#OT3 fluff

[juodojimirtis]

In an Avalilidriel scenario, Ava would feel completely surrounded by love and warmth. She'd bury her face in Adriel's chest, while Lilith would press herself against Ava from behind. She'd cover both Ava and Adriel with her wing, shielding them. In the arms of her husband and wife, there is no way Ava could ever feel alone.

[scealaiscoite]

poly fluff alphabet ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍊 ꒱

a = affection; is anyone more overly affectionate than the others? when it comes to physical vs verbal, who prefers what?

b = bed; what’s the sleeping situation like? are there regular sleeping arrangements - does anyone like to sleep alone?

c = comfort; when someone’s feeling down, how do the rest look after them?

d = dates; what do dates look like? who usually plans them, or are is it a group affair?

e = events; who drags everyone else to their family/friends’ events?

f = fights; are arguments something that happen often? what are they over, and how are they resolved?

g = getting together; how did it all come about? were there any pre-existing relationships between them?

h = hobbies; does anyone share any hobbies/passions? how do they include the rest of their partners in them?

i = in sickness and in health - when someone falls ill, who’s the carer and who’s the germaphobe? is there anyone that resists being looked after?

j = joker; who’s got the best sense of humour? do they like to tease and banter with everyone else?

k = knowing; who can read their partners like a book? is there anyone who’s got their walls up, even around their partners?

l = lavish; is there anyone who really likes to treat their partners/show them off? how do the rest tend to react - who revels in it, and who’s made shy by it?

m = memories - is anyone more on the sentimental side?

n = nights; what’s the nighttime routine like when they’re all together?

o = open; how open is everyone with one another?

p = pda; what’s pda like with them? is there anyone who loves it, and anyone who’s less fond of it? what actions/words does it manifest as?

q = quiet; who prefers to spend their time with their partners out and about, and who likes to spend it at home?

r = romantic; is anyone a bit of a sap for their partners?

s = sharing; is there anyone who’s particularly territorial of their partners?

t = terms of endearment; nicknames! who’s crazy on them, and who do they make cringe? what’re the go-to’s?

u = urge; who’s the most impulsive? who do they loop into their plans, and who entertains their antics?

v = vacations; how do holidays go? are they big exotic trips, or the occasional staycation?

w = worthy; how are insecurities handled? is anyone more self-conscious than the others?

x = xoxo; who checks up on their partners a lot when they’re apart? do they call, or are texts enough to make them feel close?

y = yearn; who misses their partners the easiest (ie, calls them to hear their voices when all they’ve done is run to the grocery store)?

z = zealous; who was especially eager in their pursuit of the relationship? was anyone more reserved in their want for it?

[exosalt]

THEY LOVE HIM SO MUCH

[hanafubukki]

“He’s so cute! Silver! Silver! Look!”

You and Silver were studying at a local cafè for your university exams.

Silver took a glance to the right, “That’s my dad.”

“There’s no way! He doesn’t look old at all!”

“Mhm, he gets that a lot.”

“The one next to him is cute too.”

“That’s my father.”

“Oh come on! You’re going to say the toaster is your mother next!”

Silver tapped you on the head with his pencil.

“So they are together?”

“They are not.”

You gaped at him.

Silver continued writing in his workbook.

“How?”

“It’s…complicated.”

You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t get anything beyond that with him so focused on his work.

You focused on your own.

“Soooo…do you think I still have a chance?”

You dodged the eraser sent your way, laughing at the look Silver gave you.

“Fiiinnnee~ I’ll focus.”

Silver watched as you zoned into your studies before looking at the counter where his father and dad are; you weren’t any wiser to the looks they gave you.

He sighed.

He’ll let you three handle whatever it was in the making. You were all adults.

…but he wasn’t going to call you a parent.

@coraldelusiondaze always says I have a thing for Silver’s dads and this came to mind 😂

Her video also influenced this 🤣🤣

[geekynightowl1997]

I bet the first time Nana meets Eliot- she sees the God fearing, flag wearing 18 year old boy. (The one that Eliot looks for in the mirror and can't find.) Nana doesn't see a criminal. Doesn't see a man who has blood on his hands. She doesn't see a warrior bleeding and crying out for mercy. Just a over tired, stressed, broken 18 year old- trying to prove to the world he's worth fighting for. That there's hope in saving him. Nana doesn't question Eliot's roaming eyes. Roaming eyes that are either looking for danger or looking for exits. The older woman simply smiles and pulls him to the kitchen. Makes him sit down and puts a mug of coffee near his callous hands. Nana doesn't react when she hears screams, moans, and groans at night. Nor in the morning does she make a remark about walking by the room and seeing Hardison and Parker next to Eliot on the twin bed. (Eliot is in the middle.)

I bet when Nana first meets Parker, she doesn't question her habits at all. Some how (Hardison, obviously,) has Parker's favorite candy and cereal. Some times, Parker will sit right in front of Nana with a brush and a hair tie. Nana will gently brush her hair while she plays with whatever child is in front of her. She doesn't slap Parker's hands away when she grabs extra food. And she definitely ignores seeing Parker sneaking into the room Hardison and Eliot share. (Nana saw it when they walked in- Parker feels safe with them.) In the mornings and the windows are open- she looks out to see Parker and Alec on a bedsheet curled up to each other. She smiles. Nor does she comment on missing things after they leave. Especially since a few weeks later- those things return outta the blue. Nana has no qualms when Eliot shows up with both Parker and Hardison behind him- Parker sick and Hardison injured.

"Sorry, Nana," Eliot apologizes, looking meek at coming to her place, "I can't get them to list'n. Can't get 'em to rest." And together- Nana and Eliot get the two trouble makers on the couch. She might not question the reason why Eliot showed up with the two. However she does give Eliot a sparing look. She see's the ragged, tired look. It doesn't take a whole a lot of brain power to know that the two so called trouble makers- got Eliot into the dog pile. (He was suppose to follow her into the kitchen- he didn't. She knows Parker and Hardison grabbed his wrist.) (What can anyone say? She has eyes on the back of her head.) (Eliot allows to get pulled onto the couch with only mild, gruff, complaining.) When she goes back to the living room to check on her charges- she finds Eliot in squished in the middle- being used as a pillow. (He's knocked out too.)

Nana doesn't mind Parker teaching her kids how to pick locks. Or watching Eliot teach them self- defense. She doesn't question it when she see's little four year old Becca with pig-tails- standing by the counter helping Eliot with breakfast. Nana hums when she opens the door on a Saturday morning and see's Eliot, Parker, and Hardison (though Hardison begrudgingly-) with a tool box. After all she had left a message to Alec that her sink was leaky.

Instead, she makes coffee and pulls out Parker's favorite cereal. She asks if They are staying for lunch and even dinner. Makes causal remarks about one of her more difficult children- and watches as Parker and her baby Alec go and find the kid.

None of them comment about Parker recruiting half of kids that come from Nana's house. They keep it hush- hush when neighbors stop by for a cook out. Many of the neighbors ask about the trio- and Nana only replies with a smile.

"They're my kids." She says fondly- watching as Eliot grills as Parker is poking and prodding the chef. And Alec is simply smirking as he's showing Isak how to hack.

I bet Nana treats Eliot and Parker like her family. Because they are Alec's family.

[youneedsomeprompts]

~ WE'RE A THROUPLE ~ OT3 PROMPTS

requested by: @daniacat & anonymous

Feel free to use and reblog!

A is freezing, so B & C take them in the middle to warm them

"One kiss for you, and one for you! ...Oh, and two for me!"

