#advisor scribbles

[unknownadvisor]

...i couldn't resist

[handplates gaster by @zarla-s ]

danny devito. of course. :)

idk something something gaster is the man that gives you the egg theory, i buy it LOL

im also quite fond of the fact that the only thing that you can do with the egg is put it in Asgore's fridge. really does make me think of handplates!gaster looking out for our man Lord Fluffybuns

[leahaart]

[histemar]

some thoughts on this moment in maedhros’ life: his world gets torn apart as his father dies; they’ve literally burnt the ships there’s no way back; he’s responsible not only for his family but for his entire people; not to mention fulfilling the oath; when he gets captured, all of his party are killed but him, most of whom were probably his friends and hand chosen (or volunteered) to accompany him to what is almost certainly going to be an ambush; there is so much blood on his hands

by the time morgoth gets his hands on him maedhros is firmly in the worst place imaginable, which probably makes him very difficult to torture. unless it’s by convincing them that he’s failed. so morgoth shows him that, again and again. the bloodstained faces of his brothers, fingon, his father, his friends. again and again and again.

and yet when maedhros hears fingon sing upon thangorodrim he sings back. despite everything, despite the twisted and blackened realities inhabiting his mind, he sings back.

[shiroi---kumo]

Palava Tuli is one of the kingdom's most talented musicians. She was a resident of the palace far longer than she was a bind to Lord Aurinko as she was good friends with Aurinko's father Lord Huippu. She became a bind to Aurinko when he was 6 years old to teach him music. Three years prior she gave birth to her son, Sitriini Sinfonia and was pleased to see that her son and her liege had bonded like brothers.

When Aurinko took the throne after the untimely death of Lord Huippu, she went from being his teacher to his advisor and took over the department of festival and ritual planning. She's helped guide Sinfonia on his career to become a highly skilled musician in the kingdom.

Tuli is extremely close to Aurinko, her fellow binds and the royal family as she lost her husband to the war with Windaria. She thinks of Aurinko's children, Punainen Usva and Valkoinen Pilvi like her grand children, even though they both call her "Täti Tuli." (Aunt Tuli)

Of all of Aurinko's binds, she is the closest to Sininen Taivas.

[vermillioncrown]

state of the union

*edit: kylie minogue my remaining line of sanity

[rainintheevening]

Peter writes home from the battlefield every chance he can.

Lucy's letters are full of barely rhyming, rambling poetry, talk of stars and trees and any plants or animals he's seen. He puts in all the words that will never describe any of this, but still there is a great sky above him, and a big heart in his chest, and he hopes she will understand. She could if anyone can.

To Edmund he sends the muddy, bloody, wobbly-writing letters, the ones with rambling memories of Narnian battles and strategy, though he takes care to phrase it as 'playing in the woods', not wanting the censors to get leery. There are also many theological musings, and usually the continuation of whatever Bible verse Ed has sent in his letter. I wish you were here, and yet I am glad you are not, is a sentiment oft repeated.

Susan and Mother usually get the same letter, little stories of kindness shown or soft things appreciated. He asks them for more socks for Jackie, an extra bar of chocolate for Hamish, tells them how he's gotten his whole unit to memorize the Jabberwocky poem, and they make each other smile with it.

Dad is usually named with Susan and Mother, but sometimes he gets an extra scribble, usually a single scripture reference, or the name of a local boy now dead, and a few things Peter asks him to go tell the family.

Eustace gets the occasional missive folded in with the rest, usually sketches of aeroplanes, with which Eustace is fascinated, though they aren't very good sketches. If there's a sketch for Eustace, there is usually also a sketch for Jill, something Narnian, a sword or a forest or a castle.

Professor Kirke only gets occasional letters, usually short and to the point, but written in particularly formal language, as of a king writing to a dear advisor.

They all write to Peter.

Professor Kirke sends exerpts of whatever philosophy or theology or history books he just happens to be reading at the time he remembers to write. Sometimes it seems very random to Peter, but he loves it.

Eustace's letters are infrequent, but burst with colourful descriptions of his school life that make Peter laugh.

Dad usually just scribbles scripture references at the bottom of Mother's letters. Susan signs those too. Mother's letters are full of ordinary home life, rich with the warmth of hearthlight and fresh baking and good books and comfortable chairs and a much loved old quilt. She says what everyone is doing much more clearly, tells how the garden is coming in.

Mother and Susan are also very good at writing to the boys who don't have anyone to write to them. (Peter has a picture of his family, and everyone in Peter's unit thinks Susan is the prettiest girl in Europe, that she should be a queen, but they all watch what they say around Peter, they know how he feels about his sister's honour. But it really does bring up morale.)

Edmund doesn't usually say a lot, but he's regular, always engaging with whatever musings Peter put in his previous letter, making some of his own references to Narnia, usually to things Oreius taught them, and always concluding with a Bible verse. Half the time Ed absently addresses the missive To High King Peter, my brother... He never actually says I'll find you when I join up, I promise, it's just sort of there, between the lines.

Lucy's letters are like blue sky and fresh air and a fierce hug. Sometimes Peter can almost smell Narnia on the paper. They're not long, but she says I love you all the time, and talks of the weather and the flowers, and the girls at school who are struggling, and how she's trying to help them, and there's always a bit of poetry or a hymn that she's written, but it's actually good, compared to Peter's stuff. Courage, dearest brother, she always says. Remember the Lion, she always finishes.

Peter gets so many letters he has to start sending them back to his family for safe keeping.

[pawnshopbleus]

Happy Birthday, Miss. President

Professor!Abby Anderson x Fem!Student!Reader

Contains - smut, teacher and student relationship, Reader is 22 and Abby is 32, this isn’t beta read so…

Summary - When an alumni meeting and your birthday fall on the same day, Professor Abby Anderson finds a way to make up for it.

Author's note - I don’t know how college works because I’m a senior in high school. Let’s just pretend that Harvard has class presidents. Let’s also pretend this is in character for Abby.

When you ran for senior class president you knew that there would be certain commitments that you could not break. You promised the entire student body that you would take their concerns into account. You wanted Harvard to become an inclusive school where everyone was welcomed. You weren’t expecting to win considering that you were running against Dina Williams, head cheerleader and every man's dream girl. When you won, you were pleasantly surprised and couldn’t wait to get to work. That was until you found out what it meant to actually be the class president.

You needed to approve new clubs, promote pep rallies, set up the student section for football games, host spirit week, hold outreach meetings, and attend all the club meetings. To say that your life would be busy would be an understatement.

That was three months ago. Now, it is a cold October day. The trees rustled along the windows of lecture room two hundred and eleven. Some heads were settled on the desk in front of them while others quickly scribbled down notes. Professor Anderson, the chemistry professor, and your advisor glided through each slide about molecular structure. You watched as students dropped their pencils and pens to give their poor little hands a break from writing. You enjoyed the show from the comfort of your teacher's assistant's desk.

The clock struck five pm, indicating the end of class. Students rejoiced as they packed up their things and left the lecture room, leaving only you and Professor Anderson in the classroom.

You watched with attentive eyes as she walked over to her desk in the front of the room. It was dimly lit and cold over there, casting an angelic glow over her. Professor Anderson was wearing the forest green button-up blouse that you liked so much. It was made out of cotton meaning that sometimes it gets too hot. When she overheats in her clothes she likes to unbutton the top three buttons of her blouse. If one tries hard enough they can get a small glimpse of the bra she's wearing. You feel like a perv for knowing, but the professor isn’t so innocent either. Sometimes you catch her licking her lips as she stares at you, completely forgetting that she’s in a room with hundreds of other people.

As a chemistry major, you need to take many advanced chemistry classes. Since the first day of class, you found yourself staring at Professor Anderson as she taught. She would often lean on her desk in front of the class while her arms were crossed in front of her. She was the type of woman that you fantasized about. Tall, strong, and smart.

At first, it started out as a simple attraction towards her, then it turned into a crush, and now you were completely infatuated with her. You felt like you struck gold when she was appointed to be your advisor.

You get up from your chair and walk over to Professor Anderson’s desk. She looks up at you through her half-moon glasses. Her blonde hair framed her face perfectly. She prefers to wear her hair in a braid, but on rare occasions, she will wear it down, just the way you like it.

“Come pull up a chair. We have some things to go over,” Professor Anderson said as she pulled out her calendar.

