers trace the fur between his eyes. "Yellow's quite the neutral choice," Halsin watches you, his gaze intent, absorbing every word you speak, “Hmm, or maybe I should do white instead, but that’s just- no. That’s a terrible idea.” He continues to listen, studying your expression intently, as if trying to decipher the message behind your words.

“If it's a boy," you continue, your eyes lingering on the wreath, "I don't think he'd appreciate all these shades of pink." Your gaze meets Halsin's, a playful glimmer in your eyes. "And if it's a girl, well, pink seems to be the only answer. But how am I supposed to know? I'm no seer." You raise an eyebrow, your eyes searching his face. Suddenly, his wide brown eyes illuminate, and in a burst of radiant energy, Halsin stands before you, transformed back into his glorious elven body. "Is it true? You spoke of the truth just now?" he asks, his voice filled with awe and excitement.

Joining him in standing, a smile spreads across your face, and you nod, uttering the words he longed to hear, "It's true, my love." Unable to contain his joy, Halsin bursts into laughter, engulfing you in his arms as he spins you around, expressing his elation in that moment of pure bliss.

Halsin's laughter fills the forest as he spins you around, his joy palpable in the warm embrace. "By the Great Oak Father!" he exclaims, his eyes shining with happiness. You both come to a stop, and Halsin cups your face in his hands, his expression overflowing with love. "Our love, our bond, will be forever sealed in this precious life."

The forest and flowers around you seemed to come alive with vibrant colors, the gentle breeze carrying the sweet scent of the blooms. It feels as if though nature is celebrating alongside you.

As the initial rush of excitement settles, Halsin lowers himself to one knee, holding your hand close to him. "My heart, I promise to be there for you and our child every step of the way. I will protect and cherish both of you with all that I am."

Tears of joy well up in your eyes as you meet his gaze. "And I promise to stand by your side, Halsin, as I always have.”

Halsin's grin widens as he rises from his knee, his eyes never leaving yours. "I have no doubt that we will raise a child who embodies both the strength of the wild and the wisdom of the druids. They will be surrounded by love, nature, and the embrace of the elements."

With hearts filled with excitement and anticipation, you and Halsin spend the rest of the day in the forest, basking in the joy of your upcoming journey as parents. As the sun sets, casting a mesmerizing glow across the landscape, you can't help but feel an incredible sense of gratitude for the life growing within you and the love that binds you both together.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #Halsin #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #bg3 halsin #tw.pregnancy

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

A special sort of craving 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: A stranger appears at your cafe and leaves you unsettled.

Part of the Backwood AU

Note: I found this in my docs and then I was like this could be an AU and people will hate me but here we are. I am heavily considering adding at least one other character to the AU bc I have an idea I don't think i'll ever get to full length with.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

He doesn’t belong. Not in this sleepy village. You can tell by the ring on his pinky, a golden signet that boasts of wealth not known to the farmers and lumberers of the desolate locale. His cheeks are red as if he didn’t expect the crisp autumn bite, though his jacket is unzipped to his chest, revealing a golf shirt with some designer logo sewn into the collar.

He tilts his head as he considers the glass display with shelves of bite-sized tarts and fragrant pies. You approach the other side, standing on tiptoes to see over it. His eyes slowly rise with your movement, a dimple in his cheek of amusement. You skirt around to the side of the display and lean over the lower counter so he can see you.

“Hello, you looking for something in particular?” you ask.

“Something sweet,” he answers, his crooked grin lingers as he lets his gaze wander back to the pies, “cherry… it’s been a while since I had a nice, juicy cherry pie.”

He licks his lips with the last word, reaching up to brush his fingertips over his bristly mustache. Your smile threatens to falter but you keep it on. He definitely isn’t from around here. Not with his accent or the hair slicked back so neatly.

“You want a slice?” you ask brightly. “Two bucks for a slice, twelve for the whole thing.”

“Hmm?” he raises a brow and sidles over to stand across from you.

“The pie,” you say as he puts a hand on the counter, leaning in as his other rests on his hip, “did you want some?”

His eyes fall down to the top of your apron, the red and white checker distracting him as you mindlessly flick the frill around the skirt. His smirk blooms fully and he stands straight.

“Wouldn’t mind a slice… of the pie,” he says as if it’s some joke. You don’t get it.

“Sure,” you say as you go behind the display and take out the cherry pie. You take it to the metal table behind you as you hear him, sense him looming along the counter. “You want anything to drink, sir? Some milk? Tea? Coffee? We do a combo for three-fifty.”

“Mm-mm-mm, a nice glass of milk would go nice with the pie,” he purrs, “they usually got you working all alone, sweetness?”

You look over your shoulder as you shovel a slice onto a plate, little flowers painted around the waffled trim.

“It’s my shop,” you say as you take the dish and grab a fork from the tray. You place it beside the till and type in the total, “cash or card, sir?”

“You own all this?” he leans his elbows on the counter, bent at the waist as he looks up at you.

“Sir,” you nod.

“Card,” he stands and stretches his arms over him before he drops his hands, poking his fingers in his back pocket.

“I’ll get that milk,” you say as he swipes his card, “and I’ll bring this over to you if you wanna sit.”

“Ah, table service, I like it,” he says as the machine chirps and accepts his payment, “you country folk are all so… nice, aren’t you?”

“Suppose,” you say as you open the fridge and take out a small carton.

You glance over as he tucks away his wallet. He winks and walks away. He drapes his jacket over the chair by the window as you grab a glass and hurry over to the counter. You place the glass and carton on his table as he sits. You go back to the counter and bring him the pie.

“You visiting someone?” you ask curiously.

He looks at you pointedly. You hesitate. You forget that the city slickers don’t like questions, but everyone in the village knows each other, so your habit has you careless.

“Bought some house called ‘The Grove’,” he answers as he pushes the fork through the braided crust, “apparently it’s a big deal.”

“The Grove?” you can’t help your surprise, “wow.”

He scoffs, hardly amused, and slides the fork into his mouth, sucking off the pie as he watches you. He chews and swallows slowly as he hovers the silver over the oozing pie.

“You know it?”

“It’s pretty far out,” you say, “but yeah, everyone knows The Grove.”

“Sure,” he pokes a cherry so the juice leaks out, “this is good pie. You make all these?”

“It’s my recipe, but I think Melinda did that one.”

“Don’t get good home cooking like this in the city,” he plops the cherry in his mouth and his jaw tenses with the tartness, he hums in satisfaction. He looks you up and down once more, “don’t get that personal touch.”

“I’m glad you like it, I’ll let Melinda know,” you push your hands into the large pockets of your apron, a movement that further catches his attention.

“Sounds good, cupcake,” he opens the carton and pours the milk into the glass, “you do delivery?”

“Sundays,” you answer, “not that we get many requests but…”

“Personal deliveries,” he insists, “like you said, house is far away, and I’m new in town. Wouldn’t mind a familiar face and a nice pie.”

You rub your neck, “well I don’t usually do the deliveries.”

“Melinda?” he prompts.

“No, Terry takes them with the lumber.”

“Mm,” he frowns, “right… guess I’ll just make the trip in.”

“Okay,” you nod, “let me know if ya need anything else.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” he slithers as you slowly turn away.

You feel him watching you as you try to hide behind the counter. You take a cloth and the cleaner and start wiping down the back of the display. You hear the clink of his fork against the plate.

City people are always a bit odd, but he gives you a bad feeling.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble #series #au #backwoods au #the gray man #a special sort of craving

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salford-blues · 2 months

Text

Flowers follow

A/n: Think I might have to switch some things up. I only write smau's. Do you guys reckon I should write actual stories? I've never done it before, but I can certainly try. Pairing: F1 mystery driver x driver!reader Summary: Reader continues to soft launch her mystery man... through flowers?? (basic ass summary cause I'm bobbins at them) Warnings: like one swear word

@yourusername posted on their story

caption: I love you a lily more every day

Replies to story

liamlawson30 disgusting caption. You should be ashamed of yourself

alex_albon I know who it isssss

> yourusername who snitched?

>> alex_albon my lips are sealed

>>> yourusername count your days Albon

user.1 tell us your mystery man... please im begging

landonorris WHO IS YOUR MANNNN?? Why won't you tell me? Are we not besties?

> yourusername because you can't keep secrets to save your life

@yourusername

oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, georgerussell63 & others liked

''April showers may bring May flowers, but you bring me flowers year-round''

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liamlawson30 whats with the corny captions lately

> yourusername you love them bc you love me

>> liamlawson30 no, I tolerate you

>> yourusername meanie :((

User.2 is mystery man Liam??