A & B preparing a surprise birthday party for C

A is planning their own birthday and surprises B & C that they only want to spend it with the two of them

everyone has a different responsibility for date night: A chooses the restaurant, B chooses the activity, & C chooses the dress code

A & B want them to wear matching outfits but C only has ten versions of the same outfit in their closet

"Now you two go already and have your date night! I'm fine! I finally have the couch and TV all to myself."

sitting around the kitchen table when everyone is getting home, A is making tea/coffee & everyone talks about their day

"Someone asked me today why I was living with a married couple. You should have seen their face when I told them."

A is setting up a surprise date for B & C by interrogating them separately about what they'd like to do with the other

"I asked if I could bring a plus 2 next Friday to the party. And guess what? They said yes!"

A is watching B & C having fun together and is relieved they don't have to take care of them for a moment

"Congratulations! You won not one but two crazy dorks to spend the evening with!" *B & C greeting A from the inside of their blanket fort*

"But you love us, don't you?" "Don't say that every time you made a mess!"

falling asleep together in a chaotic heap on the couch

[sparrow-in-the-field]

My disappearance from this platform to then pop up sporadically and share a New Thought about rjk is unparalleled, but at this point I'm not gonna question it...

Anyway

Love the idea of ot3 newly dating and since Roy is kind of used to "hating" Jamie, and cuz he's kind of just bad at emotions in general, sometimes when Jamie does something cute or soft or sweet that pulls at Roy's heartstrings, he doesn't know what to do, so he just turns to Keeley with a confusingly pained expression like "help."

She finds it very amusing.

For instance:

Roy going downstairs in the morning to find a very sleepy Jamie Tartt at the breakfast nook. He makes a remark like "you'd think you'd be used to waking up early after all of our training sessions."

And Jamie, messy hair in his face, cheeks swollen with sleep, eyes barely able to stay open, just mumbles "I was always tired those mornings, I just wanted to be good."

It's like a punch in the gut for Roy. The sweet sentiment of Jamie just wanting Roy to be proud of him combined with his soft sleepy features is too much. He's speechless, frozen. How the hell is he supposed to respond to that?

He turns to Keeley, who's also in the kitchen, watching the scene unfold. Makes eye contact, expression desperate. Help.

She chuckles at him, subtle enough that the still-very-out-of-it Jamie doesn't notice, and she shakes her head as she saves Roy's ass, speaking on his behalf, "That's very sweet of you, baby."

Jamie's sleepy enough he doesn't question where the praise is coming from, he's just happy to receive it. Gives a soft hum of acknowledgement and takes a sip of his tea, none the wiser to the torment he's put his boyfriend through.

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

This one’s gonna be a first to see around here but the thought struck me and I saw someone say that if Zack survived, him, Aerith and Cloud would’ve been a triad and I one thousand percent agree.

So! Zack and Aerith would dote on Cloud so fucking heavily. Not in any, outstanding, buys him gifts and whatever he pleases sort of way but just in all the small gestures they do for him.

Cause Cloud is so effortlessly thoughtful despite being so painfully awkward sometimes. He hears Aerith has run out of tampons and he goes and gets her favourite brand even though her period is still weeks out.

Zack mentions his bike is making funny noises and he’s gotta wait for the next pay check to take it to a mechanic and he’ll just go and fix it himself without prompting.

Aerith complains one time about him and Zack hogging the blankets again and Cloud wraps her in her own blanket that same night, putting Zack in the middle so he can still cuddle both of them but will only fight Cloud for the blanket since they’re the two sharing.

It’s just all these little actions that he does because he’s so endlessly caring and he doesn’t even realise it sometimes and Zack and Aerith wanna return the favour however they can. But Cloud’s so quiet and is always content to just go along with them and whatever they want.

It’s embarrassingly hard to return such thoughtless actions when Cloud usually looks after himself whenever he needs or wants something. Always putting their priories ahead of his own and thinking it too bothersome to ask anything of them.

So they dote on him in other ways. Any way they can get away with and that won’t make Cloud clam up and isolate cause he thinks he’s being too much. Which is ridiculous cause he’s quite literally dating the human embodiment of a puppy and the sun, but they’re still working on that.

So Aerith gifts him flowers. Making crowns and placing them in his hair when it’s a day he can just sit back and relax. Or tucking them away in places he can find them easy when he’s moving around their shared spaces for jobs.

Zack goes out of his way to pick up food from Cloud’s favourite Junon place every so often, always lying and saying it was on the way back so Cloud doesn’t pout at him.

They both shower him in affection near constantly, brushing fingers through his hair and placing soft kisses on his cheeks and shoulders. Wrapping arms around his waist and leaning up against him or pulling him down, into their laps and simply holding him quietly.

Sometimes they manage a gift when he’s in one of his better moods. A new set of wrenches cause he somehow lost a few in the last set. A pair of riding goggles cause when he got tossed from his bike the last pair came off and broke. A new book or some graphite pencils for him to sketch the landscapes he sees when he’s out on deliveries that take him away from them.

It’s all in the little things they do for him. Cause they love him dearly and only wish for his happiness. Cloud had lived a tough life, they all had really, but Cloud always seemed to struggle with it the most. Still woke up panting and looking around frantically without actually seeing anything.

Still looked at them with so much longing and heartache that it broke their hearts to know they were technically the reasons it was there. Still sometimes hesitated before coming to them for affection. Like he was scared they’d turn him away or disappear the second he so much as breathed on them.

So they tried to dote on him as much as they could. Tried to return his effortless care and quiet affection in any way they could manage. Just for the hope that one day he wouldn’t be quite so scared anymore. That maybe he wouldn’t hesitate in letting them know when he needed them, and just so he knew they loved him. No matter how long any of it took.

[flagbridge]

The Trio. Art by TheAbominableShowman, from Prank War: A Game of Cups (Rated E, 18+)

Love that Raoul and Erik are fully committed to the bit of their "nothing left but mouth-to-mouth combat" and Christine has not a care in the world.

[thetopichot]

There should be poly relationship between 3 people. The ones who drink tea, the ones who drink coffee, & the ones that drink hot cocoa.

Basically a grumpy, a sunshine, & a British person.

[xelasrecords]

The Oasis Is Beautiful From Up Close

Han Jumin x Reader x Kim Jihyun

NSFW

Jumin, you, and Jihyun are having an intimate photography session and fooling around because you and your lovers are no longer at death's door.

A vee polyamory in which you're romantic with Jumin and Jihyun while their relationship is platonic.

Words: 2.9k

Masterlist Read on AO3

"Hold it—yes, right there. You're lovely, my dearest," Jihyun said in a half crouch.

Your sharp gaze held the camera steady as shutter sounds filled his cluttered bedroom. He didn't set up any professional lighting and relied on the late afternoon sun to accentuate your profile. After doing a lot of shoots together, you both preferred this session to be more personal and intimate without the high-end magazine polish.

This started because you had been teasing him more than usual, after all. From not wearing a bra to flouncing about his home in a scanty dress the whole day, Jihyun's hands had been all over you until he collected himself enough to commence this photoshoot.

Jumin had also been the one to suggest you not to wear anything underneath.

They both liked what they saw and you liked being watched with unrestrained desire.

Jumin was now looming behind his best friend, clinging so close that Jihyun had to shift him bodily away. It didn't matter though. He would just glue himself back to Jihyun's side. He needed to learn everything there was to know about modelling photography or he would be cursed in not being able to capture his beloved's beauty.

He had repeated this more times than you could be bothered to count.

When Jihyun accidentally knocked his elbow into Jumin for the third time, you decided to put an end to Jihyun's suffering. Jumin's ribs would live to see another day, but you weren't sure if you would at the rate this photoshoot was going. "Jumin, do you want to take a picture of my corpse?"