You dragged a chair from the corner and placed it next to her. Now that you were just inches away from her, you could smell the keynotes of her perfume. Black cherry, tonka bean, and almond. You inhaled the scent through your nose and exhaled. She smelled good enough to eat.

Professor Anderson flipped her hair from one shoulder to the other, giving you a good view of her neck. God, how you wished you were a vampire right now so you could sink your teeth into her perfect neck. You wanted to consume her, mind, body, and soul. Maybe that was a little violent, but it was true.

You were sitting so close to her that if you extended your pinky just a little bit you would be touching her.

“So, what is it you wanted to go over?” you squeaked. You hate how pathetic you sound every time you speak with her. Oh, how you wished you could exhibit the confidence some lesbians had in television and movies.

At least your birthday is coming soon. It was next Friday, the perfect day for it to fall on. After two hours of classes, you would return to your shoebox of an apartment and watch a stupid rom-com while you drank boxed wine. Now that sounded like the perfect way to spend your twenty-second birthday.

“You have a very busy week ahead of you. On Monday you have a GSA meeting to go to, the Tuesday there is an event you need to set up for, Wednesday there’s a peer counseling session you need to over see, on Thursday there’s a short film screening that you need to make an appearance at, and on Friday there’s an alumni meeting that you need to attend.” Professor Anderson took a deep breath in to catch her breath after talking for so long.

Your eyes widened with horror. No, you couldn’t spend your birthday in a stupid meeting. “Professor, I don’t think I can make it to the meeting on Friday. It’s my birthday.”

“Friday is your only mandatory day. I’m sorry but you have to go.” Professor Anderson put her hand on your upper thigh and squeezed it. She must have realized what she had done because she quickly took her hand off our thigh and cleared her throat.

You let out a small sigh of frustration and played with the sleeve of the top you were wearing. You weren’t going to complain. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful in front of your professor.

“I’ll be there, Professor,” you assured her.

“Do me a favor. When it’s just the two of us, call me Abby.”

Abby, short for Abigail. A name of Hebrew origin deeply intertwined with a figure of great beauty and intellect.

“That’s a beautiful name,” you gave her a tight-lipped smile that didn’t really reach your eyes. You were still a little disappointed about not having your birthday off, but this is what you get for running for class president.

You dismissed yourself and began the trek from your college campus to your apartment. Leaves were falling and trees that still had their coverings began to change color. The wind rustled and shook the naked branches of trees. The sun was setting, and the streetlights were about to turn on.

You hugged yourself tight as you walked against the wind. You kept licking your lips as you walked, silently cursing yourself for not bringing Vaseline with you.

You reached into your bag to search for the keys to your apartment. You unlocked the door and dropped your things on the floor. You replaced your day clothes with your pajamas and got into bed, but you couldn’t fall asleep. You stayed up all night thinking about a certain blonde-haired professor that looked like a dream.

— — — — — —

The alumni meeting was in full swing. Men and Women in their forties and fifties mixing and mingling with each other. The room smelled of expensive perfume and cologne, no doubt it was from the amount of money most of the alumni went on to make. Most of them are very successful doctors, engineers, scientists, CEOs, tech pioneers, and entertainment executives. The rest of them peaked in college and have thousands of dollars in debt.

You stood at the back of the auditorium smiling once in a while at alumni who caught your eye. So far, you haven’t done anything. The most you did was direct a lost man who needed to use the restroom. When you told him that the restrooms were in the other hall he mumbled something under his breath. It went along the lines of things sure have changed since I went here. You didn’t have it in your heart to tell him that the restrooms have always been down that hall.

You silently cursed Abby for making you attend this meeting. You could have been at home celebrating your birthday, but instead, you had to stand in the back of a stuffy room with people way older than you.

The latest Abby could have done was attend the meeting. Could you even call this a meeting?

A man who looked like he was in his late sixties stepped on the stage in the front of the room. He tapped the mic three times and spoke into it. His voice was raspy, “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of the entire Harvard community, I welcome you back to your alma mater.” Everyone in the room began to clap. The sound was overwhelming. The man on stage began speaking again. “Now, I would like to welcome one of our best professors to the stage. She is a Harvard graduate herself and now teaches chemistry in the Department Of Chemistry and Chemical Engineering. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Professor Abigail Anderson.”

Abby stepped out in a black jumpsuit and red Louboutins. Her hair fell down in beautiful waves and grazed her open back. She looked like a dream up on that stage.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” her eyes began to scan the crowd and once they fell upon yours she smiled and began speaking again, “I am here tonight to reward all of you for your kind and generous donations. All of you will be rewarded with your own monument in the botanical gardens.” The alumni began to clap and cheer.

Is this why you needed to be here? To watch some rich people pay their way to the top?

You pushed your way through the sea of older people and made your way outside. Autumn in Massachusetts was fairly cold, but winter was colder and harsher. You hugged yourself in hopes that your own body heat would warm you up as you began walking in the direction of your apartment. This was your first time as class president leaving a function early. There was no reason for you to be there.

“Where are you going?” Abby asked from the doorway of the auditorium.

You huffed, causing you to see your breath in the cold air, “I’m going home.”

Abby ran up after you, “As senior class president it is your duty to be here. As your advisor, I will not tolerate your attitude.”

You stopped walking, “There’s no reason for me to be there. Either this is a ploy for the room to look packed or you really hate me. There are other ways I would like to spend my twenty-second birthday and being in a room with Harvard alumni is not one of them.”

“Listen to me,” she said your name in a tone that can only be described as stern. You could have melted from how much your skin heated up, but you kept your composure. “I understand that it’s your birthday, but I need you to go back there and mingle with people for a little bit.”

You inhaled the cold autumn air through your nose and exhaled. “Fine,” you said flatly.

“Good,” Abby’s cherry red lips stretched into a smile at your agreement. “By the way, I have a surprise for you in my classroom. You’ll have to wait till later to open it though.” Abby winked before returning to the auditorium.

You followed her back into the auditorium. Not because you wanted to, but because you had to. You returned to your place in the back of the room. You took a sip of the water that was on the refreshment table in the front of the room. You wanted to stay sober enough for whatever Abby had in the classroom.

— — — — — —

The auditorium was mostly empty. The alumni have returned to their accommodations for the night. The only people that were left were you, Abby, and the janitorial staff.

Abby beckoned you to follow her with her hand. The two of you walked side by side to her classroom. You were at a respectable distance so as to not cause suspicion, but you wished you could be closer to her. You wanted to feel her skin on yours.

The two of you reached her classroom a few minutes later. It was cold in her classroom, if not colder than outside.

Abby lit two vanilla-scented candles instead of turning on the lights. The flames bounced off the walls of the classroom causing it to cast an angelic glow over the both of you.

Abby walked over to her desk and grabbed a small box from her drawer. “Happy birthday,” she said as she handed you the box.

Inside was a silver necklace with your first initial. “Oh, Abby. I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Your words were all over the place and all of a sudden you felt bad for the way you treated her earlier.

“It’s no problem. Here, let me help you put it on,” she volunteered. She held the necklace in between her fingers and slid it around your neck. The cold metal kissed your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

You looked at Abby over your shoulder and gave her a soft smile. When your eyes met her, that's when you realized that her eyes were focused on your lips. “Abby?” you whispered. Her eyes flickered up to meet yours, silently asking for permission. You gave her a soft nod and she kissed you. Years worth of pent-up emotions came down to this. Her kissing you in the spur of the moment.

You immediately returned the kiss, your lips meeting hers with the same amount of fervor. Your hands tangled into the long strands of her hair. Abby tasted just like cherries, sweet and a little tart. Now that you’ve had a taste of her you wouldn’t be able to get it out of your mind.

Abby broke the kiss, giving you a few moments to catch your breath. You were high with desire for your professor. “Do you want this?” she asked. Abby wanted to make sure that you were one hundred percent on board with this before you went any further.

You nodded your head and Abby asked. “Use your words.”

“Yes,” you breathed. You were surprised at your ability to form words at the present moment.

Once she had your verbal consent she attacked your lips once more. This time she allowed her hands to glide up and down your body. Her hands explored every inch and curve of your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Remnants of her red lipstick painted your skin along the way.

You were getting bored of the teasing so you guided her hands under the top you were wearing, giving her permission to take it off. The rest of your clothes are soon to follow. Now, you’re left with nothing on but your necklace as Abby guides you to lie down on her desk. It’s cold and hard, but that’s the least of your worries when you have a naked Abby Anderson hovering on top of you.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do this properly, but I couldn’t wait,” Abby whispers into your skin as she leaves trails of wet kisses on your skin.

