#fom x reader

Caldarus will never stop loving the softness of your lips on his.

It isn’t just the physical sensation of kissing that appeals to Caldarus (though, trust me, he adores it). There’s an emotional aspect as well.

Kissing you makes him feel…human. Or, humanly connected to you, at the very least. 

That isn’t to say he feels insecure about his human-esque form, or feels he cannot love you the same way as your fellow humans. Not at all. He just loves connecting with you in distinctly human ways. Kissing, especially on the lips, is such a distinctly human way to express love. He is overjoyed when he gets to relearn humans through you, after his long slumber.

He wonders often what you feel when he kisses you, what his lips feel like to your mortal ones. He hopes his are as warm as yours.

Hayden is the world’s biggest (and best) hugger.

This is just common knowledge. Hayden loves giving and receiving hugs. Hugs are not partner exclusive for him, either; if he knows someone, he’s hugging ‘em.

That being said…you definitely get the rights to some extra special, super exclusive hugs as his lover. 

When Hayden hugs you, his hands splay across your back, like he’s trying to feel as much of your skin as he can. He holds you impossibly close and squeezes you tightly, but not enough to hurt. Years of handling animals have taught him the perfect amount of pressure to apply in any embrace (he hugs a LOT of animals). 

Each and every time you hug, he nuzzles his cheek against your hair and coos words of adoration. No, he never runs out of sweet nothings for you.

Reina loves letting you lay your head on her chest.

There’s nothing she loves more than allowing her hardworking farmer to rest with her at the end of a long day. She gets so much satisfaction and joy from laying with you and letting you snuggle into her chest.

Her biggest love language is acts of service (largely through cooking). Acting as your pillow makes her feel like she’s providing for you, but in a cuddly way! What can she say? She’s a pamperer.

She runs her hand through your hair every time, either humming one of the songs her mother taught her or chit-chatting about her day.

Occasionally, you fall asleep like that, nestled against her. She never wakes you. You need your rest! She stays put until you wake up (or, more often, just falls asleep with you).

Valen never misses the opportunity to rest a hand on the small of your back.

The dear town doctor is a bit teasing with her touch. She likes watching your body respond to hers, even in the smallest ways. She’s very observant of how you react to her attention. 

On evenings spent at the Sleeping Dragon, she slides her hand across your lower back as she takes a seat on the stool next to yours. She lets her hand linger there once she’s settled.

Valen isn’t one to interrupt your conversations with others when she wants attention. But she isn’t one to sit idly by, either. Instead, she approaches from behind and silently waits her turn. This waiting, of course, includes her placing her hand on your hip and giving it a small squeeze, before her fingers wander to your back and wait there while you finish your chat.

Juniper gets cranky if she doesn’t have time in the day to rest her legs on you.

At the end of a long day, there is nothing Juniper enjoys more than draping her legs across your lap. She particularly enjoys doing this while she drinks wine and, well, whines LOL. Or gossips with you. Often both.

It’s something she can do in private, that both lets her be in control of things but also shows you that she trusts you and enjoys your presence…without having to say so aloud.

She never asks you to, but you can tell from the almost imperceptible red hue that appears on her cheeks that she loves when you rest a hand on the bare skin of her leg as you listen to her, nodding along to show your focus. And when you start tracing soothing patterns with your thumb? She has to take a sip of her wine to hide her face.

Ryis knows it’s basic, but he can’t help the way he loves holding hands.

Ryis is a romantic. He knows it. You know it. Everyone knows it. 

Holding hands is classic. It’s cute. (“Almost as cute as your smile,” in his own words.) He loves it. It gives him even more of the warm, fuzzy feelings he associates with even just the thought of you. 

His favorite time of day has become his breaks, when you make the time to join him on the Eastern Road for a few minutes. You two sit on a bench across from the tree you grew together and watch the birds.

No words need to be spoken when he slowly moves his hand closer to you, his pinky finger grazing yours. You merely laugh and intertwine your fingers. He gives your hand a squeeze in reply.

Eiland insists on linking arms whenever you two stroll together.

It is nonnegotiable for him! He wants to be your gentleman, always. He grew up with a lot of etiquette training, and by gosh, he wants to finally put it to use!

I’m being so serious. If it weren’t for you being the most capable adventurer he knows, he’d be throwing his coat over puddles for you. (He still will if you let him. Don’t, by the way; you both know he likes his clothes and will be sad after.)

Eiland knows he can be a lot at times, and that his mind can wander. Having your arm in his, with you walking steady at his side,it grounds him. It makes his thoughts go from flitting here and there, past and future…to settling on you, and your present. Together.

Adeline absolutely melts whenever you hold her face in your hands.

She had no idea how much she liked the feeling until you came along. 

One day, she was rambling, stressed over her duties and feeling like she wasn’t doing enough. Mid-sentence, you gently took hold of her face, your hands cupping her cheeks. You swear to this day that you watched her eyes turn heart-shaped in real time.

She didn’t know she needed that sort of thing until that very moment. And now that she does know, it’s become your patented tunnel vision breaker. Whenever Adeline gets in her head, you lovingly cup her face and all her thoughts turn to jelly.

Sometimes she can feel an anxiety attack coming on and goes to you before it gets bad, lifting your hands and pressing them to her cheeks.

Celine can’t keep herself from kissing you on the cheek.

She just loves giving you little smooches to show her appreciation! You do so much for her, and for Mistria, on a daily basis. She can’t help but swoon over you.

To Celine, cheek kisses are simple, sweet, and effective. And she can do them in public, too! They’re not overboard PDA. To her, they’re just right.