Jumin gave you an incredulous look. "Why would I ever dream of doing that?"

"That would happen if you don't let Jihyun take good pictures of me. I'm rotting here. Rotting."

His brows furrowed and he lifted your arms and twisted your head side to side. "No, you're not. You're perfectly alive. And beautiful."

"Jumin, could you please move aside? You're covering her whole body." Jihyun's voice wafted from behind.

Jumin uttered an apology and swiftly assumed his original position beside Jihyun. He studied Jihyun's laid-back stance, the camera's distance from his body, and the firmness of his grip, and mimicked him with stiff precision. "So that is how you take a good shot," he murmured.

You rolled your eyes and laughed. It was impossible to be annoyed at him when his curiosity about mundane things kicked in. You struck another pose, looking over your shoulder with your back turned to them. You tried to compose yourself, but the sight of Jumin suspended in a robotic half-crouch was so absurd that you had to cover your smile with your arm.

"Jihyun isn't crouching anymore, you know."

Jumin's hands didn't fall away from his phantom camera, fingers crooked to form a perfect rectangle. "But he was when he took the previous shot."

In a minuscule gesture at Jihyun, you motioned your head towards Jumin.

A childlike grin bloomed across Jihyun's face. He directed his camera on Jumin's trembling body and clicked the shutter button.

Jumin blinked at him. "Isn't she the muse of the day?" he asked, still retaining the same posture.

"You're much more entertaining to shoot than me," you chirped.

Jihyun let out an airy chuckle. "I'm giving her a break. Perhaps you want to take the spotlight while she's resting?"

"She's supposed to be the model of the day."

You looked pointedly at his bent legs then glanced at Jihyun, who only shook his head in resignation. You pressed your mouth before laughter escaped you and posed again. Jumin's eyes flitted back and forth, trying to comprehend what had passed between you and Jihyun.

You shrugged and blew a kiss at him, mouthing I love you, and Jihyun captured your gesture. When he approached you to take a close-up shot of your face, Jumin inched closer as well. He was so desperate to take a peek at the viewfinder that he butted heads with Jihyun.

Jihyun yelped and rubbed at his temple. "Sometimes it feels as if I have adopted a koala who can't let go of me," he said, albeit with a smile.

"You feed him with too much patience."

"Would you two stop bad-mouthing my effort in taking focused shots of you? This is unacceptable. What have I done to withstand this slander? You should be more understanding of my love." Jumin huffed out his suit jacket and crossed his arms with a dramatic flair. "And I would make an adorable koala."

You placed Jumin's hand on your waist and he drew you in by habit. "Our next photoshoot can be of you in a koala costume." You tickled his chin.

"We have been very understanding of you, my friend." Jihyun clapped a hand on his shoulder. "No professional photographer or model would want their session to be obstructed."

"And yet here you are, still alive and breathing in this room." You winked. "Aren't we generous?"

Jumin scoffed. "Do you suppose I should be alive and breathing somewhere else?"

You planted a kiss on his lips. "We want you here."

Not a moment later, you felt his fingers weaving into your hair, tugging at it with pleasurable force. You pushed your body up against him when you heard zooming and clicking sounds from Jihyun. Jumin ran his thumb across your shoulder and slowly dragged the strap of your silk dress down, humming in affirmation. You gasped as he trailed kisses down your neck and sucked at the skin on your collarbone.

In the haze of it, you blindly grabbed at Jihyun's shirt. He complied without resistance and positioned himself behind you. You slumped against him, indulging in the warmth of their bodies enveloping you. You could feel them everywhere; Jihyun was tucking your hair aside to kiss a sensitive spot behind your ear, while Jumin's hand had crawled up your inner thigh and was sliding his fingers into you.

You reached up for Jihyun, and his lips were on yours in an instant. It was a soft nip in the beginning, searching for your permission, and you gladly let him in. He deepened the kiss and your hips bucked against Jumin's fingers, earning a chuckle from him.

With his other hand, Jumin took the camera from Jihyun, freeing him to use both hands to roam across your breasts. Then slowly, Jumin pulled out his fingers and brushed them against your swollen lips. You sucked on them without a word, keeping your gaze on him the whole time while you swirled your tongue around his fingers. You knew he liked seeing you like this, knew what he was imagining you doing instead.

You wanted to turn around to face Jihyun, but Jumin stopped you. "Don't move. I want to immortalise you in this state. The lust in your expression is terribly tempting." He smiled at you and stepped back. "Jihyun, wrap one arm around her and cradle her face with your free hand. Show her off to me."

"He is strangely good at directing," you murmured into Jihyun's ear.

"It's hardly strange when a huge part of his job is telling people what to do." Jihyun obeyed Jumin's directions and pulled you closer. His touch was exhilarating, and the thrill rose exponentially when you noticed Jumin's satisfaction.

"Fortunately for the two of you, you get off on being told what to do," said Jumin who had an acute sense of hearing when it concerned Jihyun's and your opinions.

You smirked. He did always know you well.

Jihyun kissed your temple. You leaned your head against his chest and his hand snaked up your neck and rested on your jaw. You parted your lips, sucking in a breath, and pushed out your chest until your rumpled dress almost exposed your body.

"You can take a photo now," said Jihyun.

Jumin bent forward at a lower angle than was probably necessary, and clicked the shutter button with a palpable jolt that reverberated throughout his limbs. You raised your eyebrows and Jihyun tilted his head in question.

Then, Jumin had the audacity to look shocked at the brief preview on the camera screen.

Disbelief passed across his features as he fell back onto the bed.

You suppressed your smile and sat beside him with Jihyun in tow. The said bed was really a mattress strewn across the hardwood floor with swathes of blankets thrown atop it. Jumin had not given up on coaxing Jihyun to buy a proper bedframe, but you had.

Whatever floated his boat into dreamland.

"Let me see," you said.

Jumin scrunched his nose and zoomed into the picture. "Your nose and lips are clear. Not so much of your eyes, or even your hair. But Jihyun is a blur."

"Fitting." You looked deep in thought. "You know how hard it is to comprehend his essence as a whole."

"My essence?" Jihyun's response came out bewildered.

Jumin folded the heap of blankets so Jihyun wasn't constantly shifting in place, but Jihyun just draped it back around Jumin. Knowing that his body ran colder than the rest of you, you were touched that Jihyun was thoughtful to this degree. He had always been. It was one of the many qualities you liked from him.

"Please don't theorise. This isn't an art piece up for discussion," said Jumin.

"I'm simply giving you a leeway to rationalise your mistake," you said, sitting sideways in Jihyun's lap. He was still looking at you quizzically, but he placed his hand on the top of your thigh and squeezed it.

It sent a buzz of current throughout your skin and you shivered.

"I will do better." Jumin sighed. "Someday I will master Jihyun's photography skills and finally deserve your compliments."

You ran your hand through his tousled black hair. "You take good enough pictures."

"I'm aware that I have not been able to capture all your facial features in one shot."

"My nose was quite pretty in the one you took yesterday."

"That was the only visible thing in the photo."

"You have humbled him." Jihyun chuckled. "He was never this receptive of his photography flaws. I had given up and chosen to keep the blurred Elizabeth the Third pictures to myself. It's the intention that matters, after all."

"Intention must translate into execution," Jumin insisted. "It's imperative that I practice as much as I can."

"Today's picture is already an improvement." You climbed out of Jihyun's lap and lay on the bed. "Come, I've missed you two." You patted the space on your sides.