Abby’s trail eventually leads to where you need her the most. Your sex is exposed to the cold air of her classroom. Her hands latch onto the fat of your thighs as she trails kisses on the inside of your thighs. It was one of the most erotic sights you’ve ever seen. Abby was down there, her hair grazing her naked skin, the glow of the candles making her look like a goddess.

Abby licks up and down your slit, getting you nice and wet for her fingers. Your thighs twitched, not being used to the feeling of getting eaten out, but Abby kept them apart with her hands. She continued massaging your clit with her tongue. She was using methodical strokes. Up and down and side to side were her favorites.

She inserted one finger in first, getting you used to her size. Her fingers were thick so it took a few thrusts for you to finally feel ready for another. Her fingers slid in and out of your slick hole as she continued sucking your clit.

You were close. You could feel your orgasm pooling in your lower stomach. “Abby,” you breathed, “I’m close.”

“I know, baby. I can feel it.”

And without further warning you came, your juices painting her face Abby helped you through your orgasm, stroking your clit a few times for good measure.

It took both of you a few moments to collect your breath. Abby then got a towel that she had in her desk and cleaned you up. She proceeds to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand.

Abby let out a laugh of delight, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“Really?” Your forehead scrunched up in confusion, “Why?”

Abby then proceeded to compliment you more times than you can count. You bit your lip, trying to hide the smile that was growing on your face. This was the best birthday celebration a girl could ask for.

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

Let's pretend that was good!

[callsigns-haze]

Not like him

Eris x Rhysand's Sister!Reader Summary: Eris juggles his responsibilities as a leader and a new father, struggling with memories of his cruel upbringing. Overwhelmed by self-doubt, he fears becoming like his father, Beron. With the support of his advisor, Borra, Eris finds strength in his bond with his son, Finna, and reaffirms his commitment to his family. Warning: Flashbacks of childhood trauma and abuse, Emotional distress and self-doubt, Parental challenges and anxiety

*Serves as a one-shot but can be read as memories fade or the sequel loves haze series

Eris sat in his office, a place usually reserved for the burdens of leadership and the endless stack of paperwork that seemed to grow daily. Today, though, the room had a new addition: a small rocking crib placed beside his desk. Inside the crib lay baby Finna, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. Eris glanced over frequently, his heart swelling with love and worry.

He had insisted that Y/N take a day off, to go out into the town, relax, and enjoy some much-needed time to herself. She had been hesitant, but Eris had pushed her gently, knowing she deserved a break from the constant demands of their new life.

As he worked, the sound of Finna’s soft coos and occasional cries filled the room. Eris tried to focus on the papers in front of him, but his attention kept drifting back to his son. He rocked the crib gently with his foot while scribbling notes and signing documents, but the work felt like it was suffocating him today.

Finna let out a louder cry, and Eris’s heart tightened. He dropped his pen and moved to pick up his son, cradling him gently in his arms. He whispered soothing words, trying to calm the baby, but Finna seemed inconsolable.

Eris rocked Finna gently, walking around the office in an attempt to soothe him. The baby's cries slowly subsided, but the paperwork continued to loom over him. He felt exhausted, both physically and mentally, and the weight of his responsibilities pressed heavily on his shoulders. The balance between work and caring for his newborn was proving to be more challenging than he had anticipated.

Eris sat back at his desk, finally getting Finna to settle into a light sleep on his shoulder. He tried to resume his work, but the papers blurred in front of his tired eyes. The door to his office creaked open, and Borra, his advisor and leader of the armies, walked in. Seeing Eris’s dishevelled appearance and the baby nestled against him, Borra burst into laughter.

"Look at you, Eris," Borra chuckled, shaking his head. "The mighty leader brought to his knees by a newborn."

Eris shot him a tired but affectionate glare. "Careful, Borra. I might just hand him over to you for a while."

Borra grinned and stepped closer, peering at Finna. "He's a cute one, but I think I'll stick to dealing with soldiers and battles. You're doing great, though. Even if you look like you haven't slept in a week."

Eris sighed, shifting Finna slightly. "I pushed Y/N to take a day off. She needed it. But I underestimated how much work this little guy would be."

Borra placed a hand on Eris’s shoulder. "You're doing the right thing. Both for her and for him. It’s not easy, but you’ll find your rhythm."

Eris nodded, grateful for the support. "I know. It’s just...there’s so much to juggle. The responsibilities, the paperwork, and now Finna. Sometimes it feels like too much."

"You've faced tougher battles, Eris," Borra said with a reassuring smile. "And you’ve got a whole village behind you. Don’t be afraid to ask for help."

Eris looked down at Finna, who was now peacefully sleeping, and then back at Borra. "Thanks, Borra. I appreciate it. I just...I want to be the best for him, for Y/N."

"You already are," Borra replied. "Now, why don’t you take a break? I can handle some of this paperwork for you."

Eris hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. But just for a little while. I need to be there when Y/N gets back."

Borra laughed again. "Go on, get some rest. You’ve earned it."

Eris handed Finna over to Borra, who held the baby with surprising gentleness. As he left the office to catch a few moments of rest, he felt a wave of gratitude.

Eris stepped into the bathroom, the exhaustion weighing heavily on him. He splashed cold water onto his face, hoping to wash away the fatigue and frustration. As the water dripped from his chin, he looked up into the mirror and was met with his own weary reflection.

Suddenly, unbidden memories began to surface. Memories of his father, Beron, the High Lord of the Autumn Court, and his cruel ways. Beron’s harsh words and brutal actions replayed in his mind like a nightmare he couldn’t escape.

He remembered a time when Beron had berated him and his brothers, particularly Lucien, for not meeting his impossibly high standards. The punishments were severe, the lessons brutal. Eris recalled the cold, unfeeling eyes of his father as he dealt out punishment, the sense of helplessness and fear that had permeated his childhood.

Another memory flashed—Beron’s hand striking him across the face for a minor mistake, the sting of the slap, the shame and anger that had boiled within him. Eris had sworn to himself, even then, that he would never be like his father. He would never inflict such pain and fear on his own family.

But now, standing in the bathroom, exhausted and overwhelmed, Eris couldn’t shake the feeling that he was failing. He had pushed Y/N to take a break, but in doing so, he had struggled to handle the responsibilities of both his work and caring for Finna. The baby had cried inconsolably, and Eris felt helpless, just as he had as a child under Beron’s rule.

A sense of dread settled over him as he questioned if he was becoming like his father. He had promised himself, and his family, that he would be different. That he would be a loving, caring father who was always there for his children. Yet here he was, barely able to manage a few hours alone with his newborn son.

He gripped the edge of the sink, his knuckles turning white. “I’m not like him,” he whispered fiercely to his reflection. “I’m not Beron.”

But the doubts lingered. The fear that he might be failing his family, that he might inadvertently become the very thing he despised, gnawed at him.

Taking a deep breath, Eris forced himself to remember the love and support he had from Y/N, Borra, and his friends. He wasn’t alone in this. He had people who believed in him, who supported him. And most importantly, he had his own love for his family, a love that Beron had never shown.

He straightened up, wiping his face with a towel. He needed to be strong, not just for himself, but for Y/N and Finna. He had to break the cycle of cruelty and fear that his father had perpetuated. He would be better. He would be the father Finna deserved.

Eris walked back into the office, the determination still fresh in his eyes. Borra was sitting in the corner with Finna in his arms, gently rocking the baby. When Borra saw Eris enter, he looked up, a mixture of surprise and concern on his face.

"Back so soon?" Borra asked, his voice laced with shock.

Eris managed a tired smile, moving to take Finna from Borra’s arms. "Just needed a moment," he said, his voice steady but betraying the emotional turmoil he had just experienced.

Borra studied him for a moment, noting the slight tremble in his hands as he took the baby. "You alright, Eris?" he asked quietly.

Eris nodded, cradling Finna close and feeling the warmth of his son against his chest. "Yeah," he replied, his voice more confident now. "Just needed to remind myself of a few things."

Finna stirred slightly but settled quickly in Eris’s arms. The baby’s soft breathing was a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. He looked down at his son, feeling a surge of love and determination. He would do right by his family, no matter what.