> User.3 I don't think so. They're just friends. Plus I don't think Liam rides a motorbike

User.4 Look at our girlie goooo!!

User.5 Lord... it's me again 🙏

@f1driverupdates

liamlawson30, mickschumacher & 240,000 others liked

Rumour has it that our golden girl is now off the market. But the question remains... who has taken her? Still in her soft launch era, @yourusername has not shared that much information about her partner.

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user.6 can't believe someones stole my girl

user.7 We can see you Mick... 👀

user.8 Is Mick our mystery man? I men it checks out... tall and rides a motorcycle. Also seems like a person that is very caring to her and her pets

> user.9 omg imagine little Angie added to that madhouse!! So cutteee 🥰

@yourusername

oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris & others liked

In the garden of love, you are my favourite sunflower!! 🌻

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User.8 Love how he gave you crocheted ones so that they last forever

> yourusername he's so sweet!! Especially since they're my favourite flower as well

User.9 Just tell us already... I'm done waiting

liamlawson30 cool story bro, didn't ask

> yourusername rude. I'll make sure to beat your arse in monopoly next games night

>> liamlawson30 😔 noted

@yourusername

mickschumacher, danielricciardo, charles_leclerc & others liked

Guess what I said??

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alex_albon what is this? when was this? Message me back Y/n

liamlawson30 Pick up the phone Y/n!!! I need answers

user.10 noooooooo... we've lost her

user.11 you said no, right?? pls don't join the dark side 🥲

oscarpiastri I hope that's fake

> yourusername maybe it is, maybe it isn't... but hey i still said yessss

>> logansargeant yeah well me and Oscar are gonna have a little word with him when we see him next

>>> liamlawson30 me three

>>>> danielricciardo me four

>>>>> yourusername oh leave him be. You all know he's nice and takes care of me.

landonorris ????

User.12 ignore the last slide... look at the kitty 🐈 😻

> yourusername main character moment for him. He's the only one that likes the rides 🫶

#f1 fanfic #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x female reader #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 11 days

Note

Can I request some Bachelor/Bachelorett's of your choice asking the farmer to be their partner at the flower dance? It'd be cute if they could ask us instead of the farmer always taking the initiative

Bachelors/ettes of my choice? Hmm, since it's my choice here, I've chosen.... All SDV marriage candidate :D

Thanks for the ask, dear anon! Enjoy! 🫰💕

_________________________________________

SDV bachelors/ettes asking Farmer to be their dance partner at the Flower Dance:

SDV bachelors:

Alex:

Alex tries to make Farmer's question sound casual.

Something like, "Hey, I'd like to ask you to be my dance partner, but if you say no, that's okay, it won't hurt me in any way."

(He can't fool himself, It will make him sad if Farmer says no).

So the athlete almost jumped up on the spot with joy when Farmer agreed. But he tried to play it cool.

"So, shall we go and take our place on the dance floor?"

Alex was so happy, and started to get a little nervous not to mess it up.

Elliott:

"Farmer, my friend! I've been preparing for this celebration for a couple of days now, and I would be immensely happy if you would honoring me of agreeing to be my dance partner."

Elliott hopes the invitation wasn't too pompous. Otherwise, the writer was already worried he'd ruined everything.

Maybe Farmer already had a partner and Elliott with his speech made them feel pressured and awkward?

But Farmer's smile and nod of agreement said otherwise.

"Really? Oh, delightful! Then let's go rehearse our moves before the festival starts." Words can't describe how happy Elliott is.

Sebastian:

Because Sebastian doesn't really like dancing in public, asking someone to dance is a big step for him.

No, for real. Farmer must be a very dear friend to him (or maybe something more), if the local emo stepped out of his comfort zone to ask them to dance.

And his efforts paid off - Farmer agreed without delay.

Now, even the spring sun and heat will not spoil Sebby's mood.

Sam and Abigail start teasing Sebastian a little bit (affectionate) that he'll now have a silly smile on his face all day long.

Sam:

Sam is simply the epitome of a golden retriever who can get anything he wants with his charm alone. (Sam doesn't realise it himself, but still).

And even though he's a little nervous, it doesn't hurt his charm at all.

"Hey, Farmer. I've been thinking... Would you be interested in becoming my dance partner? If you don't mind."

Look at his puppy dog eyes, warm smile and slightly pink cheeks. How could you say no to him?

Here, Farmer didn't refuse either.

"Super! Thanks a lot! Let's take our positions then, we're about to dance!"

Harvey:

It took Harvey about fifteen or twenty minutes to gather the will to dare to ask Farmer to dance.

It seemed like an easy task for a doctor, but his throat was immediately dry and his heart was pounding frantically in his chest.

"Farmer, I was wondering if you'd like-" "To dance with you? Sure thing, Harvey!"

Well, that was easier than he thought. And why was Harvey getting worried over nothing?

Now, the only thing left for him to do was to wait for the dance to start and hope Harvey didn't step on Farmer's foot out of excitement.

Shane:

To be honest, Shane didn't dare ask Farmer for fear of rejection.

But eventually Jas intervened, telling Farmer that "uncle Shane wants to talk to you" ("Jas!").

Well, since the conversation is already inevitable, Shane has to ask them.

"Do you want to be my dance partner?" "Of course, Shane, I'd love to!"

The heck, what... Why was it so easy?

Now they're both dancing, he can't believe it! Shane is pleased.

(In the background, Jas smiles at her uncle and Farmer as they both walk to the dance floor).

SDV bachelorettes:

Leah:

Probably, of all the candidates present, Leah is the calmest. Why make something up when you can just ask them straight out?

"Hey, Farmer. If you don't have a dance partner, we can dance together."

The artist was quite okay to take no for an answer.

Still, glad that Farmer agreed to her request.

"Cool. I'll get us a good spot so we don't bake directly in the sun while dancing."

Honesty and calmness are key to her success.

Penny:

Yoba, give her strength and courage...

Penny was embarrassed to even look in Farmer's direction, let alone start a conversation with them.

Someone she knows should help nudge her to ask Farmer (Emily or Maru).

The young teacher was so nervous, she didn't even notice that Farmer smilingly agreed to her offer to be a dance partner.

Wait, what? She heard everything right? They said yes?

Oh well... then Penny went to get prepared (get prepared mentally not to faint from happiness).

Abigail:

"Ugh, stupid Flower dance... Mum made me wear this dumb dress again..." *notices Farmer* "Hey, Farmer~ Do you have a dance partner already?"

Abigail isn't really shy, to be honest.

Won't ask Farmer directly about dancing, but her hints are impossible not to recognise.

She was terribly relieved that Farmer agreed and immediately grabbed their hand, dragging them towards the dance floor.

Abby hopes her mother wouldn't think that she liked dancing now, or Caroline would want to take her to aerobics later.

Maru:

Maru was still practising her speech to Farmer from a day ago. She was really hoping that they would agree to dance with her at the festival.

That doesn't change the fact that even though she was prepared, Maru was a little nervous for fear of rejection.

Still, until you ask them, you won't know, right?

When Farmer approached her on their own, Maru finally asked them.

The young inventor's fears were in vain: the Farmer said yes immediately!

Oh, she couldn't wait to take her place to dance with Farmer!

Emily:

Emily is just overjoyed! A beautiful day, a beautiful atmosphere, a beautiful forest... The spirits are favouring them today.

Oh, there's the Farmer! She immediately ran up to them to ask them to dance.

The blue-haired girl was too excited to even think about the fact that Farmer might refuse her....

But that wouldn't happen, because Farmer agreed without hesitation!

Emily, even more overjoyed, immediately took them to the dance floor, letting them rehearse the dance together before festival starts.

Haley:

"Farmer. I'm you want, I might dance with you~"

Haley doesn't know if her charm will work, since last year she refused to dance with them. Yeah, awkward...

So she won't be surprised if they turn her down. But will be surprised when Farmer immediately agrees.

"Great! Then we need to rehearse to make everything perfect. I've already been Flowers Queen for a few years, I don't want to give up the title."

Haley doesn't care about the title anymore, she's dancing with Farmer! Hee hee~

#stardew valley #sdv #sdv alex #sdv shane #sdv harvey #sdv sebastian #sdv elliott #sdv sam #sdv penny #sdv leah #sdv abigail #sdv maru #sdv emily #sdv haley #sdv headcanons #thanks for the ask!

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astrid-sama · 2 months

Note

What if a reader x carmilla but reader sold their soul to Carmilla as a show of love and devotion to her? Like either they were already dating, or they confessed and gave her their soul when she accepted.