No matter how many times she gives you a quick peck, she always blushes afterward. It’s a Pavlovian response at this point. Even if she’s keeping her cool pretty well, there’s no stopping the giddy flush on her face and the little giggle she lets out.

The thought of telling you hurts. He can imagine the questions you'd ask him, the look of disappointment on your face, the betrayal you might feel by it. He's hates the thought of turning his back on you like that. Months ago, he had promised you that you would be helping Mistria get on its feet again together. All your work has been intertwined since that day. Every morning when Balor comes to check on your shipping bin before the sun has even risen solidifies that. It's a truth he can't ignore. He works better by your side.

It's the first time he's ever had a partnership quite like this, and he fears it will be the last time, too. Moving away from Mistria for better pay means leaving you behind. There's no world in which he can have both. And now, he has to make the choice. A glamorous life working far, far away from Mistria, or staying in the one place he's started to feel is home.

The decision is tearing him apart piece by piece, and he's never once felt this fragile or indecisive. Months, even weeks ago, he would have packed his bags overnight and left before morning, chasing opportunities as fast as the wind. He's always been selfish, self-preserving, self-obsessed, and any other vain word one could describe him as. Balor has heard them all, and every time has been unable to defend it. It's the truth, after all. There is nothing that drives him quite as much as tesserae in his pocket. Over time, he's tried to embrace it, living year after year as a vagabond.

He's never shown anyone how lonely it can get. No one ever seemed to care. No one, except you.

He's never given his deepest wants any time to consider. He's always been stubborn like that, convinced that this way of life is the only one that suits him. He doesn't deserve stability or a place to settle down. He doesn't need a home—things like that just aren't compatible for him. And who would even want to make a home with him? Who would even give him the chance?

You.

It's always been you, day after day, month after month. Every time you show up at his stall, every morning you eat breakfast with him at the inn, every night you stay up talking in his room at The Sleeping Dragon, spilling your wants and fears and aspirations. You are the first person who has ever made Balor feel a little less alone—that is why he feels so torn at the thought of leaving you. No one has ever cared if he stayed or not, no one bothered to make a strong connection. Only you.

Balor knows as much as he wants to hide this secret from you, word spreads fast in this town. The second he spilled it to Hemlock at breakfast, he knew it was only a matter of time until you got the news.

The knock on his door is desperate and rushed. He doesn't even have time to answer it before you let yourself in, breathless and determined. Balor expected this. There was no way you would let him go without a fight, and that thought makes his heart feel both guilty and loved at the same time.

"You must be out of your damn mind, Balor," you rasp, staring daggers at him. He stands, pushing his hair back in an attempt to get his thoughts together. How is he supposed to say it to your face? How is he supposed to say goodbye to the person who made him feel the most alive?

"Business calls," he mutters, feeling smaller than ever. Where has his shameless pride gone? Why does he feel so shitty about the whole situation? He should be overjoyed. "I answer. You know me… this is what I do."

"So you're leaving just like that?"

"I already overstayed my welcome. Mistria doesn't need me anymore—" Balor tries to argue. It feels weak and useless. He's dancing around the elephant in the room, too scared to address it. You do it for him.

"I need you, Balor. We're supposed to be in this together, a-and now you want to throw it all away for what? A higher salary?" you stammer, your emotions raw on your face.

Balor feels worse than he thought he would. He's quiet, studying you as if you have the answers. The pain in your eyes is clear as day. The crease of your eyebrows is a desperate plea for him to stay, and the way you gnaw at your lip anxiously a silent confession. The realization hits him like a stab to the heart. He can't leave the person he's fallen in love with.

EILAND

Eiland, despite how knowledgeable and observant he can be, is still as dense as the artifacts he discovers. Perhaps its a royal trait passed down on him, or maybe there's a missing connection between his brain and eyes, but he's missed all the signs thus far.

If you weren't so down bad for him you would have found it frustrating. Instead, it's somehow endearing. The entire town is seated for the entertainment of it all—when will Mistria's beloved lord Eiland realize his own feelings?

Juniper has offered to make you a love potion for him to speed up the process. Reina has planned nearly a dozen dinner dates for you, all of which have been perceived as merely platonic by your dear prince. Holt has given you insights to a man's perspective on it, but even he agrees that Eiland is a rare and almost hopeless case. How could someone be so blind to your pursuits?

You're not even sure how much more you can take before you shut up his excited rambling about Aldarian history with your lips. But still, you force yourself to be patient. One of these days, he has to realize your feelings for him, right?

Today is not unlike any other day spent with Eiland. You've made a fresh strawberry cake—sweet whipped cream and juicy berries filling the layers of soft sponge. It's always been Eiland's favourite. You think his excitement every time a dessert is involved is adorable, and you always find yourself feeding his sweet tooth more and more.

Eiland had sent a letter to you this morning about deciphering an ancient scroll he had come across. You make a good team together, uncovering more about Mistria's past than ever before. Eiland gets delighted whenever you find so much as a speck of new information.

Today's work has stumped Eiland. The words you're picking out from the ancient text seems to all be flowery poetry and figuring out what the meaning behind it is proves difficult. The information you have so far is limited. You know the letter is from an old Aldarian king, but neither you or Eiland can figure out who it's addressed to or why the letter was sent.