Borra, sensing the weight of the moment, gave Eris a supportive nod. "You're doing fine, Eris. It's a lot to handle, but you're not alone."

Eris appreciated the sentiment, knowing Borra meant every word. "Thanks, Borra. I know I can count on you."

With that, Borra stood up, giving Eris a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping back. Eris turned his attention fully to Finna, who gazed up at him with wide, innocent eyes. He gently rocked his son, feeling the bond between them strengthen with each passing moment.

The office, with its stacks of papers and looming responsibilities, seemed less daunting now. Eris knew he had a long way to go, but he also knew he had the support of those who cared for him. And most importantly, he had the love of his family to guide him.

As he continued to rock Finna, Eris whispered softly, "We'll figure this out, little spark. Together." And in that moment, he felt a renewed sense of purpose, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Tagging some:

@callsign-magnolia

@kmc1989

@hardballoonlove

@senawashere

@hookslove1592

@marvel-molly

@lucky7rosie

@daughterofthemoons-stuff

@lilah-asteria

@crossfandomslut

@pit-and-the-pen

@inky-sun

@the-sweet-psycho

@why4anne

@bunnyredgirl

@rcarbo1

@pandabiiissh

@adalia-jaycee

@swiftie-4-lifes-stuff

@minaethrym

[imdoingaokay]

Romanced!DAI Companions and Advisors (+ Platonic!Vivienne) when The Inquisitor returns to Skyhold late

(A/N: Heyyyy guys... I've missed you :) This past few months have been awful for me... but I'm back... teeheehee

I think this is gonna be really niche so I feel a need to explain what I was thinking??? Basically, The Inquisitor has been on a mission for a while now and they're returning extremely late at night.

Apologies for the inaccurate lore stuff, I don't think hours exist in Dragon Age because they don't have clocks? Or they do??? I dunno man I got a final tomorrow and I don't know if I'm gonna pass

Just know that the whole reason I got inspired for this was because it was late and I was imagining Vivienne watching The Inquisitor come back and her wrapping her robe around her waist like a mom watching their grown child come home from a rave or something

Once again, no beta we die like men

And happy late dragon age day, love y'all)

TW: Mentions of death

Blackwall/Thom Rainer: Unable to sleep. He’s waiting, whittling at the griffon he keeps. He doesn’t want to sleep anways, who will greet his lover? The wind? No. He’ll stay up, just for a few minutes longer, he tells himself… But soon he finds himself whittling into the early hours of the morning. That’s when there’s a stir of the guards, the whispers, and alerts are quiet, as to not wake up the many souls sleeping, but the message is clear.

His love has returned. And he will wait by the gate, a grin on his face and sleepiness in his eyes. He greedily hopes his lover may wish to sleep a few hours before the rest of Skyhold truly awakens.

Cassandra: She’s in bed, but not sleeping, reading a book. She’s trying to sleep, but her anxieties are getting to her. Somehow, ever since she got the letter saying that her love was returning, she fears even more. Her mind is plagued with images of an assassinated Inquisitor on the way back to her. Maker! Why didn’t that fool just bring her? 

Just as she scoffs, she hears something of a commotion outside. She prays for a moment, the news is good, and she throws on her armor, knowing better than to leave her room without it, and rushes to the gate. This is where her fears are put to rest as she greets her lover, a relieved smile on her face. And it is with this her sleepiness finally settles in. after a quick word, she urges her lover to rest, with or without her. All that matters that they returned.

Cullen Rutherford: He hasn’t slept since his lover left. A few moments where he stares off into space, drifting off before yanking himself back into consciousness. So it feels normal for him as he scribbles away the missives on his desk, being sure to double check each one so he didn’t accidentally write something foolish in his sleep deprived state. Somehow, in this half-dead state of his, he can hear the murmuring of guards outside of his door, and one enters. 

The guard has been ordered to inform Cullen of when they see The Inquisitor, so when they enter, Cullen knows what it’s for. And somehow, the sleepiness Cullen once had disappears, replaced with a drive he always feels when his lover returns. He rushes down the battlement steps, sure to not seem too desperate to his men. And in his excitement, he quickly meets his lover halfway on the bridge. They may be on their horse, but Cullen will happily walk back with them, looking up at them like they hold his whole world in their hands. When his lover gets off their horse, however, that is when he embraces them, a chaste kiss pressed to their cheek. This is when he finally asks them to rest with him, as his exhaustion is coming to bite him in the ass.

Dorian Pavus: Dorian has lied to himself multiple times throughout the night. He lied to himself claiming he didn’t care if he was asleep when his amatus returned from their very dangerous mission. So he lays in his bed for hours, trying to sleep. And when he can’t? He lies to himself, coming up with some excuse as to why his mind will not rest. So he waits in the library, sipping a glass of wine while attempting to read nonchalantly. Of course, he seemingly can’t. So he decides to wait on the battlements, claiming he must need some fresh air. Even though he despises how cold it is that night. 

But, somehow, without meaning to, he notices the small group of people making their way across the bridge. And, without a reason at all, a huge weight is lifted off of Dorian’s shoulders. 

He lets out a sigh and returns to the warmth of the library, happy to wait for his lover to come to him. And when he does, only then does Dorian finally agree to go to sleep. 

Iron Bull: Doesn’t sleep, but this is because he knew his lover was coming back tonight. So he waits patiently in the tavern, a ear out and ready, waiting for murmurs of The Inquisitor’s return. And when he does hear, he happily shoots up from his chair and makes his way to the gate, happy to greet his lover.

Bull was only slightly worried to be away from his lover, he knew they could handle their mission without him, but still, who knows what could happen? But the news that The Inquisitor was coming back? That was enough to settle his nerves. But seeing… and feeling his lover in his arms? That is what truly relaxes him.

Josephine Montilyet: Josephine is the only one who is asleep, she was corralled to his bedroom by Leliana, who told Josephine that she would wake her up when The Inquisitor returned. True to her word, Leliana gently shook awake a sleepy Josephine who, wrapped in a robe, quickly made her way to the empty Great Hall. She situated herself onto Vivienne’s balcony. She happily watched her lover pass the gates a promptly made their way to her, greeting her with a gentle kiss, which Leliana thankfully turned away from. Afterwards she’s happy to lead her lover to bed, as the second the pair’s heads hit the pillow, the pass effortlessly into a dreamless sleep.

Sera: Sera’s mindlessly making arrows, her door is locked, as she grew tired of Cole trying to make his way into the room to encourage Sera to talk about her anxieties surrounding her Inky leaving without her. She doesn’t even know her lover has returned until she hears the door jiggle a bit before her lover’s voice calls, “Sera, I saw the light was on, are you awake?”

This is when Sera happily throws the door open and grabs her Inky and drags them inside her room, into her arms. The two were eventually found the next morning by a messenger, who reported The Inquisitor and Sera were fast asleep in a pile of various blankets and pillows.

Solas: Solas isn’t sleeping much either, somehow he can’t take his mind off of his vhenan. He completely understand why his lover would take another person on their adventure, potentially a different mage than him. But he worries when they’re away! And there’s not much to do in Skyhold when The Inquisitor is gone. Most servants and nobles steer clear from him. He busies himself painting the various frescos in the atrium. He’s just taken a break and decided to walk along the battlements, and that’s of course, when he sees his beloved. He’s happy to walk down the stairs of the battlements and meet his lover at the gate, awaiting them with open arms. He happily leads them away, whether to their bed in their room, where Solas will leave them to rest. Or if they prefer, they can spend a bit of time in the atrium alone, Solas would be happy to hear the stories of his vhenan’s journey. 

Varric Tethras: Varric is rotating between the tavern and The Great Hall. Ever since he first got the letter from his lover, happily informing him of their return, he’s only been more nervous. Like Cassandra, he fears the image of a truly tragic hero, beaten down on the way back to the arms of their lover. 

He thinks he’s been writing too much tragedy when he firsts gets that mental image

Nevertheless, he pushes through the night.

Eventually, he’s sitting at his usual spot near the fire, unhappily grumbling to himself, sounding like a real dwarf. His mind is racing, and he can’t seem to get the thoughts to stop. So, for one last time that evening, he walks out of the hall, preparing to return to the tavern for a drink and a song from Maryden. That’s when he sees his beloved standing by the gate, quietly talking with a solider who leads their horse away. They’ve returned and they’re safe, that’s all he needed to know.

When The Inquisitor finally catches a glimpse of their lover, all they see is a bright grin spread across his face.