(Hi, thanks for your request, I'm sorry it took me so long to write it, but I wanted to give context to your request)

Carmilla Carmine x fem reader

The first thing I thought of when I realized I was in hell was "what did I do to deserve it?", even today I can't give myself an answer, while alive I had always been told that to end up in hell you had to have accomplished horrible actions, but I had never done anything wrong; the only blame that can be attributed to me is my death, I was killed, due to my naivety, by what I believed to be the love of my life.

At first I was quite surprised by hell, I imagined it as a great chasm that descended to the bowels of the earth inhabited by sadistic demons whose aim was to make your eternal damnation an agony, but instead it was a large city and to make your eternal damnation and torment were not demonic creatures but other sinners.

When I had resigned myself to my eternal "life" of suffering, I met the person who made me feel like I was in paradise without ever having even seen the golden gates of heaven.

The first time I met Carmilla was during the extermination, I had recently arrived in hell and I didn't know that once a year the angels came to kill sinners.

I was about to be killed by an exterminating angel but then she came and saved me.

When, after having made the angel flee, she held out her hand to help me stand up and asked me how I was, I felt my heart skip a beat. I don't know exactly what Carmilla liked about me, but after that day I was no longer alone in hell, at first I found an acquaintance, then a friend and finally a lover.

Carmilla had introduced me to her daughters before we even got together, she was very happy when she saw that we got along well, in fact within a few months I had become their "second mother".

The day Carmilla confessed her love to me and asked me if I wanted to be her girlfriend was the best day of my life.

Our relationship was perfect and made me realize how different our relationship was from what I had had in the past, Carmilla was always kind and loving to me, she gave me black roses (my favorite flowers) because she wanted to and not as as a sign of apology for hitting me, she never had outbursts of anger because I went out with my friends or because I didn't answer her phone calls; and the more time passed the more my fear grew that one day all this would end, it wasn't often that I was able to express my love for her to Carmilla and I feared that if I wasn't able to show her that I would be hers forever she would get tired of me (like my ex who had finally killed me).

I began to think about the best way to show her my undying love for her and finally decided that I would give her my soul.

I had organized a romantic dinner at our house and asked Clara and Odette if they could leave us alone for the evening.

My heart begins to beat faster with anticipation when you hear the door open symbolizing Carmilla's return.

-Welcome back-

I said and Carmilla greeted me by kissing me tenderly on the lips.

-How was your day?-

-Good now that you are here with me, mi amor-

I felt my cheeks heat up at the cute nickname, oh how I loved when she spoke to me in Spanish.

-Come love, I gave you a surprise-

-Did I do something special to deserve a candlelit dinner?-

-Why can't I treat my girlfriend well? Come let's go eat-

The dinner was very pleasant and Carmilla's hand remained on top of mine the entire time.

After dinner, Carmilla and I sat on the couch so close our knees were touching.

-Carmilla, I wanted to give you a gift, since you usually give me gifts-

-Mi amor there was no need, you are enough for me-

Carmilla said and then kissed my hands.

-Of course there is a need. I wanted to give you something that could show you how much I love you and that I would do anything for you; I want to give you my soul-

I expected Carmilla to be happy, but instead the emotion I saw on her face was bewilderment.

-Mi amor, don't joke with certain things-

-I'm serious -

-Why do you want to give me your soul?-

-I want to show you that I love you and that I will love you forever and there is no better way to do it than to give yourself to you-

-Mi amor why do you think you have to prove something to me?-

-I I...-

I didn't know what to say, I wanted to show Carmilla that I loved her as she always did for me and I had believed that giving her my soul would be the best path, I wanted to avoid having doubts about our relationship, I wanted to avoid it ending up the way it ended with my ex because maybe if I had shown him how much I loved him he wouldn't have had any doubts about us maybe he wouldn't have killed me maybe...

-Mi amor please tell me what pushed you to do something like that, you know you can tell me everything.-

Carmilla looked very worried.-

When I was still alive I had a relationship, he was very possessive and wanted me to prove to him that I was his but I didn't do it and I ruined everything and in the end he killed me; I was afraid of ruining everything with you too-

-Mi amor possessiveness is not a sign of love, the person you were with before was toxic and if he had really loved you he wouldn't have killed you. I don't need you to give me your soul to love you, I just love you-

-Please forgive me, I didn't realize how toxic what I wanted to do was-

-It's not your fault mi amor, it's the fault of that bastard who made you believe that those things were normal in a relationship. Mi amor I love you more than my life, if you want I will always be by your side and I will help you overcome the wounds that your past reaction has left you.-

#hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine #carmilla carmine x fem reader #carmilla carmine x reader #hazbin hotel carmilla carmine

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ladadiida · 2 months

Text

a little sneak peak of my (angsty) aventurine fic ♡

a large bouquet of freshly picked flowers tied with a single piece of red ribbon sat on your right hip, cradled gently with both of your arms so as to not crush them.

you knew, after all, that the petals of a flower were delicate, fragile enough to fall apart with just a fleeting touch of a fingertip. you moved the bouquet closer to your chest to protect them, even though you were dreadfully aware that in a few days, they would rot and die inside an expensive ceramic vase with hardly enough water to feed themselves.

any onlooker would speculate that a yearning gentleman gave you the flowers in hopes for you to accept his love with the way you held them, like they were yours to keep and yours to treasure; and as your reflection in the mirror stared back at you with tender eyes, you began to feel that it seemed to agree with the thought. the vibrant colors of the bouquet contrasted the plain, washed out gray color of your uniform, but you allowed yourself to pretend that the flowers were for you and someone actually chose them for you with you in their mind.

slightly hesitant at first, you leaned in and moved your face closer to the flowers like a sophisticated maiden who just received a bouquet from a suitor, inhaling their sweet and earthy scent that reminded you of home. it was the same scent you would wake up to every early morning as you prepare to open your flower shop, placing them in their respective vases and pots while you water their sprouting leaves and budding petals, watching them bloom under your love and care.

you closed your eyes, imagining yourself inside your flower shop again. you would drink a cup of warm tea sprinkled with dried jasmine and lavender and arrange flowers together to create bouquets that would swoon the entire cosmos; and then a familiar pair of arms would wrap themselves around your waist, the mystery person placing his chin on top of your shoulder. you will try not to giggle when you feel the golden strands of his hair tickle your neck, and his purple eyes will sparkle with amusement as he began to open his mouth to whisper something in your ear—

"do you think she'll like it?"

your fantasy world crumbled down like crushed petals under your feet the moment you heard his voice. you forced the frivolous flutter of your heart to stop, putting on a neutral expression when you turned around to face him. he was already looking at the bouquet resting on your arms with a satisfied grin, taking off his tinted glasses to get a better look, reminding you yet again that the flowers he buys will never belong to you.

and it was obvious too. you tried to push down your disappointment as you scanned over the little gift you prepared. the bouquet consisted of red camellias (desire) that have the same shade as the streaks of a certain someone's pure white hair, and periwinkles (fondness) to match the color of her eyes. the flowers were screaming somebody else's name, but you dare not say it out loud.

without waiting for your answer, he took the bouquet from you, his gloved hands brushing against your bare ones, and you didn't fail to notice how the little action made your heart jump pathetically. observing the flowers, he hummed in contentment, "ah, of course she will. you are the most talented florist in the galaxy. i mean, look at this."

you blinked slowly, not letting the compliment get to you. you worked with him long enough to know that they were only a part of his facade. "i'm not sure about that. i was planning to get red roses but they were out of stock. i hope red camellias will make up for it."

he suddenly poked at your forehead with a finger, and this time, you failed to hide your surprise at his actions. the tips of your ears reddened, the shade becoming deeper the longer he allowed himself to touch you. he then met your wide eyed gaze with his empty and soulless ones, much different to the version of himself in your daydreams.

"don't fret. i can see you're overthinking. if my...tricks wouldn't work on topaz, i'm sure the flowers will. they always do. women tend to soften after a sweet and heartwarming gesture." he said, chuckling lowly and voice tinted with the schemes he's about to unleash.

the blonde pulled away from you and began to walk away, his touch lingering on the skin of your forehead. you didn't know what prompted you to do so, but you suddenly blurted out his name as his footsteps were beginning to sound far and far away from you like it always does,

"sir aventurine."

aventurine stopped in his tracks, his back continuing to face you. you itched to go after him, to take his hand and cage him in your arms and tell him no, that woman will never see you as i do, and she would never appreciate the flowers, don't go, don't go, don't leave me—

you forced a soft smile even if he couldn't see you at all, and said breathlessly, miserably, and hopelessly, "good luck on negotiating with miss topaz."

#hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #ਏਓ ladadiida

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justmystyles · 10 months

Text

Now You're In My Life - Part 3

part 1

part 2

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 1.8k (it's a shorty, but I promise the next one won't be)

summary: a chance meeting at a diner turns your world upside-down.

warnings: some curse words, but other than that it's tame.

a/n: i am absolutely blown away by the reception i've received over the last couple of days. i just had these stories in my brain that i wanted to write down to get out of my system, i never in a million years thought anyone would read them, let alone actually like them. i'm so thankful for all of the likes, comments, reblogs, lurkers. thank you thank you thank you! 🖤

i say it's a plus size reader, while i don't focus a lot on that aspect (because your size should not define you), it will come up, so i just wanted to be upfront about it.

tag list: @bethanysnow @cute-as-ducks420 @gem1712 @golden-hoax @groovychaosavenue @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @youknowwhaaat

The day after your night with Harry, you sat at your desk willing your eyes to stay open as you reviewed the end of month report. By the time you got home, and the adrenaline of the evening had worn off, you only really got about an hour and a half of sleep. You figure you probably should have called out, but you had been holding onto your PTO so that you could end the year with two months of short weeks.

You were startled by a soft knock at your cubicle wall. You turned to find one of your coworkers, hiding half of his body and displaying a suspicious smile on his face. “Hi Y/N.”

“No way that’s a good greeting,” you reply cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

“You always think the worst of us,” he chuckled. “I’m just here to hand off the delivery that just came for you.” He stepped to his left, revealing an elaborate flower arrangement.

Your eyes went wide and you reached out to take the vase, pulling it up to your face to inhale the scent of fresh sunflowers, orange roses, safari sunset, and yellow solidago. The perfect combination of fall colors.

“You guys got me flowers?” You ask. Sure, you worked with some great guys, but they were typical mid-forties construction guys, you didn’t think it would ever cross their minds to get you flowers. Especially for no reason.

“Not us.” Your coworker shrugged before returning to his desk.

Even more confused than before, you place the flowers down on your desk, and remove the attached card. Pulling it from the envelope, her heart leapt as she read over the words.

Thank you for last night. Especially that last bit.

-H

PS - This should also cover your train ride. ;)

They were from Harry. He was thanking you for kissing him.

That’s it, you clearly never made it into work, you’re still at home in your bed. This has to be a dream.

You sat back down, and reached for your phone on the other side of the desk. You didn’t want to bother him, but it would be polite to thank him for the flowers, right? Just one text, that’s not too much of a bother. He can read it when he has a moment and respond whenever he wants. If he wants. You take a deep breath, building up the courage, and quickly open up your message app, typing Harry’s name into a new message.

Thank you sooooo much for the flowers. Completely unnecessary, but very much appreciated. :)

Before you even had a chance to lock your phone, a FaceTime call from Harry lit up the screen. Your eyes went wide, you weren’t even really expecting a reply text, let alone a FaceTime.

You swipe to answer, and before you know it, you’re staring at Harry who’s looking into his phone with that wide, dimpled grin.

“Harry, you really didn’t have to do this.”

“I know, but I wanted to. Do you like them?”

“They’re beautiful. Really.”

“Well, let’s see them then.”

You swap the camera view, the flowers coming onto the screen. You see Harry’s brow furrow and his head shake in disapproval.

“No no no, this won’t do at all. I’m going to have to let you go. I’ve got to give that florist a piece of my mind.”

“What?! Why? They’re so beautiful!”

“I made it very clear to them that I wanted the flowers to be as beautiful as you are. These aren’t even close.”

Your heart melts immediately, but you’re quickly snapped out of it by the sarcastic ‘awws’ and kissy noises from the cubicles around you. Everyone was listening to your call. You were mortified.

“Y/N, can you flip the camera back around, please?” Harry’s voice rings out over the taunting of your coworkers. You quickly comply, and he starts to chuckle. “There’s that adorable blush. I wish I were there to pinch those cheeks.”

You cover your eyes with your free hand before rushing into a nearby conference room for some privacy. You take a seat at the table, placing your elbow down and burying your face in your hand.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” Harry says before taking a brief pause. “Well, maybe a little.” He chuckles. “But more than that, I wanted to make sure you know that last night meant a lot to me.”

His words pull you from your spiral of embarrassment, you stay silent for a moment, making sure you heard him correctly before uncovering your face. “Really?” You ask tentatively. Harry nods his head with a sweet smile. “Me too.”

“Yeah? Excellent! I’d really like to see you again, would you like that?”

“Yeah, I really would.”

“Great, New York City isn’t that far from you, right?”

“No, it’s a few hours. Not a bad ride, I’ve done it a few times.”

“Would you like to do it this weekend? I’m at Madison Square Garden Saturday and Sunday, I would really like you to come.”

Your smile widens at the thought of spending the weekend with Harry. “Yeah, that sounds really great. I would love to.”

“Great! Can I book anything for you? Travel? Hotel?”

“No Harry, I’ve got it. I’ll book everything and let you know my itinerary.”

Harry smiles, and you can see the excitement in his eyes, even through the phone screen. “I can’t wait. Oh! And don’t forget your costumes!”

“Costumes?”

“Yeah, it’s Harryween! You’ll need to have costumes for the shows.”

“Harry… ween?” You question.

“Yeah, it’s Halloween, and my name is Harr--”

“No no no, I get it,” You interrupt him, waving your hand at the camera. “I just… it’s cute.” You smile.

“Yeah?”

“Definitely. I’m a sucker for a good pun.”

You see a sparkle in Harry’s eyes, and his dimples re-appear. “I knew I liked you, Y/N.” He joked. “The costumes don’t have to be too elaborate or anything, you can just reuse one of your old ones.”

Your chuckle at his suggestion. “I don’t think that’s going to work, I haven’t had a Halloween costume since I was like twelve.”

Harry’s jaw dropped at your confession. “You don’t go out on Halloween? No parties or anything.”

You shrug in response. “Never get invited anywhere.” You pause for a moment, suddenly remembering the one time you actually did get invited to a Halloween party. As a plus one. You were dumped two days before the party, and it was too late to return the costume, so you threw it in one of your basement storage bins. “Actually, I may have something.”

Harry could see the sadness in your eyes as you recalled the memory. He hated the sight, and silently swore to himself that he’d do everything in his power to make sure you never made that face again.

“Perfect. I’m sure you’ll look stunning in whatever it is.”

You grin through your blush, a knock at the door brings you back to the present. “Well, I uh… I should get back to work. I’ll see you this weekend.”

Definitely. And I’ll be texting and calling you well before that. You don’t really think I’m just going to go three days without talking to you, do you?”

“I mean, you went all those years without talking to me before we met.” You shrugged.

“Then I guess we’re going to have to talk all that much more to make up for lost time.” The sincerity in his voice makes your heart race. “I’ll talk to you soon, Y/N.”

“Bye, Harry.” You smile before ending the call and returning to your desk.

When Harry said you had to make up for lost time, you didn’t think he meant it literally. But he would text you often throughout the day. He would let you know what he was up to, ask you what you were doing and tell you how excited he was to see you this weekend.

He had a show Wednesday night, and he had been texting you right up until the last moment before he went onstage. He asked if he could call you after the show, you told him of course. You figured it would be around eleven or so, which was pretty late for you, but you’d just go to bed and leave your ringer on. The sound of the phone would wake you up, and you could talk to Harry and hear all about the show before going to bed properly.

The plan worked… mostly.

The sound of your phone woke you from your slumber. Still half asleep, you reach over to your nightstand, swiping to answer the call. “Harry?” You say groggily.

“Y/N? I can’t see you.”

See?! It’s a phone call, what is he talking about? You pull the phone from your ear and look at the screen, you sit up with a jolt when you see Harry’s face on the other end.

It wasn’t a phone call, it was a FaceTime. He was on your screen, hair perfectly tousled from performing onstage. He looked amazing. You were in bed, hair in a sloppy topknot, no makeup, a couple of pimple patches, probably some eye crusties. And Harry wanted to see you.

“I… uh… I thought you were going to call?”

“I was, but I missed your face. I wanted to see you.”

Harry wanted to see you. Not if he knew the horror show that was waiting for him on the other side of that phone. “That’s really sweet Harry, but I wasn’t expecting to see you. I don’t have any makeup on, I’m all gross and night face-y”

“Turn on the light, darling. Let me see you.”

Darling. He called you darling. Nothing that had happened over the past three days felt real.