"Pass over the cake, I'm having no luck with this," Eiland says in defeat. You slide a piece over—already his second—and scoop some up with your spoon. Holding it up to his mouth and prompting him with an 'ah', Eiland doesn't even question it. He opens his mouth and lets you feed him, a satisfied hum following as he closes his eyes to savour the sweet taste. From the corner of the room, you see Elsie winking at you. You smile back knowing exactly what the scene looks like.

There's nothing that says best friends about it. Eiland's desk is a mess of papers and pens, always enough stationary for both of you, always set up for two. His chair is pulled up right next to yours; too close to not suggest something different. And then there's the way he relaxes next to you every time, as if your mere presence reminds him to relax the tension in his shoulders and let his neck have a rest from hunching over his desk all day.

To the outside eye, it couldn't be more clear. But Eiland still lives oblivious day by day.

Your eyes draw back to the scroll laying on the desk, shifting back and forth between the text and feeding Eiland spoonfuls of cake. You notice one of the words at the top of the letter, almost entirely worn away but just barely legible. Juniper had talked about ways ancient Mistrians' referred to their lovers while trying to help you with Eiland. You recognize the word to mean dearest lover.

You straighten in surprise, losing hold of the spoon in the process in a way that causes some cream smear to the side of Eiland's lips. He opens his eyes again in response to your startle, noticing the spark in your eyes as you piece it all together.

"It's a love letter, Eiland! The king was writing to his dearest lover—look here," you exclaim, pointing to the top of the scroll again. Eiland leans down in excitement, gasping at the detail he had somehow missed.

You get lost in the way his lips turn up in a smile and earrings sway. The shimmer in his purple eyes drawing you closer and the bit of whipped cream on his lip tempting you further. You reach out to wipe it away. Eiland's breath catches in his chest. You're suddenly very close, perhaps too close. He tries to distract himself.

"So the ancient nobles used poetry to win over their lovers… How… romantic…" he whispers, eyes drawn back to yours. His cheeks are dusted with blush all over.

"What about modern day nobles?" you ask quietly, drawing yourself ever closer to Eiland. He takes a breath, considering it carefully.

"I think… they tend to be a bit bolder nowadays."

Your heart soars when you hear that, knowing you've finally got him. When you lean in, his lips are sweeter than you could have imagined. Perhaps its the lingering taste of the strawberry cake, but you have a feeling that Eiland always tastes like this. Whichever it is, you'll have many more months to find out, because when Eiland pulls away, flushed a bright red in shyness, he looks at you with only one emotion in his eyes: love.

HAYDEN

The scene is perfectly domestic in a way that makes Hayden almost shiver. The sun is just starting to peek through the windows of his cottage casting golden beams on the counter-top of the kitchen and the couch where you sit. Henrietta is in your arms, happier than he's ever seen her, and something feels unmistakably right about it all.

You had stopped by his farm early this morning, still sleepy and hair clearly not brushed yet, asking if you could have breakfast with him. Who was he to say no to that adorable sight?

Ever since the news of a new farmer moving into town reached Hayden, he's been curious about you. You became good friends within a few weeks, but something started to shift lately. Over the past six months, you've started putting extra effort into ranching on your own farm, and your passion for it is undeniable. Hayden has always loved like-minded people, those who understand his love for animals and how precious they are. Someone who also wants to spend their life caring for them. Seeing you like that made something in his heart shift. You're kind, patient, perseverant… you fit all of Hayden's standards almost too well.

Love is a tricky subject for Hayden to tackle. He's always felt content in his independent life, alone with his animals for company. It's never felt lonely. There was never anything "missing". He's seen Josephine and Hemlock, Nora and Holt be perfect lovebirds, running the town through the strength of their strong marriages. Hayden has watched their families grow and the town become more lively because of it.

But he loves the quiet life, the routines, the farm-work. He loves Mistria with all his heart, even if the town was far too small for the chance of meeting new people. Everyone knew that newcomers arriving to Mistria was rare. The small community was part of its charm. Growth was a hard thing to achieve.

But when you arrived after the earthquake, determination in your eyes, and a goal that everyone could see, you started to shake Hayden's small world. Every improvement you made to the town: helping with repairs, boosting sales, growing more food locally—made impacts bigger than anyone else ever had before. For the first time, the small town of Mistria started to grow bigger than it ever had.

Hayden has always admired your work ethic. You never seem to tire, and are always up for a new challenge. You learn quickly, are amicable with everyone, and generous beyond nature. But he also adores the faults he's seen in you too. How short-tempered you can be when you reach a stumbling block, your mutters under your breath trying to keep up with all your tasks, and your panic whenever you arrive back home so late your animals have fallen asleep outside. You're not perfect, but you always keep moving forward, and Hayden couldn't ask for anything more in a person.

These thoughts surrounding you swirl in his head as he cracks a few eggs into a sizzling frying pan. They're still warm, freshly laid this morning. Next comes beautifully browned pieces of toast, slathered with butter he had mixed up just two days ago from a fresh batch of cream. Hayden takes pride in his animals and their produce. Happy, healthy animals means fresh, nourishing food.

He sets down the plates on the table and you shoot your head up at the smell. Henrietta squawks, hopping off your lap, allowing you to rise and join Hayden at the breakfast table.

"Looks delicious, Hayden! Thank you, this'll wake me right up," you say, rubbing away the last bits of sleep from your eyes and smiling at him. Hayden's breath catches, strong hands gripping the back of his chair. He waits for you to take a seat before settling down too, eyes never able to leave you.