Varric is happy to go along with whatever The Inquisitor wants, bed, a drink, a tale by the fire, he’s just relieved they’ve returned.

Vivienne: Vivienne lies to herself. The day that she hears The Inquisitor will be returning that evening, she nods and nonchalantly walks away. Yet she finds herself constantly checking the gate everytime there is movement in that direction. She has no idea why, however. Her friend, whom she doesn’t really call friend, is taking an awful long amount of time to just get back to Skyhold. 

She justifies her musings on The Inquisitor’s safety as rationally as she can. If The Inquisitor dies, Thedas will be lost. If The Inquisitor dies, her position in court may affected. If The Inquisitor dies, she will be sad-

That is what gives her pause. She straightens her back, hands quickly going to her face as if to smooth out her frown that was previously there, and then she turns on her heel and returns to her sofa. She attempts to swallow down her fear the entire day, but as the night swiftly covers Skyhold, she finds herself unable to sleep. The moons is high in the sky when she emerges from her room, robe tightly wrapped around her. She is sure not a single soul will see her in such a… vulnerable state. She quickly makes her way to the balcony again, and stays there for what feels like an entire age. But just as she gets ready to sigh and return to a sleepless night in her bed, she hears a disturbance coming from the gate. That is where she sees The Inquisitor, alive and perhaps wrapped in the arms of lover. And with a sigh of… relief? She quietly returns to her chambers. Never speaking of this again.

[comatosebunny09]

These meetings always drag on for what feels like centuries.

His council drones on about something Astarion can’t be bothered to follow. It’s a bad habit he’s developed as of late, tuning out what he doesn’t deem important. Luckily, one of his advisors will catch him up on the essentials later.

Poor Astarion can’t focus to save his life, too swept up in the delectable aroma filling his lungs and the gentle shift of pressure behind him.

A glance disguised as a cough over his shoulder reveals what he already knows. Of course, it’s your fragrance turning his brain to mush. His stunning, ever-loyal bodyguard, standing in good form behind him. Your gazes meet for the briefest of seconds before you return your attention to the wall, and you quietly clear your throat. 

Astarion hides a youthful grin behind his hand when he turns back. His chest swells triumphantly as he taps his pen against the cherrywood table, feigning interest in this meeting. He’s much too distracted now, reveling in how he’s flustered you again. Always during the most inappropriate moments, wending through your stoic exterior.    

Try as you might to mask your feelings, Astarion can smell how you yearn for him. Smells pheromones wafting off your skin, blood warming your veins, and your ache for him pooling in your stomach. Best of all, he can hear how much you crave him. Your throat bobs with how thickly you swallow. Your breaths are labored, and your heart pumps eagerly to accommodate whatever nerves overhaul your body. 

Astarion fixes his collar with a wistful sigh. He cradles his cheek in his palm as he scribbles in his notebook, engulfed by the maelstrom of his thoughts. Consumed by the thought of you.  

He hasn’t the foggiest why you continue with this game of cat and mouse; why you carry on as if your fingers don’t itch to touch him. As if your lips don’t ache to feel and taste his. Like your heart doesn’t beat a little faster when he’s near. He’s adored you for quite some time now. Reserved a place in his cold, silent heart just for you, the cobwebs brushed away and sunlight slinking in through its cracks.

He hasn’t exactly been subtle with his advances.  

Often, he’ll whisper saccharine words against the shell of your ear when he passes you during his gatherings, a cautious hand smoothing your hair away from your cheek. He’s known to pilfer little glances at you during his meetings, smiling like an enamored fool when you catch him, saturating his mind with endorphins.

He tends to corner you in the safety of his quarters, caging you between his body and whatever wall you find yourself backed into. Breathes hotly against the slope of your shoulder, teasing you until your neck and cheeks explode with heat, and you’re dizzy from the headiness of it all.

Occasionally, his fingers brush against yours whilst walking side-by-side through the quiet hallways of his castle. And sometimes, he entertains the idea of holding your hand, filling the spaces between your fingers with his, and squeezing to let you know what he feels for you is very much real.   

You become such a delightful sight when you scramble for words and skitter away from his affections like you’ve been branded by fire. 

It's a game Astarion likes to play, seeing how far he can push you until your defenses crumble and you succumb to your desires. There’s no one holding a sword to your neck. No one demanding you stave off his advances or embrace them. But he knows that you know he would throw his kingdom to hell for you, craving you more than the air filtering through his lungs.

He shudders at the thought. How violently his passion burns. It’s been far too long since he’s felt like this about anyone.  

The gathering carries on in a muddled blur, filled with the useless prattle of his kingdom’s finest. He’s all but remorseful when it draws to its conclusion.

Astarion stands to bid his councilmen farewell, smiles rehearsed and handshakes firm. He’s found it easier to maintain this façade as long as he promises to reward himself with your presence. He watches through his peripheral as the last of his men trickles out. Patient as the maids scuttle in, clearing the table of water pitchers and glasses dripping condensation.

When he’s sure there is but the two of you left in the council chamber, Astarion heaves a sigh with the drop of his shoulders as if all the world’s weight sloughs off. The snicker you relent to the air behind makes him stiffen. He spins ‘round to regard you with a quirked brow, wiping the amused look from your face.

Rounding his chair, Astarion begins sauntering to you, steps measured and stare predatory.

“Tickled, are you?” drawls your king, swaddling you in all his eccentric, regal air when he stops before you.

He dwarfs you by a few inches, a concept that makes him smirk like the proverbial cat that’s caught the canary. A hand stuffed in his breeches pocket, he tenderly eases a lock of hair behind your ear, purposely grazing the edge of your ear. A shudder is elicited from your person, and Astarion’s smirk grows tenfold as his hand drops listlessly at his side.

You shake out of your trance, fixing your gaze on anything but him. With your hands still clasped at the small of your back, you say, “Not at all, Majesty. You just look like you survived the apocalypse.”

Astarion scoffs, throwing his hand up with a dramatic flair. “With how these idiots carry on, I might as well have.”

Another laugh rumbles in your throat, yet you quickly correct yourself, remembering your decorum.

[hansluvs]

Your debut into the ton was certainly an anti-climactic one. Being the youngest of your five sisters, who had all been whisked away and married by the time you were of-age, everyone's attention had already moved on from your family's matches and preyed on the newer debutantes that had come in from further districts.

However, a debut that had certainly shocked the ton was that of the oldest Itoshi brother, who was the son of the King's advisor and had been close friends with the crown prince along with his brother since they were children. The entire society had been waiting for him to pursue a marriage match since his younger brother, Rin, had tied the knot with a very fortunate debutante the previous season.

Itoshi Sae had the reputation of being quite the rake, and was notorious for never taking the same woman to bed twice. He was very easily bored, as he put it, always looking for a new source of entertainment. Which consequently swiped marriage right off the table, as words from the mamas claim he's never so much as considered it.

Yet there he is now, standing beside his mother and younger brother, nursing a glass of lemonade. His teal eyes are carefully flitting around the room, seemingly cold and calculated. You hoped they would not meet yours.

As much as the alluring man across you had piqued your interest, you were determined to achieve your one and only goal for this season: to find a love match, and ultimately decided that Itoshi Sae was certainly not the man for the job.

A gentle hand had rested on your shoulder and you turn around to find Mikage Reo, the only son of the Viscount Mikage, and your dearest friend.

"Nervous?" he asked, a cheeky grin on his charming face usually reserved for poking fun at you.

"Hardly. I find it's quite boring, you promised me more fun than this," huffing out a sigh, you take another sip from your lemonade. 

Reo lets out an amused chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the way you've always admired. You've harbored an unrequited crush on him for quite some time now, ever since their family had moved in across the street from yours and he had introduced himself with that same toothy grin he now flashed at you.

"It is uncharacteristically dull tonight, I suppose. Would you fancy a dance instead?"

Reo would have been the perfect match for you; attractive, intelligent, humorous, and not to mention from one of the most well-off families in town. You two got along well, and it was no question your shared affection for one another.

"And risk Seishiro shooting another rude remark at me? Thank you, but I'll pass."

If only he had not been in love with your older brother, Seishiro - who had returned his feelings, which you only found out this summer. Reo shoots you a scolding look, as if to warn you about someone overhearing your conversation. It was, after all, inappropriate for two men to be involved romantically within the ton.