How could you say no now? “Alright, fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” You sigh and reluctantly lean across your nightstand, turning on your lamp. You look into the phone, Harry’s eyes soften when he finally sees you. A look of adoration spread across his face.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

“Harry…”

“I’m serious. Thank you for being vulnerable with me.” He had seen it the night you met, but your insecurities and difficulties letting people in became even more obvious to him the more he spoke with you. He wanted nothing more than to be trusted with your heart. He wanted to know everything about you; the good, the bad, he wanted you to let him in, and he was willing to take as much time as you needed.

You talked for a few minutes, getting a recap of his show, talking about your schedules for the next day. But Harry could see you were tired, he didn’t want to keep you up too long. You said your goodnights, and he blew you a kiss through the phone. You smiled shyly and ended the call, placing your phone back down, turning off the light, and snuggling into your blankets. You drifted off, replaying your conversation in your head.

Especially the part where he called you darling.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles meet cute #harry styles fluff #harry's house #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #love on tour #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic

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rqgnarok · 10 months

Note

Hear me out. Jamie’s love for chains x Taylor’s “I want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck”… Just thinking about Jamie wearing reader’s initials😩😩😩 *insert that feral screaming crying throwing up meme*

anon u hit my weak spot with the taylor swift reference i love this request sm

It was a brutal game.

Dani was unfairly sent away with a red in the second half, which gave the other team just enough time to tie against an unorganized Richmond. The end result of 2-2 tasted more like defeat than anything else, both as a player and a fan.

You couldn't even be there for Jamie, away on a work trip that had you cursing and screaming at the game playing on your laptop in a random hotel room. All you wanted was to bring Jamie home and hold him until the sting of the game left his bones, you were worried he might fall into a sulk without you there.

But there were still three more days to your assignment until you were able to come home and you had to settle for a FaceTime call later, watching interviews of the boys in the meantime where they put a brave face for the media and fans.

Jamie, still a little disheveled from the quick shower he took in the locker room smiles a brittle grin at a reporter as he settles in for an interview. He asks them how they've been and talks praises about his teammates and coaches despite the results. You reach a hand to trace the shape of his face on your screen, his cheeks and mouth, and the bridge of his nose when something catches your attention.

It's a simple golden chain hanging loosely against Jamie's chest. You frown, trying to recognize it from the jewelry he usually wears. Your boyfriend's taste was usually something flashier- fashion statements that people talked about on Twitter usually as either a hit or a miss, nothing in between, but you can't place ever seeing this one before.

He fiddles with it, not a nervous tic but rather a comforting one, and you see some tension melt from his frame when he comes in contact with the pendant that hangs from the chain.

A pendant with your initial.

Warmth washes over you as soon as realization does and the feeling of homesickness increases tenfold. You have no idea when Jamie got that, let alone why he didn't tell you about it, but you can take a guess.

He's shy, Jamie fucking Tartt, bashful and sweet when in love despite the cool appearances he keeps for the media and, less and less these days, his teammates. It feels like a privilege whenever he lets you see those wholesome parts of him: when he picks you up from work with flowers just because or when he cries at weddings and you have to sneak him tissues during the vows.

He's so good and he's yours- and this subtle but meaningful display of affection answers something that wasn't even a question. You're his, completely and irrevocably.

Hey handsome you text him, unable to wipe the smile from your features. You can't bring yourself to make fun of him about this, even asking him about it feels like breaching a limit he quietly placed for himself, so you don't. You up for a call later when you get home?

His response comes less than ten minutes later, the interview over. You imagine him cooped up in his scar, face illuminated only by your text thread, biting his lip in concentration as he types a response but a smile peeking out, cheeky.

can u talk now? we can chat on the way

cant wait to hear ur voice

Your smile widens as you press the call button.

#jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #the way i ADORE HIM #tysm for this anon #anon ask #leo writes

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stars-before-sunrise · 10 months

Text

(HCs) When they hurt your feelings

joel miller, miguel o'hara, steven grant, steve rogers, loki

reader is: female

warnings: cursing. some more comedic, some more angsty. references to friends the tv show.

a/n: I think Joel, Miguel, and the Moon Knight boys will forever be included in my hcs lol

Joel Miller

You were already glaring at him before, now you looked like you wanted to boil him alive. "You know that's not what I meant." Joel tried to reason. He had just called you high maintenance, and you were beyond offended. So you asked him to get you flowers sometimes, or show a little affection when you're in front of friends -- were those too much to ask? "I think you meant exactly what you said." You sneered. Joel knew he fucked up. He waited a beat and took a deep breath before approaching you, caressing both his hands on your crossed ones. The moves one would make when trying to calm the other person. "I'm sorry, sweetheart." He apologized. "Look, yes, you might be slightly higher maintenance, but.. you know what? I'd do anything you want. Because I like maintainin' ya." You gave him a look of disbelief. "Really Joel? You tweaked a line from FRIENDS?" "Darn. I thought that would work."

Miguel O'Hara

"Hermosa, I-" Miguel felt immense guilt when you refused to let him touch you. You'd failed on missions before, but it was never as bad as this. You knew you could've done better, but you didn't expect Miguel to scold you like he did. He looked at you with so much disappointment in his eyes, and then he turned his back on you. He only realized that he was probably overreacting when you just said 'sorry' and nothing else. Not even trying to defend yourself. Tears were threatening to fall from your eyes, and then it was your turn to turn your back. But before you could actually leave, Miguel stopped you and hugged you from behind. He's a lot taller and stronger than you. There was no point in fighting back. "Lo siento, amor." He whispered. "I shouldn't have said those things to you." You sighed, leaning into his embrace. How could you ever stay mad at this man?

Steven Grant

Layla, Layla, Layla. That's all he ever talked about. Layla this, Layla that. It wasn't until you said "why don't you date Layla instead then" in one of your arguments that Steven muttered, "Believe me, I would if I could." Instant regret. "No, no, no, that's not- I didn't-" You were already grabbing your things and on your way out. Even Jake and Marc knew Steven made a huge mistake -- and they thought he'd be invincible against you. Steven was the golden boy, the boy who could do no wrong. But now since Layla appeared, it seemed like the only person he wanted to impress was her. "Whew, you think there's a chance she might forgive him for that one?" Marc asked Jake knowing Steven could listen. "Ay no." Jake shook his head. "There's no saving yourself from that one. He's doomed." Steven glared at them both and chased after you.

Steve Rogers

He mentioned Peggy while he was out cold after a mission. A few times. How were you supposed to compete with that? A love story that lasted over 70 years. What were you even doing falling in love with Steve Rogers anyway? You stayed by his side until the moment he woke up. You didn't know how to face him. So you avoided him while he was being treated in the hospital, but couldn't anymore when he was finally discharged. "Are you done avoiding me?" Your jaw clenched when you saw Steve waiting by your apartment. You could only ignore him. "Sam told me what happened." He pushed himself off your door and walked towards you. "Doll, she's.. Peggy's gone. You're the only one I want. You know that." You sighed. "Steve, Tony created a time machine. You went back and you saw her. Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me you don't think about going back there now and staying with her?" He stayed silent. And that was the only answer you needed.

Loki

"Oh, must you cry ALL the time??" Loki yelled, clearly frustrated that you're on the bed, crying over a movie you've never watched before. It only made you cry more. Loki sighed and pulled you into his arms. Maybe you weren't one for tough love. He caressed your hair and smiled when your sobs finally turned into sniffles. "There, there." He comforted you. "You've only got Beth's death left." "WHAT?!" Loki sensed that he might have made a mistake in telling you that bit of information. "Beth dies???" You choked, "No- Now I don't want to watch it anymore! Why would you tell me that???" He was speechless. He could only hold you again and hand you tissues. Why did he tell you that?

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sunflower-lilac42 · 3 months

Text

✧ 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐭 || flowers au ♔

summary: connor receives his first bouquet from violet after she visits for her first game

warnings: none, i don't think

notes: finally a happy one! don't worry these upcoming ones all are happy ones as well but i love angst so... that might change. also do you guys want more of the fantilli siblings?? i feel like i have just been writing for violet and connor which i don't mind doing, i love it, but i feel like i made her the sister of luca and adam and i haven't really made it a point to really explore their relationship. also this would've been out earlier but I kind of started watching the golden globes so... and everytime i write connor saying 'sweet girl' or 'pretty girl' i literally die inside. feel free to ask anything for the au because i love hearing from you guys and i hope to answer some questions if you have any. add yourself to the taglist ➵ taglist!

au masterlist | nhl masterlist | main masterlist

After relentless begging, text after text, call after call, bribe after bribe, Violet finally agreed to take a weekend to drive up to the city to watch one of Connor’s games. In reality, it didn’t take much for her to agree it was just the timing of his games and her school things that made it almost entirely impossible for her to visit.