Jihyun flung himself on the mattress with a soft thud, arms out wide, and your body bounced on impact. You laughed and wormed into his embrace. The golden rays from outside the window fell on just the right places: his lush turquoise hair, the delicate arch of his nose, and his pale, pale skin so thin that you could easily discern the blue veins running below.

You had to convince yourself that he was healthy. He was all right. All of you were finally happy.

His blood was no longer shed on skirmish grounds. He could finally exist without having to fight for his right to be. Jumin did not have to uphold Jihyun's reason to live anymore, because he had found many reasons to.

Or maybe there were only two. But that was enough.

He gleamed now, instead of being swallowed by the light. He was wholly, completely Jihyun.

Jumin knelt on the mattress and looked down at you with tenderness so sincere that your heart clenched. "How long I have waited for this moment," he said, his slender fingers lightly dancing along your cheek.

"It has been months, but I still can't believe our dream could be a reality." You kissed the inside of his wrist, letting your lips linger on the small of his skin where his pulse beat. "It had seemed like a foolish delusion then, but now I get to relax with you without anything weighing my mind. Sometimes I'm afraid I'm missing something crucial and hell will be unleashed upon us again before we're ready."

"You can believe it now. Both of you have fought so hard," said Jihyun. "We're safe, and no one is in danger. Especially not me," he added, and winced. "I know I have been the source of all your headaches."

"No use dwelling on something we have forgiven you for." Jumin seized Jihyun's wrist. "But I would prefer it if you don't attempt another martyrdom. No more in-fighting. No more battling against rogue ministers and cult leaders. Not if I can help it." Seeing Jihyun about to protest, he cut in. "You have used up your apologies for this month. Don't you dare try."

Jihyun obediently shut his mouth.

All of you had lost too much to go through another wave of apocalypse. RFA almost disbanded and you carried the guilt everywhere for not being able to keep them together. C&R nearly went down, crushed under the weight of false accusations, dragging Jumin with it. Jihyun would never redeem himself back in Rika's eyes, but she came out alive and was in a hospital far away. Lost affection was better than a life lost.

Every day, the three of you help each other to live. One day, then another, then another. Nightmares still came, but at least they didn't come true anymore.

You hoped they wouldn't.

The security that came with freedom was hard-won. You didn't intend to lose it again.

On that note, having security also meant you were free to throw bizarre questions out there.

"I have a riddle," you blurted.

Synchronised groans came from both of them.

"It seems we're about to be tortured," Jumin said.

"Perhaps she will have mercy on us this time," suggested Jihyun.

Putting on the most earnest expression you could muster, you turned to Jihyun. "Who would you choose if you could only save one of us?"

Jihyun's eyes grew wide and Jumin exclaimed, "Why would you do that to him?"

You shrugged. "Too simple? I'll add more details to the scene."

"You possess a hidden sadistic desire," said Jumin.

Jihyun laughed. "All right, let's hear it out."

"Jumin drives us into a lake and the car is rapidly sinking, but you only have the strength to save one of us. Who would you choose?"

Jumin sat up straight and pointed at her accusingly. "That is a mockery of my driving skill," he said. "Though I admit I'm also curious to hear Jihyun's answer."

Both of you faced Jihyun with glimmering, hopeful eyes.

"I'd rather go with you both," he finally said. "I don't want to live a life without you."

That was a sly tactic to divert the talk to a solemn reflection. You wouldn't have it. He had to give a satisfying response or you would grill him until night arrived.

"But by doing so, you would lose our single chance to live."

"Save her." Jumin—that bastard—took pity on him instead of taking your side. "That would be the right course to take if I was the cause of our fictional death. One must keep a clear head when danger is imminent. Be logical."

You glared at him and whispered to Jihyun on a decibel where it shouldn't be called a whisper, "He's calling you stupid. Just sacrifice him."

"But he's right," Jihyun said. "I tend to use my heart over my head when someone needs me."

"This is why you're easy to tease." You sighed. "So, who's your heart calling for?"

"We all know he loves you, as do I. We would work together to save you," Jumin said, and Jihyun nodded with much eagerness.

You sputtered and scrambled out of Jihyun's arm. Curse their unwavering connection from being intricately intertwined since they were young. Served you right for loving two best friends who had been more than willing to present themselves as the sacrificial lamb to save your life.

"I get no say about my life or death?"

"You already handed over your choice to Jihyun. Now we will do as we see fit." Jumin was suspiciously smug when he declared it.

You swatted his shoulder without exerting any real strength. "You always find a way to cheat the system."

"It's not cheating if you never explicitly stated the rules and presented them with numerous loopholes."

You threw your hand against your forehead in the style of a faint-hearted Victorian lady receiving the most grievous news and tossed yourself back on the bed. "I have lost interest in this game."

"Some ideas are most poisonous to their creators." Jihyun chuckled, and put your hand away.

Unlike with Jumin, you found it harder to shoot antagonistic glares at Jihyun. Unlike Jumin, it was not in his nature to prod at you and challenge you into debates for mental stimulation. Unlike Jumin, he relented without much fight so it would only make you feel worse for teasing him too much.

Bickering with Jumin was a recreational activity, but it would be akin to kicking a wounded puppy if you did it to Jihyun.

"I hate it when you two join forces. I can never win against you," you grumbled.

Laughing, Jihyun kissed you and laced his fingers with yours. You held it against your stomach, deep gratitude washing over your heart. Jumin tipped up your chin, brushing flyaway strands from your face and smiled down at you.

Their touches, their gazes, they all confessed the same thing—something that existed between the three of you like it was the fundamental truth of the universe. A baby fresh out of the womb didn't need to be taught to breathe and cry. You didn't need to ask what it was. You didn't even hesitate.

Finally, you thought. No more wondering if tomorrow would come. You were loved and were fortunate enough to live out this life with them.

There would always be more days.

-

Footnotes:

-The second half of this fic is inspired by the exchange between grieving Jihyun and MC from All That Is Lost that didn't make the cut:

"I doubt he could do it if he were told to choose to save only one of us."

"Dear Lord, Jihyun." She laughed with tears in her eyes. "Let's not put him through more suffering."

I took out the grief and repurposed it into something lighter. You're welcome.

-This is my first romcom of the year and my first romantic smut ever!! I thought depression had stolen my motivation to write happy things, but turns out, I can still claw my way back here. It had been a healing process to write this. For the first time since I started here 2 years ago, I didn't worry about whether it's good enough. I just put myself in their headspace and found my joy in writing again.

-Every time I write a bubbly romance I imagine snatching these characters away from the torment of their routes and plopping them into a utopia where nothing bad can touch them.

Header Corner:

Since this fic has both mature themes and playful conversations, I thought a mixed media style would be perfect to convey these elements. Then, I used velvet purple tones with a pop of yellow and comic speech bubbles to further strengthen the concept.

A quick process overlook!

Buy me a glass of something that’s definitely not coffee because I can’t stand it but it is the website’s name if my story touches you in some way? No worries if you don’t. I’m still grateful you’ve read all the way through here.

[scealaiscoite]

ೃ༄ domestic poly prompts ˚◞♡ ⃗

— “okay, which one of you drank the last of my coffee?!”

— “three other people in this house and not one of you knows how to pick your socks up off the floor!”

— “y’know, the idea of a cuddle pile is that it’s relaxing- so whoever’s got their elbow in my side has like ten seconds to move it, or i’m toppling us all over.”

— “we need a bigger shower.”₁ “or, we could just stop showering togeth- “₂ “hey, hey, let’s not get too extreme!”₃

— “yes the both of you look adorable, but can i please have my clothes back now?”