Which was why your brother was standing a few feet away from the pair of you, a bored expression on his face as he pretended to listen to whatever Mr. Bachira was talking excitedly to him about.

Reo hurriedly scribbles down his name into your dance card then gently pulls you onto the large ballroom floor. "Don't worry about him, he's not the one making their debut. Besides, someone needs to dance with you in order to gain the attention of other suitors."

As the orchestra plays another lively tune, you scoff at your friend. "I don't need you to attract suitors! I can do that perfectly by myself, thank you very much."

"Really?" Reo smiles, lilac eyes not pointed at you but at somewhere, someone in the crowd instead. "So, do you reckon that Mr. Itoshi Sae would have noticed you had I not intervened?"

"What are you on about?"

As the pair of you turn, you finally see what Reo had meant.

Itoshi Sae, with his piercing teal eyes and indifferent expression, had been watching you move across the dance floor the entire time. Like a hawk.

The two of you meet each other's gaze and a shudder runs through you as Reo twirls you away from him. A sudden, awful feeling sinks into the pit of your stomach, and it seems that you were entirely incorrect.

This season would be far from boring, as you'd come to find out.

[unknownadvisor]

trick or treat :] hope ur doing pretty well btw

hi there!! happy halloween! take 1 or two its up to you! (basket full of miscellaneous things, mostly candy but also the occasional eraser or bag of dried fruit... there's also at least a handful of bones which appear to have come from a human hand.)

[kurjat]

more of my ocs @foulfeast

Between work scribbles trying 2 grind out a design for this one character :D they're a type of a highly trained "secretary" to the emperor. Slightly a self insert bc im a thirsty thirsty flower for my own ocs lol. In short, they were just supposed to be someone who follows Attilio around and documents him & his word, but they ended up developing a weird. Friendship? Mutual devotion with uncertain terms? UNDERSTANDING. And they've kinda started to subtly replace/outshine his regular advisors. Which has pissed a lot of people off. Im addicted 2 thinking about the advisors little spies slowly starting to come talk w them too, and slowly with them instead of the advisors etc. Which in fact is a little strange since they're quite soft and slowly prolly start 2 go mad w the preassure placed on them, as they see they're enabling Attilios soft side which they see as good, but also understand that it might lead to his downfall.

[caramel-maveeato]

ᴅᴏᴋɪ ᴅᴏᴋɪ ♡˚₊。。。

❧❤ SYNOPSIS: Eonni’s Gang’s unofficial couturier getting spellbound by the legendarily toe-curling rizzler So Mun (ft. real footage of Ga Motak being a professional matchmaker for 1k words straight)… ♡ Pairings/Love interest: So Mun x Fem!reader ♡ Genre: fluff, assumed relationship, reader is a simp in denial. ♡ TW: slightly suggestive, slight cursing, slight implication of bi-panic (it doesn’t indicate the reader is bi tho it’s just common sense to get skfjlsiglg when both Hana and Motak are in the room), might have been inserted a few TUC inside jokes and genZ slangs cus i was going insane over midterms i apologize ♡ word count: 3.7k

(request is here) Note: All characters originated from “The Uncanny Counter/Amazing Rumor” except for Y/n.

English is not my first language!!! Sorry in advance if I make any grammar and vocabulary mistakes.

Who would’ve guessed there was legitimately a place for the dead to arrive after life? Not exclusively for the completely-dead, though, it was created for close-to-dead people as well, like in your case right now. 

You remembered girl-bossing a little too close to the sun and falling into a coma over… whatever. But instead of sinking into everlasting gloom where you could no longer feel or think like how those Hollywood movies portrayed, you were embraced by a bleached-clothed person who flung you back and forth between a fonded place of your memory and a blank white setting just as bleached, informing you about the world full of “evil spirits” and lecturing you into becoming a “counter” if you wished to continue living. 

Since you were too young and beautiful, you refused to gaf about the possible risks of getting unalived for the second time, closed-eyedly concluding the verbal contract for a (hopefully) glorious future. 

“Um…”

Six pairs of eyes leaped over at you. Ms. Chu swallowed her noodles before responding: “What’s the matter?”

“Well, I…” 

You scratched the back of your neck out of instinct, briefly making eye contact with the rest of the table: “I’ve told you that I used to work in the fashion field, right?”

The chairman nodded his head: “Yeah, you did mention that the first day you came here."

There is no way you could back out now, not after you have entirely mustered the attention. Rotating unsaid words in your mouth while you observed their expressions one last time, hoping no one would find your sudden proposal weird: “If you don’t mind, is it alright if I… take your measurements and make some outfits? I just think it would be nice to at least do something in return for all the help I’ve been getting from you. I know it’s not a lot but…”

And that was how you ended up here, pacing around with a tailor’s ruler and a notepad. 

Your suggestion wasn’t really approved at first as the team reassured you that it wasn’t just their responsibility to be your advisor but, at the same time, they were happy to be there for you, and that you shouldn’t be bothered to “return” the favor. But who are you to stop? All the remaining brain cells of yours congregated to list down every possible reason why this was what you deeply desired to do, including your “burning passion for fashion” and “essentiality for experience and modeling purposes.” 

Thankfully, they all accepted your offer after ten minutes of hesitation. 

Scribbling Jeokbong’s results down on the piece of paper, you scanned around, looking for the last person your notepad was still missing: “Where’s So Mun?”

Hana zipped up her hoodie that had been removed earlier for you to record her sizes, nonchalantly answering: “In his room, I suppose. His phone died so he said he’s going to charge it real quick.”

You thanked her before grabbing the equipment and making your way to the place mentioned. The hallway submerged itself in peaceful tranquility, conversations feebly reverberated back from the dinner table where your teammates gathered.

You knocked on So Mun's door to announce your presence, which was unnecessary since he was quick to notice you through the circular window: “Hey, do you mind if I…?”

“My turn already?” So Mun watched you nod with his signature amiable smile: “Sure. Do you need me to step outside?”

Sneaking a peek through the furniture and simple decorations, you stopped at his figure and moved closer. For some reason, the floor felt strangely unfamiliar as if you were a fawn testing its first step: “Nah, right here should also be fine, this won’t take long.” 

The soothing atmosphere was filled with the subtle rustling of the measuring tape. Each touch of the tape was deliberate, like a delicate caress, ensuring precision in every little detail. You made a mental note of the circumference of his wrist and the length of his arm. So Mun was also very cooperative, staying still with a straight posture while you interchanged small talk: “So, what kind of outfits do you plan on making?”

You hummed, letting out a chuckle when he cracked up from the ticklishness of the stroke: “I’m not sure yet, maybe I can hear what your preference is after this? That way I can get a plus point for customer service too, a win-win for us.”

He lightheartedly went along with your playfulness: “Oh, I can’t wait!”

“Um-hm, now don’t squirm around or I’m gonna put you in a Chucky fit.”

“So we also do cosplay? Interesting,”

Soft laughter resonated. You were so diverted by the bubbly ambiance flowing from So Mun that you didn’t notice you had leaned over to slide the tape behind his neck, encircling it attentively to avoid any signs of discomfort. It was a calming afternoon, causing the source of light to be perceptibly minimized. As much as you tried to pin your focus on the assessment, your unamenable mind kept on targeting his lower-half face that popped into your view. 

So Mun was adorned with a kiss from the dim sunlight glow, and for this one time you were given a chance to admire him this close, you were dazed to see how ideally shaped his jawline was, sharp enough to cut grass while the plumpness of his lips tamed the roughness down, two aspects blending perfectly like yin and yang.

Now you knew why the ground felt strange and your stomach flipped. 

In front of you stood a young man who seemed to have stepped out of a webtoon where its protagonist was an underrated visual until the later season. Charismatic and fascinating, his gentle yet chiseled features must’ve been carved out under the skilled hands of the most proficient sculptor, embellished by an air of youthfulness. 

From the very first glance, you were absolutely convinced that So Mun was, indeed, a local heartthrob. 

His effortless charm easily attracted gazes and turned heads among those who crossed his path. Dark, tousled curls framed a face that was abundantly favored by the eyes, easy to remember but not easy to forget. His thick brows added the final touch to the astounding side profile and praised a pair of expressive gemstones that accommodated secrets untold. His pupils illustriously mirrored a pellucid surface of the water, holding both innocence and wisdom within those splendid irises that had been dyed in a ravishing deep brown color. 

And the scariest part was that every time you laid your eyes on him, he seemed to become prettier. 