Connor was bouncing off the walls when he got the text from her saying she was coming for not only one but two games, however, he knew the second one wasn’t for him. It worked out that the game she decided to go to, they were playing the Devils the next day. She debated heavily for a while before she decided to get tickets to that one as well.

Connor was more than happy to get her tickets, Violet initially refused the offer from the boy but he wasn’t having any of it. Getting her two tickets for both the Panthers and the Devils games. He hasn’t been this excited and nervous for a game since his debut and even then, he was calmer than that.

Violet spent all week working on his bouquet. She hadn’t thought about which flower he represented and when she did, she didn’t know which one to give him. There were so many that he could be, yet as she looked through her book of flowers corresponding them with her favorites, she landed on canterbury bells.

She had fallen in love with these flowers right before her high school graduation. They were outside the venue where she would graduate from and snapped a picture, not having time to look it up. When she looked up pictures she was immediately entranced by their beauty and knew that she should save those flowers for someone special.

When she got word of Nico being injured, she was saddened for both him and the team. He was their captain, they couldn’t do anything without them. So even though she’s only met the man once or twice her whole life, she still made him a bouquet.

She dragged Ollie to the games with her, the two of them driving up to Chicago after Ollie’s last class on Friday. She hadn’t seen Connor in forever and she was super excited. She texted him throughout the drive, mostly because Connor wanted to make sure they were driving safely and nothing happened along the way.

When they arrived at Connor’s apartment, she knocked on the door, “I’m waiting.”

Connor opened the door and immediately grinned, bringing her into a hug which she gladly accepted. Ollie excused herself into the apartment as the two stayed hugging, “I missed you.”

Connor sighed, placing his chin on her head, “I missed you too.”

“I need to tell you everything that’s happened in the past however many months.” She giggled, ready for her gossip session with her best friend.

Connor laughed and led her into his apartment, placing her bag into his room, “You are okay sharing with me right? Or would you rather stay with Ollie?”

She placed a hand on his arm, “If I wasn’t okay with it I wouldn’t have offered it. Now what are we doing for dinner, I’m starving.” She flopped down on his bed curling up into the comforter.

“I don’t know, what do you want?”

Before she even got a word out, Ollie screamed from the guest room, “Texas Roadhouse!”

Ollie had been obsessed with Texas Roadhouse since she started going to UofI. She and Violet were wandering about and were extremely hungry so they decided to go somewhere they had never been before. She fell in love with the rolls and everything else was history.

“Of course, she does.” Violet turned over and got under the covers of Connor’s bed. Connor raised an eyebrow at her, “What are you doing?”

She shot him an innocent smile, “Getting comfy. I don’t want to go anywhere?”

“Is that true, sweet girl?” Violet blushed at the nickname, Connor only really used it if she was in the middle of an anxiety or a panic attack. She just nodded as she closed her eyes, smelling the fading scent of Connor from the pillow.

“How about I can go and get it and then bring it back.”

“I came here to see you, I want to spend time with you especially because you have games the next two days.” Her eyes focused on the ground before fiddling with her fingers and picking at them.

Connor placed a hand over her own to stop her from picking at them, “Hey, stop it. You can go with me if you want.”

She popped up quickly, “Okay!”

✧༺✎༻∞

Ollie ate in the guest room, not wanting to impede on the growing relationship happening outside her door. Violet and Connor sat in the small living room watching the Blues and Devils game. They were in the middle of talking when all of a sudden the announcers started talking loudly and they couldn’t hear the sound of the skates anymore.

Violet looked at the TV to see Jack against the boards, not moving. She gasped in horror as they played the replay, even though it didn’t look that bad, he still wasn’t moving. Her leg started to bounce anxiously, Connor pulled her to his side, “Hey it’s okay, sweet girl. He’s going to be okay.”

Even though they weren’t the closest friends, they still cared about each other. Jack and Violet’s relationship was just a bunch of banter and annoyance for one another, but if she needed to or if he did, they knew they could go to each other.

She never stopped thinking of the worst possible outcome, “What if he’s not? Luke must be so worried right now. I couldn’t imagine if Adam or Luca got hurt.”

The boy moved her to sit in front of him and she wrapped her arms around his torso. Connor unfolded his legs and she scooted closer so she could rest her head on his chest. He wrapped an arm around her and placed his other hand on her head, keeping it where it was, “He’s fine, sweetheart. Calm down, please. I hate seeing you cry.”

She calmed down at his touch, one of the quickest times she had calmed down from an emotional high. When she pulled away Connor looked down at her, “Hey there she is.”

He wiped the tears off of her cheeks and smiled, “There’s the pretty girl.”

She groaned, hiding her face back in his chest once more, a blush rising to her face, “Connor. Stop it.”

✧༺✎༻∞

Before the game, Violet and Ollie went out and explored Chicago. They went to the Bean and went to Magnolia Bakery. They went shopping because they both knew that if Connor had gone with them, he would’ve tried to pay for everything.

Ollie teased the girl as she put on her Bedard jersey, “When are you guys going to get together?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on. You two are so in love with each other that it’s annoying and gross.”

“We are not.”

“Then what were all the nicknames I heard last night, ‘sweet girl’, ‘pretty girl’, ‘sweetheart’?”

“He was just being nice. No one could like me like that.”

“What do you mean V? You are one of the most amazing people ever. You are the kindest soul, you’re out of this world gorgeous, and you make time for everyone. You are the main character of a book or a movie.”

“No, I’m not and can we move on from this, please?” Ollie frowned, saddened by her friend's self-esteem.

The two drove in almost complete silence, Violet worrying about whether or not Connor liked her. Sure, she had had a deep affection for the boy but when her roommate asked her that question she couldn’t stop asking herself if she liked him.

She never knew why they instantly clicked, whether it was because she was a damsel in distress and he saved her, or simply just because they were the same age. They never went a day without communicating and that hadn’t happened to her ever. She did find it weird that he always wanted to pay for things but she thought it was just because he was being a gentleman. Her last boyfriend was a point-blank asshole that she never told anyone about, so she was unfamiliar with a healthy and good relationship.

As they pulled into the United Center, Violet felt another wave of anxiety rushing through her, she didn’t want Connor to get hurt. She noticed all the other Bedard jerseys on other people’s backs. She hadn’t felt that bothered by it until she noticed a group of girls, roughly the same age as her, maybe a year younger, and an intense feeling of jealousy came over her.

‘They are so much prettier than me.’ ‘Connor would be happier with them.’ ‘They probably don’t have issues like I do.’ ‘They probably don’t have a fit over every little thing that happens.’

She pushed the thoughts out of her head, she was here to see Connor, and Connor was excited for her to be here. She and Ollie conversed throughout the game, making little comments here and there. Connor kept looking at her when he was on the bench or when the play stopped.

When he got his goal, Violet jumped so high, excited for the boy. He pointed at her as he skated back to the bench, a barely noticeable wink but when they showed him on the video board she blushed. Some of the girls were talking around her but she couldn’t pay any mind to it when he was on the ice, eyes laser focused on not only him but anyone who came close to him.

When he got his high-sticking penalty in the third period, Ollie nudged her, “Ooooo, looks like you got yourself a bad boy.”

“Shut up.”

After the game was over, they stayed behind waiting for the stars of the game. The second star of the game was Connor and he pointed at her once more with his stick, causing her cheeks to redden again. He could do anything at this point and she would blush.

They met Connor back at his apartment and Ollie went immediately to bed. Violet stayed up until Connor was done with his shower and he laid down next to her, “Hi.”

“Hi. nice job tonight.”

“Thank you.”

“I got you something.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to, now shut up and close your eyes.” Violet walked over to her bag where she had hidden the bouquet.

When it was in her hand she sat in front of him on the bed and held it out, “Open.”

Connor opened his eyes and looked down, eyes immediately watering, “You made me a bouquet?”

He had always wanted one after she told him about them. There was something about Violet's flowers that just made him so happy and the fact that he got one made him feel special, “Thank you.”

He examined the flowers with precision, not wanting to miss any details, “What are they?”

“Canterbury bells.”

“And what do they mean?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Of course!”

“They represent faith, gratitude, and constancy. I’m really grateful for you and they just reminded me of a special person which is you.”

Connor couldn’t help but let a few tears fall, “That means a lot.”

“Con, don’t cry!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.” She hugged him tightly, and that’s how the two fell asleep that night.