— “which one of you idiots is warming their icy little feet on me?! you need to get that checked!”

— “can we please go back to picking the film for movie night at random? i can’t take another week of fight club and the notebook.”

— “don’t tell the others, but i love your cooking the most.”

— “look, this isn’t going to work if we all don’t want to be the one to kill the spiders!”

— “do any of the clothes you’re wearing belong to you?!”

[liketheshygirl]

Kal Ho Naa Ho (2003)

It's been a while since I've written something but I didn't like the last half hour of the movie and these 3 deserved a happy ending together.

Here´s the link. It has 3 chapters and it's already finished.

Hope at least one person enjoys it <3

[bihansthot]

Hello again, sorry for bothering you again. I know it is early in the morning, and your not open for requests. This is an idea if your interested. This can be a pairing of Bi-Han x Syzoth, or Fem reader x Syzoth x Bi- han.

~~~~~~~~~~

Scenario:

Syzoth is sick due to the cold, or constantly being out in the bad snowy weather. Since he's been hanging out with the cryo mancer alot. Mabey he tried to hide that the cold bothers him since he's a zetarian? They most likely know and he was unaware they knew. The problem at hand is that he's very sick and keeps going to see Bi-Han, despite told not to. Bi-Han concerned about his well being and annoyed he doesn't rest.

~~~~~~~~~~

just something wholesome. Again, you don't need to write this, just an idea ^^. I love your stories btw UwU.

Here’s a little something :3

“Sy, you need to rest, you’re too cold,” Bi-Han gives his boyfriend a stern gaze as he catches the Zaterran outside again.

“I’m not made of glass Bi-Han, I-I’m f-fine, I-I wanted to check on y-you and the s-s-s-students,” he chatters, obviously bothered by the cold temperatures of the Lin Kuei Temple.

“Is that why you’re stuttering and stumbling with your words? I can hear your teeth chattering from here Sy, you’re being ridiculous, go back to my room and warm up,” Bi-Han all but demands.

“I-I’m not g-going to get used to the cold if I’m never in it,” Syzoth argues, pulling his robes around him tighter.

“You’re never going to get used to it! You’re cold-blooded Sy! It’s your biology, you can’t help it any more than I can help being a cryomancer, this is so fucking stupid. Obey your Grandmaster,” Bi-Han all but shouts at his poor, chilled boyfriend.

“You’re my boyfriend, not my G-grandmaster B-Bi-Han,” Syzoth hisses in annoyance at his lover’s arrogance and temper.

Bi-Han sighs his shoulders lowering slightly, “I-you’re right, I’m sorry Sy, I’m just worried about you, you aren’t made for his weather and it worries me, please go back to my room and warm yourself? For me?”

“Fine,” Syzoth sulks and turns to leave, dragging his feet through the snow, he had just come outside to spend time with Bi-Han, not to be scolded by him.

“Sy are you ok?” You ask when the Zaterran enters the room unexpectedly, you get up from your cozy seat by the fire to check on him when you see how flushed his nose and cheeks are.

“I’m fine sunshine, I just, Bi-Han doesn’t get it, I’m a warrior too, I should be out there helping train the new initiates not stuck inside reading your human books or browsing TikTok,” he sulks as he makes himself comfortable by the fire, secretly desperate to warm himself.

“Sy, he’s just worried about you, he just does a shitty job of showing it, do you know why he’s so worried?” You ask joining him in his nest on the floor, wrapping your warm body around his to help warm him faster.

“Why?” He sulks, reluctantly nuzzling back into your warmth, and can’t help but make a happy little chirp.

“He cares about you, like really and truly, if he didn’t he wouldn’t care if you were out in the cold, he’s trying to take care of you in his own way. He knows you and I aren’t built for the harshness of Arctika’s winters, it’s too much for us to handle, he just wants you to be warm and safe, it’s not that he doesn’t know you’re a capable warrior. He knows that, believe me, he just wants to keep you safe because he loves you, even if he’s not ready to say it yet,” you reassure the Zaterran, stroking his short brown hair as he curls into your warmth.

“He does? Well I mean, of course I know he cares about me, he wouldn’t let me stay with the two of you if he didn’t, at least I don’t think he would,” Syzoth perks up a bit at your words.

“He definitely wouldn’t let you stay here or let you near me, or let you near him for that matter if that wasn’t true, he just wants you warm and safe,” you let him know.

“Qīn? Sy? Are you here?” Bi-Han calls as the door opens and a rush of cold air pours in causing you and Syzoth to shiver slightly.

You can’t tell if Bi-Han let the outside wind in or if it was the temperature drop he encompassed, “we’re here, under the blankets,” you answer Bi-Han as you poke your head out of the blanket pile.

“Are you two keeping warm?” He asks kneeling down next to you to press his icy lips to your forehead.

“I’m pretty toasty, yeah, how are you Sy?” You ask the Zaterran, giving him a light shove silently encouraging him to apologize to your Polar Bear.

“I’m,” he pauses to sigh, “I’m much better now, I’m sorry Bi-Han, I should have listened to you, it’s too cold out for me.”

“Damn right it is, the two of you need to stay inside where it’s warm, you damn near gave me a heart attack Sy, you were turning blue, I was going to carry you inside if you kept ignoring me,” Bi-Han scolds softly. “I-I have to apologize too, I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I just get so worried about you, about both of you, that sometimes I lose my head,” he admits sheepishly.

Sy presses a kiss to Bi-Han’s chilled cheek, “we both messed up, but I forgive you.”

“Did you boys kiss and make up now?” You smile knowingly pleased at the surprising maturity from Bi-Han, it wasn’t often he’d actually admit to making a mistake.

Bi-Han pulls Syzoth into his lap, wrapping his cold arms around the Zaterran, pressing open-mouth kisses to his neck, “I think so, but maybe we should kiss more, just to be safe.”

An excited shiver runs through Syzoth and he chirps happily, “I think we probably should,” he answers pulling you over to the two of you.

You just giggle as you’re pulled into a sloppy three-way kiss, life is perfect sometimes, and you couldn’t be happier today was one of those days.

[redroomroaving]

The Rivington Three (Geraldus x Donnick x Klaus, E)

Geraldus and Donnick have grown up together in the streets of Rivington, sharing dreams and firsts, as their paths take them to the halls of Ilmater and the ranks of the Harpers.

The circus has moved in next door to the temple; and Klaus struck up a friendship with the monk of Ilmater. Three, joined by having their worlds upturned by the arrival of shapeshifting dopplegangers, come together.

(Short vignette of the Rivington boys, childhood friends to lovers, OT3 vibes. Mirrored on Ao3 here. With thanks to the wonderful @n1ghtmeri and @benicemurphy for fuelling this one.)

“You should put them back,” Geraldus says, his voice coming out as barely above a whisper - watching the boys sharing their spoils, unpeeling one of the stolen oranges with eager fingers.

“Should we?” One of the boys says, jabbing a finger, sticky with citrus already, into his chest, “why?”

Geraldus knows why, already, but as he looks up at them - swallowing and nervous - he wonders why they don’t understand what they’ve done is wrong.

“It’s stealing,” he says, finding his bravery a little now, trying to stand a little taller.

He wishes he was tall, like his brothers - so he could loom over them - instead of feeling so small.

His mother promises it’ll happen for him, too, the growth spurt that inevitably strikes all of the Rivers boys - but it hasn’t happened yet.

“People - people need those -” he tries to explain, gripping his fingers into tight fists at his side, “you can’t just take them.”

The boys look between each other a moment, and laugh; snorting and cruel, dismissive.