Now that you have stumbled across his vicinity, you secretly prayed to every known religion (or just your own sanity in general) that you would commit nothing out-of-character to give away how bad you’ve already grown to fancy this man. Or else… there will be no “or else.”

Still, something had been peculiarly off. 

It must’ve occurred to be some kind of hormonal chemical imbalance going wild right now. Because hell, the last time you found yourself feeling so jumpy around another person was when Hana nearly knocked you out after twenty minutes of physical abuse training (trust me, she did go 10x easier on you compared to how she went on So Mun and Jeokbong). But this specific man right here was not your mentor, nor was he about to beat you to a pulp. All he did was exist and let you take his measurements, periodt. 

Maybe he was just remarkably snatched? It couldn’t be since your adrenaline level didn’t act (this) weird around Hana and Motak. Sure, your heart rate did climb notably when situated in close proximity with them, but with So Mun in particular? 

It skyrocketed.  

A long, deep breath silently expanded your lungs, working extra hard to untie the obstructive tensity. You stared at the tiny numbers on the tape measure and mentally repeated it two hundred times in an effort to inscribe the result in memory. However, it was suddenly an impossible task because of how disconnected your mind was at the moment.

So Mun was too close to you right now. Not dangerously close, yet the distance was limited enough for your head to spin and your heart to pound. 

You have no clue if you should embrace this internal madness or not, but you certainly acknowledged that your lucidity and dignity were shrinking after each passing second. It’s going to be bad if you don’t get out of here soon. 

“Y/n, why’s your face so red?” 

Shit.

“What? No.” You denied without missing a beat, which laid bare your disobliging trepidation almost right away from how fast you responded.

So Mun marginally narrowed his eyes with plain disagreement: “Yes, it is. You’re not feeling unwell anywhere, are you?” 

An invisible sigh of relief dropped when you realized he wasn’t aware of the tangible distraction you felt around him but rather centered the strange enhancement of color on your cheeks. You assured yourself that it was only you manifesting the accusation against yourself, so you tried gaslighting him into thinking he was the drama instead: “I’m fine, really. Are you sure it’s not you who is seeing things?”

“Huh? But your face wasn’t red like this earlier, I swear I’m not mistaken.”

Unfortunately for you, So Mun’s intelligence ran in his family. So you must’ve been in your sweet dream to expect a detectives’ son would be fooled by such a half-assed reason.

Each motion of yours was helplessly cornered like a prey waiting to be demolished under his unceasing focus, especially when two of you were the only ones in the room right now, all alone and suspicious: “Hold up, if you’re not sick… why are you blushing?”

Your mouth was clenched shut. Even the tiniest sound pealed loudly in the current confined space, reflecting your nervous gulp as clear as day. 

So Mun called your name again after the short pause, sounding even gentler than how he usually spoke in that… ludicrously charming voice of his: “Y/n.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell me…” The way he drew the last syllable out slightly longer hurled a thud into your chest, sparking your diffidence. You heaved your eyes to meet his own only to regret your decision immediately as you were welcomed by a cunning smile he tried hard to suppress: “...you’re getting shy?”

You squinted and looked down, knowing damn well you, in fact, were shy as fuck: “No. Why would I be?”

“Yes, you are, you can’t see yourself right now but I can, you’re blushing all over the place. You were fine just now, were you not? Why suddenly get shy?” He closely beheld your reaction, allowing a grin to plaster as the traitorous shade of pink on your cheeks evidently declared how you truly felt: “Is it because of me?” 

“Because of you?” Knowing he had successfully caught you red-handed, you tried the hardest to play it off cool with a sassy eye roll while hanging the tape just a couple of millimeters away from the width of his shoulders: “Where did you even get that from? 

“From the way you act?”

“Dear customer, you’re delusional.”

“Am I?” 

“Yes, you are.” 

Instinctively holding your breath, you enclosed the measuring tape around So Mun’s chest with great caution, arduously ignoring how you could already tell his physique was too attractively in shape under that black compression shirt. Every time he inhaled and exhaled, the tape stretched ever so slightly then loosened after the relief— Fuck, okay, stop. 

“Am I really delusional or are your hands shaking right there?”

This little shi– did not just call you out like that. 

His voice vibrated down from the top of your head, bordering between intentional cockiness and unintentional flirtatiousness. You never discerned that your fingers had grown to tremor abstractedly due to how faint the movement was, yet he could easily detect your restlessness just from a few playful glimpses. Never in your life you felt this terribly exposed in front of someone. It was like he could see right through you like a piece of glass.  

“You…” Shamefulness followed you like your own shadow. The immense heat on your cheeks was no longer pleasant to say the least: “Stop talking. Just let me get this done.” 

On the other hand, So Mun, whether or not had progressed to be fond of your painfully flustered self, mindlessly dropped the ultimate bomb on you: “Do you like me?”

You swore you saw your heart fly out and wheel around the ceiling in horror. 

If the tape measure wasn’t made of plastic, it would’ve been torn in half between your violent grip. You bit the inside of your cheek timidly and landed a weak punch on his shoulder. Agitation and embarrassment blanketed your half-whisper: “Just… be quiet, Mun.”

“Fine, fine, I was just joking. I’ve never seen you get this red before and…” So Mun laughed softly, though the laughter quickly dissolved into quietude as he caught a menacing glare from you: “Guess I got carried away, my bad.” 

Speaking of the truth, he didn’t mean any harm rather than just breezy teasing. It was you and your hormonal, backstabbing blush that created the whole awkward situation. You shifted your ruler down and laced it around his waistline, half of the frustration in your tone replaced with sheepishness: “You sure did have a lot of fun, didn’t you?”

“But you’re so cute like this… ” His chuckle brightened the air. Even though you weren't in the mood to appreciate the random compliment, just the word “cute” itself was enough to awaken those dormant flowers in your stomach and rush them into vigorously blossoming like it was a sunny spring day. 

You fought back a pout from arising, not sure if you should continue putting up an annoyed act. But before you could respond, your entire body froze as his voice suddenly appeared to be alarmingly close to your ear, tender like a passing cloud except it could facilely have you where he wanted if he ever wanted to. 

“C’mon, don’t lower your head, I’ll stop pointing your blush out.” 

Despite your concentration still being attached to his waist as you read the measured number, his toned abdominal muscles that somewhat divulged themselves under the thin compression shirt were nowhere near your zone of attention. Your nail dug into the tape, feeling your composure slowly fracture like a dainty little eggshell ready to be crushed. Timidity dispersed as uncontrollably as a broken dam when So Mun’s warm breath fanned your skin. 

It didn’t seem like he had a single clue as to how his gesture—purely coming from curiosity—tremendously affected you. The more he dipped his head and leaned closer to yours, the louder you heard your own heartbeat roaring.  

You turned away to hide how vulnerability had completely enveloped your face. A tiny crack echoed in your voice as you stuttered, trying to break free from his oblivious stare: “So– So Mun…”

“Hm?” The fire under your skin rapidly magnified within just a blink of an eye, to the point you were afraid it would explode, yet he still didn’t catch on to the silent plea in the way you called his name, instead taking it as a warning that you were getting exasperated: “Don’t be mad at me, I promise I’ll be quiet.” 

Even the sketches and doodles hung on the wall avowedly held their breath as if acknowledging the hide-and-seek negotiation unfolding before them. You clutched your eyelids closed and your body stiffened, dodging his gaze like dodging bullets. 

One sense had shut down, offering a chance for other senses to intensify. As So Mun leaned down searching for your face, the minty and earthy note of his shampoo washed over your nostrils, delightfully freshened from the vague men's cologne you smelled first stepping into the room. 

His breath ignited on your awfully reddened ear, goosebumps traveling up your spine while his scent created an intoxicating merge into your source of oxygen: “Let me see your face, will you?”

Suddenly, pressing under your chin were warm fingers that had calloused up from life journeys, determined yet tender and careful enough not to startle you as he tried to lift your chin up: 

“Come on, I don’t bite.”

“What takes you kiddos so lon— Oh my, are you two kissing?” 

From the inside of So Mun’s room, you could already hear noises of flabbergastation ringing like afterschool bells due to the exclamation. 

You and So Mun jumped away from each other like getting struck by electricity as soon as you saw Motak’s face appear behind the door’s window, amusement wafting in the way he looked at you two. You almost choked to death in your own panic, words collapsing when they reached your mouth: “It’s not what it looks like!! We’re just— We— I’m just taking his measurements!”