✧༺✎༻∞

violetsdiaries

liked by lhughes_06, jackhughes, nicohischier, and 586,431 others

violetsdiaries i went to chicago this weekend and saw my best friend! if you wish to know, the sunflowers are for Luke, the multi-colored roses are for Nico as a get better, and the opened tulips are for Jack as a get better as well. if you're worried, don't be! luke's taking care of them for me 🫶🏻 missed you lukey 🥲

tagged lhughes_06, ollie.barnes, jack hughes, nicohischier

view 9873 comments

lhughes_06 they arrived safely to jersey

⤷ violetsdiaries thank you, thank you, thank you

jackhughes thanks, v. they're really nice

⤷ violetsdiaries of course jacky, don't say i never did naything ncie for you

nicohischier we've met each other once? twice? i can't believe you made me a famous violet bouquet.

⤷ violetsdiaries nico you are the most precious person ever. also famous??

⤷ nicohischier yeah, lhughes_06 never shuts up about them

⤷ violetsdiaries lukeyyyy you got some explaining to do

⤷ lhughes_06 no i don't

adamfantilli wait, there's four bouquets there 🧐

⤷ violetsdiaries i guess that one year of college really paid off 😧

⤷ adamfantilli i don't need your sass missy

⤷ violetsdiaries i was going to tell you but after that comment...

user01 she's so secretive but i'm kind of living for it

user02 i really want to know who that fourth bouquet is for 😫

⤷ user03 fr, i need to know who's so special for them to get a violet bouquet

⤷ user04 the torture needs to end violetsdiaries

⤷ violetsdiaries i would love to tell you guys, but not yet

luca.fantilli you'll tell me tho right violetsdiaries? i'm your favorite brother

⤷ violetsdiaries hahaha no

ollie.barnes hehe adamfantilli & luca.fantilli i know!

⤷ adamfantilli ollie, you're our favorite

⤷ luca.fantilli yeah, adam will buy you anything you want

⤷ ollie.barnes sorry boys, i'm loyal to violet

thompsonjared63 you went to a hockey game without us

⤷ violetsdiaries i'm so sorry, i'll bring you next time

⤷ _connorbedard uh...

⤷ user05 connor why you being like that

⤷ user06 a little sus

⤷ user07 1. who is this man and 2. why is he in her comment section

⤷ user05 he was the first overall pick in the 2023 nhl draft and apparently he knows violet, he's been liking and commenting on her posts for like five or six months now

⤷ violetsdiaries no comment

user08 i feel like her and connor would be a really cute couple

⤷ user09 agreed!

⤷ markestapa i don't

user10 chicago vlog!

✧༺✎༻∞

messyviolets

liked by ollie.barnes, _connorbedard, lhughes_06 and 298,753 others

messyviolets ollie and i had a bit of fun in chicago... i came for one but saw another... anyways i missed luke so much so it was good to see him. thank you to ollie for the most amazing pics ever

tagged lhuges_06, ollie.barnes

view 1234 comments

lhughes_06 missed my best friend 💜

⤷ markestapa i miss my best friend too

⤷ violetsdiaries i'm so sorry marky, i promise i'll visit over break

⤷ markestapa you better

markestapa adamfantilli, luca.fantilli, and i are alll ganging up on you. who's this mysterious person??

⤷ messyviolets no, i deserve my privacy 🙂

nathan.dash she's abandoning us

⤷ aidan.taylor we should kidnap her

⤷ mmcarthy06 as much as i would love to, we can't

⤷ emmett.joy not if she consents

⤷ aidan.taylor then it wouldn't be kidnapping

⤷ drakenilescox we should ask her messyviolets

⤷ messyviolets we're hanging out this weekend 🤭

⤷ a.varrassi22 yay!

⤷ alekleskaj17 yay!

⤷ nathan.dash yay!

⤷ justin.rolland94 yay!

⤷ nick7andersen yay!

⤷ thompsonjared63 yay!

⤷ aidan.taylor yay!

⤷ mmcarthy06 yay!

⤷ drakenilescox yay!

markestapa why are all these illini guys here?

⤷ messyviolets because they are my friends, you got a problem with it estapa?

⤷ aidan.taylor yeah, estapa

⤷ messyviolets aidan, honey, no fighting

⤷ aidan.taylor sorry, v

⤷ markestapa um, not really you're business either

⤷ messyviolets i know you're upset i didn't go to umich, mark, but you can't be acting like this

ollie.barnes we need to have more road trips together

liked by messyviolets

_connorbedard so... you went to a hawks game

⤷ messyviolets of course! gotta support lukasreichel44

⤷ lukasreichel44 oh yeah, totally

⤷ messyviolets lukas and i are best friends

⤷ _connorbedard i thought i was your best friend

⤷ lhughes_06 _connorbedard that's what i thought too

⤷ adam.fantilli you're really hustling all these guys messyviolets

⤷ messyviolets you have no clue, bro

_connorbedard you didn't die while driving

⤷ ollie.barnes that's because she mad me drive

⤷ messyviolets hey, i drove in the city! you should be proud of me connie

⤷ _connorbedard i am very proud of you, v

⤷ user11 wait they are so cute

⤷ user12 if we don't get more bantilli i will cry, or riot, but mostly cry

⤷ user11 ikr, if he's been who she's posting about, ugh they are amazing and so cute, it's literally like a dream

⤷user13 they are like straight of a book like a forbidden romance or a hidden romance

⤷ user12 wait, you're so right!

_quinnhughes how do you always manage to find cones?

⤷ violetsdiaries because I like them so they just show up everywhere and anywhere

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

171 notes · View notes

smolvenger · 5 months

Text

Yggdrasil (Loki x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: Your husband, the god of mischief, has made the ultimate sacrifice for his friends, and the world...he lives, but now he is alone...that is until you choose to join him in his solitude and make a life there.

Warnings: MAJOR spoilers for the ending of the Loki series. Angst, but fluff and hurt/comfort. YN becomes a goddess in her YN-y moment. Brief mentions of sex and pregnancy, but no smut at all. Fix it Fic goodness. Canon and Norse mythology is not a code and more like a guideline. Is it accurate? I don't know. And this is fic world. Accuracy don't mean shit. I just want my boy to be happy after all that and do my part as a Loki fic writer after...THAT.

Word Count: 2K

@fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @asgards-princess-of-mischief @huntress-artemiss @ijuststareatstuffhereok89

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

You walked over to the tree. It was incredibly beautiful. The vines reaching out. The colors are everywhere. The trunk of it twisting, twisting round. The blueness and soft greens that surrounded you. Light purple flowers high up, blossoming. You had heard of it in stories. Maybe dreamed of it once. But here…here in person it was even more beautiful.

“Hello there, Yggdrasil.” you greeted with a smile.

There was a breeze in the wind. It rattled the leaves above. The starry sky. It didn’t feel too cold here- it felt sweet, crisp. An early autumn night. You took several steps closer until you were right before the trunk. Your voice lowering.

“But I know who you really are…who is in there…” you continued.

The search had been long. It had been a month. A month since you saw him. The look on his face, and felt his sacrifice, his steps going forward. Now here it was-in person. Here he was.

It shivered in response. You went up, gently placing a hand on the bark.

You felt the curves of your lips to a gentle frown. A voice that was not begging…only requesting. Soft, but grounded. As grounded as the tree was though in it’s magic it seemed like it floated where it grew.

“Please…take me to him…it is all I want, all I wish, all I ask for…please allow me to see him…even if it’s only once…”

Was your prayer answered? Even heard? You sucked in a breath, feeling your chest grow tight with anticipation. The delicate lines of both despair and hope on a thin line.The golden band around your finger felt tight- shimmering amidst the dark wood of the tree.

The vines relented. They thinned and opened up- as easily as silk. There was a glowing opening within the tree. You felt it- a stillness. As if you were waited. Expected.

Inside it, you took your steps into the heart of the tree. It felt like the cool mist, the light rain as you walked through-like the light rain that poured the first night you let him into your bed. Your heart raced, your palms clammy.

Was this a mistake? The wrong one? It had to be…it had to! It couldn't have done that unless… it was really…no- was this it? Would Yggdrasil kill you? Destroy you for knowledge so intimate, so secret?

Branches, vines, leaves- so much wood here. There was a green light that glowed about it, shining everywhere- how perfect for him, you mused.

Your head turned. Throat going dry and tight with dread, fear. You searched around. Eyes skittering through the thick vines.

You looked around-nothing but the greenery…

Then…there was a voice. Breathy, baritone, low, rich-and it whispered your name in echoes.

The greenery opened up. You saw first horns. Then…

There, on a throne, surrounded by vines, there he sat. Pale and handsome. He was always handsome to you. Despite the lines of care, his drooping eyes…it was him. You knew that face- caressed it, kissed it so many times.