Maybe it's something about the angelic quiet of the morning, or the soft glow of the sun streaming on your face. Hayden can't help but imagine spending every morning just like this, making you breakfast, talking about the plans for the day. A gentle companionship, something that wouldn't take away from the life he's already built. When Hayden thinks about it, he realizes how perfectly you already fit into it. The way you greet his animals on your way inside. The way Henrietta bawks excitedly at your arrival every time. The way his lips can't help but burst into a breathless smile when he sees you.

Maybe—Hayden thinks—this is what love feels like.

MARCH

Your daily routine confuses March. You spend all day running around, completing different errands. Some days you're planting a new field of seeds. Others, you're delivering something for Adeline. And at least three times a week you're at the mines, digging deeper for fresh ore and gemstones. Your schedule has been busy since the first day you arrived, and March cannot imagine having so much energy and excitement for everything. It makes him exhausted just seeing it.

But what keeps him pondering is how you always take time out of your day to talk to him. Usually you have some ore to give him as well. In the beginning, he tried to refuse it, feeling as though accepting it would hurt his pride in some way. After months, he's learned how determined you are. There's no refusing you anything. You'll always find your way to do what you want, and that includes giving him freshly harvested minerals daily.

Your streak is almost impressive… not like March has been keeping track or anything. You're nearing almost six whole months straight without missing a single day. You're always stopping by first thing in the morning or late at night before heading home—not like he's paid close attention to that—so when the clock strikes 1AM and March still hasn't seen you all day, he starts to wonder what's keeping you. You've never been this late before.

March can't sleep. He tosses and turns in his bed; his pillow feels too warm despite it being a chilly Autumn night, and his blankets scratch and irritate his skin. Why didn't he see you today? Have you finally decided to stop pursuing him so stubbornly? Has he finally gotten rid of you for good? No more interrupted work at the forge? No more bracing himself when he sees you across town and knowing you'll start sprinting towards him any second?

If that's the case, then he should be happy. He's wanted that since the first day you arrived and started bothering him like it was your only daily mission. But… he's not happy at the thought. In fact, he feels the opposite. His chest tightens and his mind is cloudy when he thinks of his day ending without seeing you, without talking to you.

At first, your daily conversations were something he tried to end as fast as possible. But now he's gotten used to them, and perhaps even… looks forward to them. But no, he shouldn't care. If you decide to stop whatever routine you've crafted for the past six months, March won't even bat an eye. His life was fine before you came into it. He can easily go back to pretending like you don't exist.

But he still can't sleep, and the thought still continues to bother him throughout the night.

At 5AM, he gives up trying to sleep. A hot shower and fresh clothes does enough to hide his eye bags, and although he's tired, he has enough energy to start on a new order for tools at the forge. It's a bit early to start business, but it beats staring at the ceiling while you race in his mind. He's starting to get annoyed by how you refuse to leave his head. You decided to not stop by to see him, yet you won't let him stop thinking about you for even a second? Unfair.

He's able to ignore the pit in his stomach for a few hours as he works, getting half the order finished by lunch time. There's still been no sign of you. Just as he's accepting that his suspicions are confirmed—you really have decided to give up your daily visits—he squints over at the fountain. There you are.

He averts his eyes immediately. He can't look too excited to see you again, or you'll never let live it down. But still, he sets down his tools and wipes his hands on his apron, preparing for the impending conversation.

"Morning, March!" you say, cheery as ever.

"It's afternoon," he points out, stuffing his hands in his pockets and turning towards you. Damn, you look prettier than usual.

"You're right—guess I'm a bit late," you shrug, opening up your bag and sifting through it.

"Where were you yesterday? You didn't stop by," March asks, trying to sound as uninterested as possible, even as his heart races to know the reason. If you've stopped by like usual, then surely his original thought must be wrong. You still like seeing him every day… right?

"Ah, I was at the mines!" you explain, biting back a smile. "I lost track of time, though. By the time I got out, I was about to pass out. Plus, I'm sure you were already asleep. It was way past 1AM." He was definitely still awake at 1. He would've opened the door for you. "And look what I found while I was down there!"

You pull out a shiny piece of metal from your bag and plop it into March's hands. He holds it up, studying it. The most perfect gold ore he has ever seen. It's too rare to be turned into a regular bar—heck, it should probably get displayed somewhere. He's never seen a piece of metal so flawless.

"For you!" you grin, eagerly awaiting a response. March just gulps, hoping his red ears don't give him away completely.

God, what have you done to him?

RYIS

When Ryis first started taking orders over from his uncle, he often found it overwhelming doing everything by himself. He's good at his craft, and enjoys it fully, but the demand could easily overload his own ability to keep supplying. But, ever since you've started taking on more jobs with him, he's felt that burden lessen. You're not just a great farmer, but an excellent carpenter, too. Ryis has always found himself drawn to passionate people. Perhaps your talent is what keeps him so invested in you. Hours a week spent in your company still isn't enough for what he craves.

You've been quite productive this morning, stopping by the shop early and getting straight to work on a new set of bookshelves for a library commission. The birds singing has been your background noise, and you flow together with Ryis so naturally anyone would think you've been working together for years. In truth, it's only been a few weeks.

"You know, you're quite like a bird yourself," you say offhandedly, catching Ryis' attention from the other side of the porch. He's at his workbench, biting at his pencil (a habit he can't seem to quit) while thinking of what type of wood would hold up the best for the main bookshelf. It'll have to hold a lot of weight, and given the ornaments and embellishments the commissioner wants, he'll need to pick a wood both sturdy and easy to carve. Mahogany is probably his best bet, although it'll be expensive to supply. You're sorting through some of Landen's old toolboxes, searching for broken pieces and signs of wear.