“Put them back,” he tries again, louder now.

“Or what?” The boy says, grinning at him with teeth coated with the juice of the stolen fruit, “you’ll cry some more?”

Geraldus feels himself flinch; feels his cheeks begin to burn, and the prickle of tears, almost immediate and shameful, at his eyes - before he can stop them.

“N-no-”

“He’s crying already,” the other boy jeers, stepping forward, too - and Geraldus realises he’s outnumbered and small. He’s powerless to stop them, however much he wants to.

“He’s right,” a voice interrupts - a hand reaching out and pushing away that sticky finger, jabbed into his chest, and another steps in front of him, “it’s theft.”

Geraldus doesn’t know this boy; he’s a little taller than him, and he turns back to him for just a moment to flash him a quick, reassuring smile.

He’s got blonde hair, in tight curls, and hazel eyes - like Geraldus’, but a little darker - and Geraldus thinks for a moment that he looks a bit like an angel, which is a silly thought, but as he blinks away the freshly forming tears, he smiles back.

The boys seem less sure of themselves now, a quick, hesitating glance shared between them.

“C’mon Donny,” the first says, “it’s just a few oranges…”

But the blonde boy folds his arms, and tilts his head, and Geraldus realises quickly that they’re a bit scared of him from the way they shy back.

“Put ‘em back and apologise,” he says, squaring up a bit more, “or I’ll make you.”

Geraldus finds his chest filling up with fluttering as the boys slink away, and the blonde boy turns to him, grabbing his arm with a grin.

“Let’s make sure they do,” he says as he drags him along with him, and they walk, together, to make them return every orange to the merchant’s cart.

He’s proud as the merchant thanks them both, and calls them brave for standing up to them.

“I’m Donnick,” the blonde says as they tread the muddy path back up the hill, “you’re one of the Rivers family, right? Your mother bought the old Miller’s farm?”

Geraldus nods.

“Geraldus,” says.

Donnick repeats his name, to remember it.

–

They’re inseparable, after; hours spent clambering around the hills and cliffsides whilst Geraldus picks flowers, a pleasure he doesn’t need to hide from Donnick as he gathers up clusters of wild garlic and lavender and thyme to cook with in turn.

They skip rocks across the water, and talk about who they want to be.

Donnick’s not quite sure, yet, but he knows he wants to help people. It’s why he likes to cook.

He helps Geraldus’ mother to bake loaves and takes them to the Temple of Ilmater - where he watches the monks help a man, starving and broken, up the steps to safety. A tall man with dark greying hair, Father Lorgan, ushers words of comfort; promises to bear the burden of the injured man’s suffering.

Lorgan thanks Donnick for the bread with a smile, and Donnick starts to see a future taking shape.

Geraldus isn’t sure either; he wants to help people, but as he watches Donnick poring through the pages of the Temple’s teachings - he isn’t sure this is the sort of place where his future lies.

He picks through the brush of the cliffside as Donnick trails behind, reading, following the trodden trail with steady feet, and breathes in the salt in the air.

He looks down across the shimmering water - and wonders where it is he’s supposed to go. Where he’s supposed to help.

–

They share their firsts; fingers knotted together in the field behind Geraldus’ farmstead; Donnick’s bright hazel eyes tentatively flitting across Geraldus’ own, glancing at his lips, unsure.

Geraldus knows his face is red as he nods, inviting permission.

Donnick clears the space - his lips brushing against Geraldus’, barely more than a touch, but warm. Soft.

Geraldus swallows as their eyes meet again.

Not so scary, afterall; sharing a kiss.

He leans in this time - bringing their lips together again - a fumbling, novice attempt, but he parts his lips with his tongue, and deepens it.

Donnick tastes sweet - of the blackberries they had stolen from the kitchen - and his fingers dig into Geraldus’ hand as their tongues tangle together, hot, hurried, eager.

They part, and he smiles. His smile is as bright as the sky above, and crackling with excitement. The sun catches his hair, casting the gold curls almost copper where the light hits.

No. Not so scary at all, Geraldus thinks, as he kisses him again.

–

In the confines of his cramped, dark room, Donnick’s hair falls across his face. It is getting longer and longer now. He looks down at him with those same hesitant eyes - asking permission again.

“We don’t have to - if you’ve changed your mind-” he starts to say, but Geraldus cuts him short, leaning up to kiss his worry silent.

They’d made it this far, afterall; naked, and terrified. He’s shaking he’s so nervous.

“I want it to be you,” he says, searching Donnick’s eyes, and hoping he still feels the same way.

Donnick’s smile is small now.

“Me too,” he says.

He’s gentle as he slides his fingers across him, taking Geraldus’ length into his hands and kissing him as he touches him like this for the first time.

No longer just hurried kisses and bodies pressed together in artless thrusts through their clothes; this was real. This time there was no turning back.

Geraldus cries out as he presses into him, slow, and tentative.

Donnick kisses his shoulder, reassuring, keeping their fingers tightly laced.

“Tell me if it hurts, ok?” He asks, as he thrusts a little deeper. Geraldus feels the sting of it, but he nods, pressing his forehead against Donnick’s, closing his eyes.

It is hurried thrusts; breathless kisses, dotted against his lips in reassurance as Donnick comes slowly undone in him, finally crumbling with a whimper buried into Geraldus’ hair.

–

It gets easier, after the first time. Geraldus bites down on Donnick’s forearm, to keep silent - to make sure they don’t wake his brothers through the thin walls - as Donnick grips his thighs and bucks into him in deep, eager thrusts.

He’s strong; his grip around Geraldus’ cock firm as he brings him over with him; matching the circling of their hips, drawing the pleasure higher, higher until Geraldus’ teeth are digging into his arm hard - his cry dying against his forearm as he spills across his hand.

The sting - the welcome pain of his teeth a ripple through Donnick - as he lets go, pulling free of Geraldus to release across the bed with a moan.

In the dark they lie together; skin damp with sweat, finding their breath again. Donnick pushes a lock of Geraldus’ hair - dark, soft, beautiful - his beauty growing deeper every year to match - back from his eyes.

They love each other; they have for years now - but Donnick wonders, in these snatched moments, as the heat cools between them, if he’s in love with him too.

Maybe he is.

–

They sit together, a moment, in silence; Geraldus’ fingertips hovering over the fresh skin on Donnick’s back - the scars there just barely healed, red, sore, in furious lines across his flesh.

He hesitates.

“I -'' there were so many of them; so many marks across Donnick’s shoulders, his spine, and bruises, too, around his wrists - where they had been tightly bound.

He has survived his First Suffering, and Geraldus doesn’t truly know what that means.

“Why?” Geraldus asks, when the right words for his feelings fail him.

Donnick looks at the wall ahead, something shifted in his eyes, something harder now.

“We must learn to endure,” he says, “to take suffering onto ourselves, so we can understand it. So we can suffer for them, until … until we can bear even a fraction of their burden.”

Something has changed. Donnick has changed.

Geraldus can see it in him; in the squaring of his shoulders, the flint in his gaze, the conviction laced through his words. In his First Suffering he has found purpose. He has found something in himself too.

Geraldus lets his fingers brush against the skin, feels the heat of those freshly healed wounds against his fingertips, burning. Donnick lets out a small rasp at the cool of his touch, wincing slightly.

“Are you going to do it?” Donnick asks him, as he pulls his vestments back over his shoulders.

Geraldus watches him quietly, eyes focusing on the small crest he pulls back out from where it is tucked under his collar, to display it proudly on his chest again. The white hands of Ilmater, wrapped in red rope.