“Then why are your faces so close together?” Motak moved aside for you to storm out of the tension-filling room, raising his brows with great gaiety when So Mun followed your way out like a puppy. The tape measure was grasped brutally in your palm, hoping to be counted as evidence. But catching the wide grin that had seemingly been engraved on the older man’s lips, you doubted he’d buy your excuses.  

“Wait, so you were about to kiss and I interrupted? Damn, sorry lovebirds.” 

“No! It’s— we really did not…” Footsteps clouded the hallway, the whole team was quick to be summoned for the delicious tea. Out of the blue you lost all nerves to face them, your explanation slowly dissipated into a nonverbal ‘yes’ to the accusation with how much speechlessness you assembled. 

Hana tilted her focus at your skin’s crimson tint, her hidden protectiveness loomed out of armor and she threateningly gave the origin of your blush a good nudge: “Yah So Mun-ah, why is Y/n’s face so red? What did you do to her?!”

Gazes launched over the man of the moment with suspicion, making him hold his hands up in defense: “What do you mean, noona? I swear I didn’t do anything!”

He turned to you for confirmation, but your exchange of looks was impeded when Ms. Chu walked over to wrap her motherly hands around you, cooing with adoration and happiness as if she'd just listened to your wedding vows: “Oh dear, I knew it from the start you two would make such a cute couple. I’m so happy for you my babies.”

You swallowed heavily: “But we’re not—” 

“I can’t believe these two have made it this far, even faster than us…” The chairman ignored So Mun’s refuting head shake (as well as Ms. Chu’s side eye), giving both of you a thumbs up: “Right, Chu-yeosa?” 

“Don’t bring me into this.”

From the other side, Jeokbong engulfed So Mun in a side hug and patted his back pridefully: “I’m proud of you, very proud, So Mun-ah. We raised you so well, even getting a girlfriend before your hyung.”

“Hyung, listen to me—”

“Our So Munie, I never knew you had that in you, hm? Now you punk got the team’s stylist all to yourself.” Your beloved found-fam didn’t give you any opportunities to prove yourself innocent. Motak elbowed So Mun playfully with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The more he talked, the more gasoline was poured into the flame of your embarrassment: “Anyone surely gets bolder near a pretty girl, right?”

Hana took a sip of her Milkis: “Isn’t it supposed to be the opposite?” 

“Everyone, hold on a second.” You spoke up, almost sounding desperate: “ So Mun and I have nothing to do with each other, this is just a misunderstanding.” 

Pausing shortly after your clarification, you looked over at him in search of a helping hand:  “Right?”

“Huh– yeah, right. We… Y/n is right. Plus, we’ve only met not long ago, how can anything develop between us this quickly?” So Mun hastily nodded his head. Both of you took turns clearing up the affair:

“Exactly, he’s right.” 

The hallway seemed to hold time in place, slowly absorbing your explanation as amused stares remained affixed to you and him.

The chairman quirked his eyebrows up: “So nothing, huh? More like nothing yet.”

“Let’s see how long you can keep denying.” You inwardly facepalmed yourself, your ears burning ferociously pink as Motak shot you a knowing smile. Levity once again suffused the air when you caught him leaning into Ms. Chu’s ear and whispering; both of them then snickered loud enough for you to hear: “I bet a month.”

“I’m serious, we’re not gonna—” 

“Oh, did I say something?”

Hana casually waved her hand in dissent, not even attempting to stop a half-smile from permeating her gorgeous face: “I bet longer. Look at how much they already lost their cognition just from being in the same room, they’re hopeless.”

Jeokbong briskly chimed in: “Like how Ms. Chu and the chairman are?”

“What did you say?!” 

Rambunctious laughter followed the sight of Ms. Chu smacking Jeokbong on the back. It was pure chaos, but not in a bad way. 

A chuckle managed to slip through your lips. The awkwardness was no longer bothersome but rather narrowed down into a silly feeling in your chest. You cast a glance at your assumed partner, coincidentally locking eyes with one another as his attention had also rested on you since forever. 

You spotted a trace of rosiness sprinted across So Mun’s cheeks, perhaps it had unwittingly blossomed when you were still committed to clearing up the dating scandal. And he smiled—one that was sheepish but sweet nonetheless, one that sent you into a hall of chaotically winging butterflies. Unspoken words lingered in the air, but you didn't mind them. 

If luck would have it, this could be the start of something incredible. But that’s only the matter of the upcoming future, right now?

You just figured out you’ve deadass forgotten all of the measurements you took of So Mun…

[Tag List]✿⌦ @slytherinshua (feel free to notify me if you want to be on the tag list)

Lol i tried making it as spicy as “kiss and makeup” since the request asked for suggestive but us and Mun've only met for a short period of time i didnt know if we should kiss (yet). Hope this is okay @acupnoodle thank you for the cute idea ily ♡

[shiroi---kumo]

Vaaleanpunainen Leimahdus is soul bind to Lord Aurinko and bound to him as his fourth bind. Leimahdus handles everything Medical and is the Head of the Medical Council board that oversees all medical personal within the functioning Kingdom as a whole. He was once Aurinko's History / Medical Professor but has taken up his role to oversee Misterica's Medial branch as a whole since Aurinko became King.

He sees to Aurinko and Kuu's health personally and once took care of Sinfonia's until Liekki bonded with Prince Usva and took over Sinfonia's case. Leimahdus takes his job extremely seriously even if he's all smiles most of the time. He is one of the kindest men you'll ever meet but can also wreck your life with a snap of his fingers if he finds out you're putting Misterica or her people in danger. He is not a man to make enemies with. He is one of the most skilled doctors Misterica has ever seen in her History.

[weird-an]

Fear is a shitty advisor.

Anger is a better one. The problem is that Billy is afraid all the time. When his dad comes home and he's snapping at Susan for asking how his day was, Billy is scared. When he has to flirt with a girl, he's scared, because it doesn't feel right and the implications are terrible. Billy tries not to think about it.

The scariest thing of all is how his stomach feels when Steve Harrington sits next to him in algebra class, brows furrowed and scribbling down equations. When he's in the shower with him and Billy is hot and cold at the same time.

So, Billy tries to fire up the anger. Looks down at Harrington and scoffs, spits around pretty boy and tries to make it sound like an insult, like it isn't an understatement because Harrington is the most beautiful person he has ever seen.

Unfortunately, anger and fear together are a disaster. Especially because Harrington isn't only a pretty face, but can bite back. It makes Billy's skin crawl.

"You know," Harrington says to him one day, under showers of all places, massaging the shampoo in his hair. "Pretty boy always sounds like a compliment."

It feels like the water has turned ice cold. Billy can only hear the thunder of his pulse, nearly drops the soap he's holding. It's a secret, a shameful one. One he's so fucking scared of. The water washes away the anger, too.

"What?" Billy laughs and it sounds even more fake than usual. "Keep on dreaming, pre-"

He cuts himself off.

"Just sayin'." Harrington snorts and washes the shampoo out of his hair. The foam runs down his chest, along his stomach and - Billy stares at the wall.

"I don't mind it," Harrington says. Billy looks back at him, hands closing into fists. He has to keep up the act.

"I don't fucking care what you think," Billy snarls.

"Oh, of course." Harrington doesn't sounds convinced. His brown eyes are fixed on Billy.

"Do you need help with that?" He points at the soap. Billy's stomach sinks.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He clutches it tighter. The scent of Irish Spring tickling his nose.

"No," Harrington says. "Let me."

He grabs the soap out of Billy's hand. "Turn around."

Billy clenches his teeth so hard it hurts. He tries to look for the anger, but it's gone. Fear clogs his throat.

Harrington's hand is on his shoulder. Squeezing a little. "Relax."

Billy turns around. Harrington's hand is warm, guiding. It's almost easy. He shouldn't give in, he thinks.

"I think you're pretty, too," Harrington says. He runs his hand down Billy's back, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. "Especially like that."

Billy wants to sneer, but the noise that escapes his mouth sounds almost helpless.

Billy's head spins when Harrington's hand rest on the low of his back. His thumb presses against Billy's skin.

Billy knows he should be afraid. He just can't remember why. Harrington's finger wander down to his ass cheek. Cupping and kneading it, greedy and sure.

Harrington laughs in his ear. "Oh, you're perfect."