His eyes then lowered to you. Its blueness seemed darkened, dimmed. Then he looked at you, squinting. He whispered your name again, to you. You felt everything in you freeze. You wanted this. Processed it. It was real- very, very real.

“Is…is that…” he began to whisper.

Tears brimmed up your eyes and you cupped your mouth, as you felt them drop down your hand already.

“Loki it’s you!” you cried out.

Sobbing hard, you ran into him, almost tackling him into a hug. Crying so hard your whole body shook with each tearfall. So much your face felt hot, even as it scratched against his cloak- against the long vines. You felt his hands wrap around you. And you heard him just say your name again- an incantation. A spell to bring you back. A spell that worked. You cried as he held you, the vines around him shivering.

“What…what is it…why…why did you come here?” he asked.

You released the hug. Wiping off your tears with your sleeve like a little child. Your tone returned to the old teasing.

“You silly man! What kind of wife abandons her husband?”

Loki’s mouth opened, but he said nothing. His face was in awe.

“I came here for you! I figured out how- and I did!” you replied.

He let out a deep sigh. He lifted his white hand, caressing your cheek. You leaned into it, enjoying the intimacy, his touch that you had been deprived of, that he had been deprived of too for so long.

“You know I cannot leave this. Ever. I…I must do this, my love…I had to…to save all of them…to save you…I…I must make sure…their stories all…all are happy…are managed, well…even yours.” he voiced. His face serene, though a tear fell down across his cheek.

You then took his hand and clutched it.

“Loki, the many times you comforted me when I cried. Stood by me. Protected me when I was in danger, scared. Saved me, even. And you know how…how lonely I would get in Asgard. Who else would run to my side to comfort me…but you. I shall do that for you!”

His eyes widened.

“But…you cannot give up your home, your life!” he replied.

You shook your head.

“I will make a new one here- we will make a new one here…Thor and Frigga gave me their blessing before I left. They saw how happy we made each others…and that is what they want. I told them what you did. The people you saved…and they’re…they’re proud of you.”

He blinked rapidly, more tears falling down. You lifted two of your hands- cupping his face lovingly. He had no choice but to look in your eyes.

“When we were married, we promised, before the AllFather and AllMother to always stand by each other...I will honor the vows I made on that altar, as you honored your vows to me,” you declared.

The wind rustled above. Inside, there were a few violet buds that dangled, moving slightly. Willing the flower to open.

“My darling….Asgard will lack its princess.”

“A mere consort? No! I am not an heir to anything! A mere accessory to a throne, a part of a painting…and nothing eles? And alone? Loki, I don't need a palace, gold, riches, and titles…I only ask to be loved and safe…and Loki…you will be alone…now- you won’t be. I will stay by you. We will face this new part of your life together!”

There was a slight grown from the wood. Both of you looked about, your hands dropping. He nestled into the green cloak he wore around him. His helmet perfect for him- never once slipping off his head.

“It’s quiet here…there’s no one…nothing…a life of nothing…but making these stories” he mused.

“Then let me stay…let me help…if only…if only to be with you…I will live here. If not near- then give me access. I will stay here, come by every day. Visit for hours…just to be with you.”

“My darling…sweet, sweet wife…I was alone and I…I don’t have to…”

There were tears in his eyes.

“Thank you…thank you, my dear…”

He pressed his forehead to yours. The cold metal of the forehead touching your own. You only held hands. Felt each other- the love in your systems bursting forth.

A vine went to you, grazing against your arm. You lifted a hand.

“Which one is this?” you asked.

“This one…a man named Steve…or Marc…he’s three at once, it’s very complicated….” Loki explained.

You lifted a finger to touch it. There was a ripple. The vines shook, some of them went to you. You wondered…you lifted a hand. It allowed you to touch it. There was a small, reddish glow, it went up and through.

“You just…just…made something happen…something will occur for Steve…he’s about to learn what gifts he truly has…my dear…has this happened before?”

“No- not until now…”

“You think that…you have a certain…gift?” he asked.

The vines reacted in turn. You realzed as you touched them, you could help move these stories. Turn them- touching made something happen and Loki would tell you.

“My dear…you have a gift. One of fate…”

“Then…I guess I cannot leave now. You will help with stories. I will help with fates. We both have work to do.”

He smiled.

“Asgard now has a new goddess…” he said. You went up, and kissed him. You cried as your lips touched. And there was a shudder that went through the trees and rattled through the forest like a wind.

It was an adjustment. Making a home just outside of the remains of the earth. Fortunately, you knew enough magic to get by. To transport and conjure food. Even gather some from the nearby village. Enough to make a garden, a home.

And every day, you walked out to Yggdrasil. Vanished for hours. Then returned.

For the villagers, it was odd that a goddess of fate was just going about the streets getting groceries among them. You merely shrugged and laughed it off.

You said your husband was busy. Quite busy. He had an important job-crucial one. Yet people wondered at you- the mysterious goddess who lived in a cottage by the woods, whose husband never appeared, and vanished into the forest. The forest at the end of the world, mind you- every day and returned with a smile on her face as if nothing happened.

It was quiet and simple. No opulent balls and feasts of Asgard. But no fathers with clear favorites and tears and bloody battles with countless corpses and heartbreak either.

How often you polished the horns on his helmet and washed his cloak by the river. Then he would tell you all about what happened. Fates and stories. You would mend them, mind them. Determine what worked, what did not. And you would laugh and cry so hard over every story on earth of each person you would feel like a rag rung out…yet in a good way.

And you would wrap your arms around him. Sit on his lap on the throne, as you did back then so many times before. Kiss him and nuzzle into him. Feel his touch- remind him through the brush of your fingers through his dark curls. I am here, I am here, I am here.

It was like being remarried- A honeymoon fortress of oak, willow leaves, and flower petals. The newness of your husbands role, his abilities. As well as yours. But without everything else…no, you didn’t need anything else. Only each other.

It was a month later, you knew the change. You felt it. The suspicion. The inkling you felt since you began your journey. Counting on your fingers from when it last happened, and your journey to him began, the timing was right. The intuition. The small ringing of a bell in the back of your head getting louder, and louder with each passing week. The one reason on the backburner that was never confirmed. And now it was. You both wanted it. Hoped for it. Now, though the circumstances could have never been guessed, you would both receive your wish. The confirmation long awaited.

On Yule, you teasingly adored the tree in ribbons. Loki inside scoffed, rolling his eyes. But it only made you laugh harder. In Spring, you collect its flowers and put them in vases. In Summer, you cooled beneath it’s shade. Loki made sure your story was hte one most preciously protected, guarded. You made old charms from the flowers with his magic- for your safety and good health. Flowers worn over your head in crowns, on your neck. And in Autumn, you watched as they oranged and swirled. How lovely they were surrounding you as you held each other.

A year and a half went by before you knew it, as swift as mortals lives. the cottage had an infant girl living in it. She had dark hair, and your skin and eyes. And she was starting to walk. You held her up by both hands in the grass before the forest.

“Come along Freya! There’s a good girl! A step at a time!” you cooed at her.

Who knew what her powers would be. What she was goddess of. But here, she wasn’t a goddess. She was just a baby.

She was Babbling as the grass tickled her feet. The loving, green dress you tucked over her. You held her tiny, chubby hand as she experimentally bent her knees. Then she made a sound of triumph.

Motherhood was not going to stop your gifts and powers as a goddess of fate. You touched the vines and turned fates however. But you had to give happy ones to the friends of him. The ones who meant so much to him, did so much for him. For Mobius, you made sure his sons grew up healthy and strong and happy, with long vacations by lakes and oceans. For Ouroboros, you gave him several awards and successes as a writer and the inspiration and motivation to create, pour water into his own well, and never lose the joy of it. You made sure they all were safe and content.

You scooped little Freya up your arms, giving her a kiss on the side of her head. She was behaving well- not crying loud to wake the whole village. Needing perhaps a cradle from the vines of Yggdrasil again in Norns Know what time of night if she was especially fussy.

You walked her again to the tree. She looked out with her wide eyes. One hand trying to touch the leaves, the vines, the branches. A thing of flowers bloomed for her. One leafy vine went over to graze her cheek. She kicked in enthusiasm, giggling in such pure joy.

You smiled at her and then at Yggdrasil. Seeing the portal open once again.

Knowing he was inside again- to see her. Meet her. Hold her as he did when she was a swaddled newborn to be brought- for him to just hold her. Despite the great loneliness of Loki’s inital fate, you all did everything to change it. He would meet Freya and watch her grow up. He would see her, hold her, love her. Again. Again. And again.

You turned your face to the baby with a smile, and then to the portal door and the god of stories waiting inside.

“Freya- let’s go see your father.”

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