"How so?" Ryis prompts, turning a fresh piece of paper over to sketch a new print idea.

"You and all your sisters growing up together in your parent's bakery—your "nest", so to speak. But you couldn't stay forever. Birds have to learn to fly on their own eventually. I think it's brave of you to be the first one to take that step. You took a leap of faith, and now look at you? You're soaring," you grin.

Ryis flushes a little. You spell out the thought that he's has had for a long time so clearly. Like you extracted the exact ideas he's had in his head and put them into words. His fascination with birds has always come from a feeling of solidarity. But it's also mixed with admiration (he's sure that anyone could tell that much).

He envies their innate ability to survive and adjust. Birds, upon close observation, have distinct patterns and behaviours. They always seem to know exactly what to do during each stage of life. Migrating south, returning to certain forests for mating, or even the best spots to find food for their young. The many guidebooks he owns on them gives him all the secrets he needs to appreciate all the native species. Their similarities and their differences. He finds a piece of himself in all of them.

Ryis wishes there were a similar guidebook to tell him what he should be doing with his life. You tell him that he's soaring, but most day's he isn't too sure. He misses home; his parents, his sisters, the bakery. At the same time, he's doing his best to make a new home for himself here. He loves living with his uncle and taking over the carpentry business. It feels fulfilling enough. But he feels lonely sometimes too.

"You seem quiet. Thinking?" you inquire, walking over to his bench and pulling up a stool.

"You know, I've always felt a little conflicted. Most days, I feel so glad I took the risk and moved here. I love how closely-knit the town feels. I love seeing how much I can help out. I love having nature in my backyard and waking up to the sound of birds chirping," he smiles. You can't fully decipher the mix of emotions behind his eyes.

"But I also miss the Capital. My family was always busy with business. Even with me and all my sisters, we somehow always felt short-staffed at the bakery. It was always loud… chaotic at times, too. But it felt like home, you know? And, I miss it…"

You pass him a sympathetic smile. "Homesick?"

He nods, biting on his pencil again. Melancholy is an emotion you don't like on Ryis. For someone who shines so brightly in your eyes, he looks deflated. But even in his down-turned state, he's still beautiful. You trace your eyes over his chocolate skin, strong calloused hands that suggest the years he's put into his craft, his deep brown eyes that have stared at you with both wonder and excitement.

Ryis glances back at you, granting a smile that tell you not to worry. He doesn't have to say it out loud for you to know. You make Mistria feel more and more like home every day. With every look and every conversation. Every project you complete together, and each hour you spend birdwatching with him. It's all been adding up faster than Ryis can keep up, but he doesn't need a guidebook to know that he's fallen so in love with you.

© mistria-chronicles ── do not repost translate or copy

Right away, he tried to self-reflect, just in case he had done something to contribute to this outcome. “Have I done something to upset you?” he blurted out at once, his voice unsteady. His mouth hung half open as he wished to ask you so much more, but had to refrain to pace himself.

You shook your head. “No, Cal, you’re fine,” you started, ready to explain your reasoning, but by that point, he was already fretting.

“Then why do you wish to go on a break for something we both actively enjoy?” he asked, tears rising to his eyes. “Have I not been satisfying you properly?” he asked again, without giving you time to consider the first question. “I know I have said that being in this new form is strange to me, but I have been doing my best to—” he stopped himself, coming to stare at you with wide, startled eyes. “If you’re not happy, then please, let me try and do better—”

At last, you were able to catch him, rendering him silent for just a moment. “Cal, breathe. It isn’t that,” you assured him with a patient, grounding tone. Your hands reached out to take his into your own, keeping him from trembling. “I’m only suggesting that so you can get more settled in your form. Maybe sex has just been… too distracting lately, when you should be focusing on other things?”

“D-distracting?” he echoed, tilting his head to the side. His long, teal locks fell like silk, catching on his robes. “How could something so pleasant be distracting?”

You brought his hands to his chest, trying to explain it the best that you could. “Because you’re still learning how to even live in this form, aren’t you? Maybe you should be reading more—which you’re already doing, mind you,” you added with a light teasing tone that didn’t quite land on him. “Maybe if you didn’t have to think about intimacy for a while, you would be happier?”

His brows knitted in genuine confusion as he tried to process your words, his tail coming to nervously swish around against the tiled floor. A shaky breath left him as he tried to form a response, initially failing to do so. When he tried once again, he was slightly more successful in maintaining his voice, even if it sounded as nervous as before.

“I don’t understand why you should propose something like that at all, is what I’m lost on,” he said, trying to keep himself steady before continuing. “A good part of living has been the ability to explore everything,” he said, dropping his hands from yours, coming to cup his palms around your face instead, his touch searing hot, “and a significant part of that means exploring you—especially you,” he added before taking a deep breath. “Yes, I will admit that I am greatly enjoying catching up on the history of an era long gone, but it would be a waste if I couldn’t experience you alongside those things, of which I get to learn of your pleasure—and mine,” he added, his face darkening as a certain sort of heat spread across his features. “I apologise for how messy I have been as of late, but do not wish that for a second at all that I desire to be parted from you.”

You considered his words, already feeling silly about suggesting a break at all. “Alright, Cal, I’ll not propose something like that again, but… you’ll have to meet me halfway also, here. I know you’re new to a physical form, but can you… initiate more?”

Caldarus caught your implication right away, dropping his hands from yours at once as he reached to pull you close to him. One hand came to rest on the back of your head, crushing you against his chest, while the other settled over the middle of your back. He hushed you softly, petting you with soothing motions.