Geraldus thinks instead of White Harps, painted on wood in just the same way, creaking as it sways in the wind - and within - the Finders song, gentle and melodic, echoed; a foggy memory that persisted from his early years in the Dalelands.

His jaw still aches from where he had struck him; the thief - after he had chased him through the throngs of the crowd - tackling him to the floor.

As the man had struggled against him, scraping and scrabbling against his grip - catching his cheek with a blow - Geraldus had held firm. He was no scrawny child anymore. He was tall, and fast, and strong.

A man in armour, with a Harp pinned on his chest, had helped him to bring the thief to the guards. He’d called him brave, and Geraldus had remembered the last time he’d felt the glow of pride, from that same word.

He wanted to be brave.

Geraldus nods, trying to find a bit of that same resolve in his own chest. He’s going to be a Harper.

“I’m signing up,” he says, determined, “tomorrow.”

Donnick reaches across, his fingers lingering for a moment on the already forming bruise on his jaw, the split cut of his lip - his expression quiet, and curious.

“Does it hurt?”

Geraldus gives him a small, weak smile.

“Yes,” he says.

Donnick leans across, and kisses him; and it stings a little, against his lips.

–

After Geraldus leaves on his first assignment, it’s months before Donnick realises how lonely he is; filling his time with his new duties, with feeding the hungry, with clearing the vestries and learning the words. Training his body, his mind, to swallow suffering.

He thinks about his friend as he lies in the dark, night after night. He hasn’t had a letter from him in a long time now.

He hopes desperately that he’s safe - tries not to imagine the dangers that Geraldus might have discovered in his new duties. He’s brave; he reminds himself, thinking of Geraldus’ bright smile, his beautiful eyes.

He’s stronger than he seems.

He misses him. Outside of their duties, his brethren speak of little; he finds himself wishing he had someone to speak to again about things other than Ilmater.

He wakes one morning to his brothers and sisters, whispering in the yard; the land beside the temple, which has been empty and closed up for so long, is suddenly teeming with life.

“A circus?” Brother Bill whispers, disapproving, “right here?”

His eyes wider still as he sees the cages being wheeled in; sees the flying, winged imp and the small kobold among them.

“A circus of monsters?” Bill adds, horrified.

“Monsters and men,” Father Lorgan corrects, and suggests perhaps they ought to befriend their new neighbours as they’ll be sharing a fence.

Donnick brings the loaves and a pot of chowder; struggling a little to make his way through the bustle as the circus takes shape before his eyes, a flurry of movement and construction, setting up tents and building structures.

It’s hard to find where he might start, eyes tracing across unfamiliar creatures, humanoid and otherwise in form - until a figure cuts through the crowd, a bright smile and a shock of scarlet hair.

“Need a hand?” He asks, brightly, quickly helping to take the weight of the pot, “I see you’ve brought us food?”

Donnick nods, grateful for a friendly face. It’s certainly that; he’s handsome, eyelids adorned in sparkling red to match the vibrant colours streaked through his hair.

“A … welcome, I guess,” he offers, smiling back.

“Gratefully received,” the scarlet-haired man says, that bright smile growing wider still, “I’m sure we’re not necessarily welcome guests. Most people aren’t thrilled when the minstrels move in next door.”

Donnick shoots him a sheepish smile; true enough.

“You’re welcome to me,” he says, adding, a little blunt, “people are getting sour - we could do with a bit of laughter around here.”

The man’s eyes linger on him, a little glimmer in them as they cast over him quickly.

“An Ilmatari from the temple,” the red-haired man assumes correctly, and gestures, “it’s a beautiful building; I’ve seen a lot of smoke rising - do you have a bonfire, within?”

Donnick nods.

“In the courtyard,” he says, “we keep it fed all the time, in case someone needs warmth.”

“Hmm,” the man considers this, as he helps him carry his offerings to a table, “I’d like to see that.”

He offers a hand.

“Klaus,” he says.

“Donnick,” Donnick replies.

–

Donnick is still trying to scrub the last of the blood from the floorboards - the stains stubborn and soaked into the wood - when he hears the hurried footsteps approaching.

He looks up, barely has time to register that it’s Geraldus before he clears the room, collapsing at his side on the ground and throwing his arms around him, a tight and desperate embrace.

Donnick pulls him into his arms, feeling him shake there, chest breaking into deep, heaving sobs.

He holds him there and lets him cry; stroking his fingers through his hair as he does, and wonders what has happened.

He didn’t even know he was back in the city; but his chest is aching, ribs pulling apart as he holds him there - the wash of deep relief and the joy of seeing him again drowned beneath his worry.

“They’re all dead,” Geraldus whispers into his shoulder, between sobs, “they’re all dead but me.”

Donnick takes in a few deep breaths; thinking of the stink of blood, still lingering in his nostrils no matter how much he cleans, of Father Lorgan’s body, and swallows.

He knows before Geraldus even needs to say that this is the same; what has happened to him, it’s part of this, too.

He presses a kiss to his hair. It doesn’t matter that it’s been months. It doesn’t matter that they’re not lovers - not really - he offers him love, all the same.

“It’s ok,” he says, “you’re safe.”

Geraldus shakes his head.

“We’re not safe,” he says, “none of us are safe.”

–

“I’m sorry,” Donnick says, watching Geraldus lying there, finally sleeping - exhausted from crying - amongst the pillows and blankets of Klaus’ small tent, “I wasn’t sure where else to take him..”

The Temple is no longer a sanctuary for those in need; its doors no longer open. The notches across his knuckles sting, the frustration he has been throwing at the training dummy in the yard written in his singing limbs.

“It’s ok,” Klaus replies, pressing a cup into his hands - it is a cup of tea, steaming. The heat pouring through the clay settles into his aching fingers, easing. He smiles at him - realising this is why this had been offered - even though he hadn’t asked for it.

Klaus settles next to him, contemplating the figure.

“Bloody dopplegangers,” he says, after a moment, because in a way there’s nothing else to say.

Donnick nods, and lets himself lean against Klaus’ shoulder, grateful. He realises, as he leans into him, that he should have come to him sooner.

Klaus reaches, carefully, to circle a hand around him, pulling him closer.

“I’m sorry about Lorgan,” he says.

“I’m sorry about Dribbles,” Donnick replies.

Klaus takes in a deep breath, tilts his head, just a little, into him, and Donnick feels the shiver as his breath catches against his neck.

“He’s not going to be ok for a while,” Klaus says against his neck, “that’s … what happened, that’s … more than anyone should have to endure.”

Donnick nods. He knows a little about enduring, now.

“I’m not sure any of us are going to be,” he says, “Bill’s already talking about how Lorgan’s teachings died with him.”

Klaus lets out a frustrated, but not surprised, sort of sigh.

“Bill’s a bastard,” he says.

Donnick nods.

They sit together, for a moment; and Geraldus lets out a little sound in his sleep, turning, his brows drawn together in anguish, a whimper, pained, in his throat. His dreams are no escape, Donnick thinks, from his waking horrors.

“We’ll help him together,” Klaus says, watching him too, “ok?”

–

Geraldus wants to get back to the hunt - wants to prove he’s a Harper still - and his frustration is palpable as he’s stuck in place.

“I know,” Klaus says, as brushes his fingers through his hair, gently pulling it into plaits, just like Donnick used to do when they were younger, “but the High Harper is right. You need to be ready.”

“I am ready,” Geraldus counters.

He’s still unsure about this new figure, feeling a bristle of unfamiliarity at his presence, but it’s fading quickly. Klaus doesn’t look at him like he’ll break - like Donnick does - and he gives him things to do with his anxious hands.