“I always, um, wish to,” he admitted quietly, his face looking guilty as he forced himself to confront these thoughts and feelings. “Always,” he added, but then immediately ceased just as his hands found your hips, as if embarrassed. “I am new to this,” he admitted after. “It will take me a while before I can… request so openly,” he added, his golden eyes, however, sharpening as they settled on yours. “Unless you show me—tell me—exactly how you wish to be desired?”

At his plea, you tiptoed up to meet with his lips, pressing a kiss to his mouth, walking him back a few steps until he met with the cool press of the wall, nearly tripping over his tail in the process. Without thinking much, he reciprocated the gesture, kissing you back as if it were a secondary instinct.

“I want you to try being more assertive,” you suggested, pulling back just a little, coming to meet with his flushed face.

“A-assertive?” he repeated, blinking down at you as if he were unsure all of a sudden. “I-I can try,” he quickly said, accepting the challenge.

Within a matter of seconds, he tried to hoist you up, pulling you to meet with his impressive height head-on, encouraging you to find stability by wrapping your legs tight around his waist and to secure your arms around his neck. He kissed you again, his head tilting to find your lips. “Like this?” he asked, seeking your validation.

“Yes,” you nodded along. “But you’ll have to assume that I like everything you do, so no asking questions.”

A heavy gulp passed down his throat as a look of visible nervousness broke out on his face, nodding quickly. Without prompting you any further, he walked you back towards his bed, gently pushing you down against the mattress, coming to hover over you with his clear hardness pushing against you. His skin was scalding by now, searing into your skin through your clothes as he loomed over you. The heat that spread from his body was almost too much, and his eyes burned with want.

“I desire you so utterly,” he admitted at once. “I wish to show you just how much.”

A warm bloom of something hot and anticipatory anchored in your gut. You watched with bated breath as he moved down you, your body half draped over the bed, and your back sprawled out over the mattress. When he met with your lower end, he paused to take off your clothes, coming to stare at your bare form a second later.

“Exploring your body has been… heavenly,” he stopped to admit, his hands slowly parting your legs. “I wish to show you my appreciation.”

Before you could respond, his mouth was already sealed tight between your legs, his tongue tracing along the sensitive skin. Your back arched on reflex, your chest rising outwards with your fingers clawing at the sheets, almost tearing them in the process. His mouth felt so eager, so willing, as he worked on you.

“You taste incredible,” he praised, his voice low and gravelly, his face buried in the apex of you. “I wish to explore you like this—taste you like this—all of the time.”

“C-Cal—” you gasped out, your hand shooting down to grab his hair, instead stabilising yourself as you settled on one of his horns. At your touch, he pushed himself even further in, his motions becoming almost violent in their intensity, eager to have you become putty in his hands.

For if you wished for assertiveness, he would give it to you—he would have you surrender at his mercy and then take care of the mess he had created, melting under what he was responsible for making you feel. He loved how your body responded—how human you were, and to be denied this pleasure all because of misguided consideration—would have ended him entirely. He did not want that. No, goodness, no. He wanted to show you just how important it was to him—how important you were at all.

The intensity of his attention deepened, and by now you were building up to something you could no longer hold back on. Your legs quivered with anticipated release; a warm tingle rising from your coiling gut, the rising pressure gripping your insides. Your hips bucked slightly forward, filling him even further with the taste of you. Your legs were close to giving out entirely, flooding him with your much-anticipated release not even a minute later.

You panted heavily as you felt yourself come, your breath still hot, your vision a blur of stars and whatever else. When you looked back down at him, a new expression settled on his features. Pride, maybe?

“That was incredible, Cal,” you admitted. “How silly of me to even suggest a thing…”

He smiled at you then, wiping your residue off his chin. “All forgiven,” he said softly. “But please, don’t think such things again.”

~~~

March: 2 days

March had a bit of a problem in bed lately, in which he was perhaps trying to prove something to you that you didn’t see the point in. For whatever reason, he kept on trying to last as long as possible, to the point where neither of you would come. It almost felt like an attack on your self-esteem after a while, because he would keep on going until he reached physical exhaustion, unable to finish, leaving both him and you blooming with mutual frustration.

When he proposed, earlier on, another night that you were certain would lead nowhere, you turned your nose at him in an instant.

“Nuh-uh,” you pouted, turning away from him in bed, rolling off to your side, leaving him looking visibly stunned. “It’s just gonna last forever, and then we’ll both be sweaty and frustrated.”

March blinked at your back as you mumbled under your breath, his brows creasing in frustration.

“Now, just what the hell are you talking about?” he asked. “It’s all about the feeling anyway, isn’t it?”

You huffed under the blankets, pulling them over your head to block him out. Maybe you were being immature, but you were also tired from being neglected, the release you were craving so badly.

“Yeah, I like the feeling, but I like the build up too, March,” you blurted out at once, all of your pent-up feelings spilling into the open, “because it means we get to cum, which we haven’t been doing—”

He blinked at your outburst, suddenly lost for words.

“So, I propose that we have a little break until you last less in bed,” you suggested, suddenly feeling silly over how odd it sounded.

A breathless scoff left his lips. “As in a break from sex?” he asked.

You hummed agreeably, turning around and letting the covers fall, coming to face him once more. You could see him look visibly frustrated under that mess of red hair, glaring at you with disbelief. His jaw was pressed tight as he bit his tongue, fighting to keep his composure in check.

“You do know that I only try to go for so long because I think you like it, right?” he asked you, sounding a touch defensive. “You’ve never told me you dislike it, so you’re putting a ban on sex, why, exactly? Don’t you think you’re being unfair?”

At this point, though, you were so far deep into it that you had no choice but to stand your ground. “Yeah, and I’m giving you a break from having to try that hard,” you replied. “Give you a little chance to barely last a second in me.”

March could only stare at you as you gave him the strangest ultimatum he had ever heard before, sagging his shoulders, dropping into bed.

“Well, alright,” he muttered after, not sounding too pleased, but not willing to entertain the matter further. “A week, then. Whatever.”

However, long after you had woken up, and long after even a day—let alone two—had passed, March was already losing it. Somehow, that entire outburst of a conversation felt like an attack on him personally, and you were criticising a vital part of him. Yes, he was going for a longer time because of the noises you were making, but he didn’t do so with the intention of prolonging his release, let alone putting it off at all. He straight up just didn’t know you didn’t like it.

By the end of the second day, therefore, with visible frustration written on his face, he confronted you as soon as you were both off from work.

“So, you want me to fold for you then, huh?” he asked you as soon as he saw you getting ready to head in, his voice loud and assertive.

You blinked and looked around, just in case anyone else was nearby. Thankfully, it was just you two.

“March?” you replied.

“You want me to barely last when I’m in you, is that it?” he asked you again, unable to help but tease you a little. The distance between you both quickly closed as he walked right up to you. His voice lowered when he was right in front of you. “You want it that bad, huh?”

A scoff of a laugh tore from your lips. “It hasn’t even been a week yet.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t,” he replied, mirroring your scoff. “If you really want me to fuck you stupid, though, I’ll be glad to,” he promised, his hands coming to settle on your waist, pulling you close to him.

You blinked at him, laughing breathlessly. Your eyes were now a little too fixated on the rest of him as you spotted a look of genuine yearning fixed in his gaze and the way his arms were so tightly bound with tension that his veins pulsed beneath his skin. He was a little grimy, too, his flesh slick with sweat and peppered with grit after standing behind the furnace all day long.

“March, I—” you uttered, your words suddenly lost.

“You want it just as bad, huh?” he challenged, his voice softer now.

“If you remember our talk, then yes—”

He interrupted you quickly. “I’m going to be so intense, he quickly promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “Both of us will barely last.”

Then, after a pause.

“That sound good to you?” he questioned.

A choke of a gasp left your lips, shuddering from the way his hot breath rolled against your skin as he spoke. “Y-yes,” you obliged, already determined to scrap that silly notion of a plan, ready to dive into his promise.

March smiled widely, then leaned in closer, whispering into your ear, “So, how do you want it?” he asked, pulling back to look into your eyes, before proceeding anyway, the answer finding him a second later. “Or, no, wait. How about I get you on your hands and knees and see how far deep I can go before I can’t take it anymore?” he offered, promising you something that was built from pure sensation.

“Yes, please,” you found yourself blurting out.

March let out a soft breath, walking you back into your shared house, letting you both inside as he guided you through the interior. He turned you over at once, positioning you so that you landed on your hands and knees, wasting no time in helping you out of your workwear, already making quick work of his own. Just as swiftly, he pushed his bare form against the soft give of your ass, groping the mound roughly, making his interest abundantly clear. His cock throbbed against your entrance already, letting you feel the heat of his arousal pulse right at the edge. “Ready?”

You sounded out a soft hum of approval, your words already lost.

Letting out a breathless sigh, March guided himself into your entrance before slowly—almost agonisingly so—easing himself into your core, letting you adjust to the sensation of him, before beginning to move. He went slowly at first, just like you were initially used to, before his hands curled around your hips tighter to find purchase, and he started to snap forward in impactful lunges.

Your breath was pulled from your lungs as he continued to bury himself as far into your sex as he possibly could, finding that each time, the air felt stolen from you. This repeated motion began to loop as he focused on deep, heavy strokes rather than just speed alone, already starting to lose his composure from being so tightly buried within you. The friction was so delicious—the noises you uttered were so intoxicating—the build-up was already happening.

Though first, it was you who surrendered—something hot and tingling spreading through your lower stomach that had emerged in deep, sweeping pleasure—radiating hotness across your form. You cried out his name as he followed up second, lost in the sensation of his cock twitching from within, scalding ropes of built-up pressure finally spilling deep inside of you.

The force of his peak was so great that for a moment, when he pulled back, he went slack before steadying himself. You, on the other hand, were not so subtle, and your knees went weak over the bed, resulting in both of you stumbling over one another, becoming hopelessly entangled.

“A-again tomorrow?” you asked, drunk on the sensation.

A breathless laugh left his lips. “I’ll try,” he gasped, his voice all gravely and low, “maybe for this kind of intensity, breaks are actually needed.”

You laughed, too, supposing he might be right. “Yeah, maybe.”

~~~

Balor: 1 week

When you had first proposed a sex ban for Balor, likely after becoming a bit too tired of hearing his business ventures where they had no place to be repeated—such as the bedroom, right before you were about to have sex—he thought you must have been joking. He thought you were being a bit of a tease, maybe wanting him to grovel before giving him what he thought you both wanted, but then, he found out that you were being serious.

Even after he had dramatically begged for your forgiveness—at his knees, no less—asking for your mercy, you confessed that you were not joking at all. Your expression remained fixed and stern, and you revealed to him that you were at your limit.