Geraldus unpicks the knotted chains in his hand, untangling them as Klaus works on his hair. His fingertips brushing the nape of his neck a moment as he pins it up into a tight bun.

Donnick is back in the temple, making more supplies for the soup kitchen, even as his brothers and sisters try to keep their doors shut.

“Maybe you are,” Klaus says, considering, “but if you’re not - are you sure you can live with that? If you failed, when the moment came?”

Geraldus feels his heart heave; the realisation, miserable, in his chest, that Klaus is right. He can’t fail. He can’t let anyone else die for him.

He is crying, again, before he can stop it. He hates it, that he can’t seem to stop; that it keeps breaking through him, like he’s that scared child trying so hard to be brave again.

“I… I want to be brave…” he says, trying to stop the tears from falling.

Klaus crawls round in front of him, taking him in a moment, and reaching up to blot at his tears with the corner of a velvet sleeve.

“Brave,” he repeats, gently, “covers a lot of things. It’s brave to stand up to those around you and fight for what you believe to be true…”

Geraldus meets his eyes, his usual bright grin now a small, understanding smile, “it’s brave to carry on the show, when everything is changed.”

“It is brave to hold your nerve in the face of such horrors as you have seen, Geraldus,” he said, “and it is brave, too, to let yourself grieve what it cost you to do so.”

It has cost him everything, Geraldus realises, and will cost more still.

Geraldus lets himself cry; lets the tears fall.

Klaus lets him - pulling his fingers from the chains, and holding them gently as he does.

His body is singing with it, the sadness rattling through still, buzzing gently as his heaves start to settle and Klaus wipes at his cheeks.

As he blinks away the last of the tears he realises why it is that Donnick brought him here.

Why this is the person Donnick has turned to, whilst he’s been away.

He’s not sure what compulsion drives him to clear the space between them; a desperation, he supposes, to be touched - to feel something else other than sadness for a moment. He parts his lips in a desperate kiss as Klaus holds his fingers against his chest; returning the kiss a moment, before gently pushing him back.

“Geraldus-” he starts, “you - Donnick and you…”

Geraldus reaches for him again, dragging him by the collar back to his lips.

“Please,” he whispers against his lips, “I need… I just need…”

Klaus tangles his fingers into his hair, moves into his kiss, and gives him what he needs.

–

In the tangle, Donnick draws his lips across Geraldus’ neck; adorns him with care as he reaches for Klaus’ hand - wanting his familiar warmth - wanting to lace his fingers with his own.

Geraldus rasps, breaking and gentle as Klaus’s lips draw across him, tongue trailing up his cock, lingering, swirling across his head.

Donnick kisses him, catches those gasps as Klaus takes Geraldus into his mouth - and feels his fingers gripping Donnick’s tighter - reassuring.

Geraldus’ head lolling back, and Donnick kisses at his throat as he moans. He grips his hips, carefully; their bodies familiar to one another, a welcome, happy return to a place of safety as he presses into him, gently - and hears Geraldus cry out.

Klaus crawls up between his legs as Donnick thrusts into Geraldus, slowly, deep. Klaus’ lips find his own, desperate; and Donnick returns his kiss - tastes the salt of Geraldus’ skin lingering on his tongue as Geraldus whimpers between them.

He keeps kissing him as Klaus presses himself against Geraldus, drawing their cocks together in his grasp, working them both in careful, deliberate strokes - matching Donnick’s bucking thrusts.

Geraldus’ fingers tangle into Donnick’s hair, splay across Klaus’ spine to feel his panting breaths. Klaus pins Donnick’s grip, biting at his lip, letting out a moan of his own against his lip. Donnick feels himself closer and closer; trying to hold on even as Geraldus breaks; twisting against him as he comes - and Klaus’s groan against his lip tells him he’s not far behind.

Donnick lets his thrusts quicken; driving harder now as Klaus lets out a growling cry into his throat. He gives into it - finally collapsing through; the wash of pleasure flooding his mind as he grips them both, closer, and lets himself go.

–

“You’re leaving the Temple?” Geraldus asks, as they sit on the grass, looking across at the city - battered, ruined by battle, but standing still - defiant. Rebuilding itself, brick by brick, day by day.

It had survived, just as he had. It will rebuild, just as he will.

Donnick nods.

He twists a ring around his finger, contemplating.

“It’s… complicated,” he says, “there’s something… something I need to do.”

He meets Geraldus’ eyes, now, hesitant.

“There’s someone,” he says, confessing. “Someone who needs me.”

Geraldus searches his gaze; sees the glimmer in them, of something sad, but hopeful. Once again, Donnick has changed. For the first time in months, he sees that resolve in his eyes, that he’d seen all those years before in a quiet room - as he’d drawn fingers across fresh scars.

He smiles, and reaches for his hand.

“You’ll make it through,” he says.

Donnick squeezes his fingers.

“Maybe,” he says, and laughs a little - nervous, “I think I might be a little mad.”

Geraldus smiled wider still.

“You’re not mad,” he says, “you’re in love.”

Donnick takes a breath.

“I hope that’s enough,” he says, eyes distant.

Geraldus holds his hands a little longer. They stay there, in comfortable silence, holding on for that little while longer.

“What about you?” Donnick asks eventually, “are you going back to them? The Harpers?”

Geraldus doesn’t know yet. He’s stuck, waiting here, in this limbo of uncertainty - waiting, waiting - for something else to happen. He wishes he was like Donnick. That he had a something, or a someone, for his heart to point to.

“I think so,” he says.

Donnick squeezes his fingers a little tighter still.

“You’ll make it through, too,” he says.

–

Geraldus tests the pin on his chest, wanting to make sure it was fastened properly. His feet have guided him to the gates of the circus; because where else is there to go? Who else is there to tell?

Klaus is reading something as he approaches; and he glances up, taking him in - his lips breaking into a bright, sudden smile.

“Well,” he greets, pushing away from the railings as Geraldus approaches, “now that’s a welcome sight.”

Geraldus feels a little flush on his cheeks as he brushes his hair behind his ear, Klaus’ gaze roving over him, over his armour, appreciative.

“What do you think?” He asks.

“I feel safer already,” Klaus says, grinning.

Geraldus feels himself wanting to flinch, instinctive.

“You’re teasing me,” he says.

Klaus shakes his head.

“Not even a little,” he says, his grin shifting, his smile sincere, “it suits you - Harper.”

Geraldus smiles, and moves to his side, to look out across the town with him. Klaus reaches for his arm, looping his own around it, and rests his hands across Geraldus’ own, warm and reassuring.

“You need some company - for the ceremony?” He asks.

Geraldus nods.

“Thanks,” he says, and then after a long moment, “do you think Donny will make it?”

Klaus nudges him a little.

“Of course he will,” he says, “how could he miss it?”

[youneedsomeprompts]

10 OT+ prompts

requested by: anonymous request: poly ship prompts, especially a quad (OT4)

Feel free to use and reblog!

#1 - two couples falling in love with the other couple

#2 - A coming home to the sight of B & C asleep in each other's arms on the couch, and it warms their heart

#3 - A & B already preparing dinner for everyone while C & D still have to work

#4 - A is sick and everyone is fussing over them

#5 - having the wildest group chat

#6 - A prefers having one-on-one dates with their partners while B always wants to do a group date

#7 - having a huge shared bed and always ending up sleeping totally tangled up in each other

#8 - OT3 'adopting' D because they're just so cute and they make for a perfect addition; D is a bit flustered and overwhelmed at first

#9 - using family discounts when they're making trips

#10 - having a sleeping schedule pinned to their fridge and shocking their guests with it