At that, he finally, albeit reluctantly, obliged. If you were upset with him and wanted to have a break from intimacy, fine, he wouldn’t push you into anything you were uncomfortable with, but it left him feeling empty in the following week. For one, it was already impacting his life in a way he did not like: suddenly, everything seemed off—even his sales were not built up with such a spark anymore. When speaking to his friends about anything at all, he found himself all dry and closed up. All he cared about in the last five days was making things right with you.

Come Saturday—your usual date day—he was already hoping to amend his wrongdoings, keen to never repeat business talk in the bedroom again, by taking you out on a date and treating you to a nice, big meal, but you were nowhere to be found.

This, alone, already impacted him more than he wanted it to. On a personal scale, he was the one who was used to being the distant one in personal relationships, but this was something far more serious than anything casual. He wanted to have a life with you, so if you were genuinely upset, then he, too, was upset with himself. He did not want to run from this problem, finding that if he were to resolve whatever he had caused, he would have to confront you and fix this.

By the time he had come home, he was a mess as he dragged himself to bed—to you—his eyes glinting with apology as he fell to his knees at the edge of it, his hair dull, his gaze entirely fixed on you.

“Let me start by saying that… you are so important to me,” he began, the apology evident in his voice, his hand reaching out to take yours, kissing you by the knuckles. “You know that, right?”

You allowed him a small, sleepy nod. “I mean, I hope I am.”

“You are,” he insisted, his tone firmer that time. “I shouldn’t be talking about others when the focus should be us, I recognise that now,” he said, reflecting on his earlier actions, feeling regret surface. “All I want at the end of the day is you. Only you.”

“Balor, I understand… if maybe the sex ban was too much,” you began, already backtracking.

“No, you’re right,” he said, holding his ground. “It forced me to think back on what’s a real issue in our relationship. I have been acting too… selfish in our talks. It’s always been about me, my business or about vendor drama, and… that was stupid of me,” he admitted. “I want to amend all of this by making our time in the future about us—only us—no more business talk. What do you say?”

You nodded gently. “I’d like that a lot.”

Balor smiled, lifting himself only slightly so that he could crawl over the bed, coming to hover over you. He pressed his body down against yours, testing for your reaction, before anchoring himself downwards, planting a heavy, deep kiss over your lips. His breath was hot against your skin, his touch was light, explorative, as he felt all around you.

“Let me just focus on you,” he murmured.

At his touch and promise, you lifted your hips to allow his fingers to hook over your underwear, his fingers catching on the elastic. Slowly, then, he fumbled with his trousers, taking out his already erect cock before guiding himself to the entrance of your sex. Leaning back a little, he spat over the heat to coat his tip, before slowly pressing it against your opening, easing it inside with shallow thrusts until your heat enveloped him.

A soft groan of appreciation left his lips as he lurched forward, coming to rest both of his palms on either side of your body, bracing himself over the mattress. Your hips remained pointing upwards as you took him in, your legs spread wide, feeling him push and pull as he bucked into your core. Low, breathless moans were drawn from you with each impact from the sensation of him filling you so deeply.

Balor found himself quickly losing control as the pleasure rose, succumbing to the rising bliss from being buried within you, finding that a week away from you in that regard had already been too much. He leaned back at once, tugging your legs back, keeping your thighs apart as he started to rut into you with abandon. Rough grunts of aching need spilt from his lips as he pounded into your body, his movements quickly becoming an erratic mess as his end neared—of which happened so much quicker now that his focus was purely on you.

“Fuck,” he hissed out. “Almost—”

“Balor, oh god, please—”

At your plea, however, he found himself succumbing immediately, feeling something hot travel in a surge of release, spilling completely inside of you. He could feel his length pulsing, draining him completely of the anticipated release. His whole body was overcome with sweat—a slick sheen coating his forehead and chest before pulling out again—slowly—hissing again, but due to the loss of sensation that time, before collapsing right over you.

Your release was in time with his—squeezing out the pleasure at once—before your body too, collapsed over the bed, feeling his breath race to catch up as he recovered. You, too, heaved from the aftershocks.

“Don’t ever have me stay away from you for so long again,” he muttered sleepily, his nose buried into the crook of your neck, his words coming out as muffled. “And, let me take you out tomorrow,” he added hurriedly. “I didn’t get there earlier today.”

Balor:

he's very quick to notice, letting you know with a narrow-eyed grin

might flip or tousle his hair a bit before looking you up and down himself, meeting your eyes again with a playful gaze

"something that caught your eye?"

might bring this up every now and then just to mess with you

Hayden:

the truth is, though, that you caught his eye as well (and he can't help but admire when he thinks you're not looking)

he's a little bashful, but appreciates your adoring gaze nonetheless

probably laughs a lot when he's embarrassed, he can't hide a damn thing

this usually turns into friendly banter and his arm swung around your shoulders

you can count on Hayden to treat you to dinner, he wastes no time and plays no games

Eiland:

really not used to this sort of thing, so he's a bit of a mess (or a massive wreck, whichever you prefer)

he pretends he didn't notice but he's sweating buckets and blushing furiously

but then he just can't stop glancing at your lips and then your eyes and then...suddenly the floor is more interesting than everything else (save him)

makes some sort of excuse about a research breakthrough then runs for the hills

Ryis:

he may be a sweetheart, but he ain't that shy

why does he seem like a "my eyes are up here" kinda guy

and when you lock eyes, you really can't seem to break away

his smile is gorgeously devious...careful, don't fall for his charm (unless you wanna)

he'll take his hand and brush your hair out of your eyes, looking like he just won a grand prize (you, obviously, you're stunning)

March:

he acts like he doesn't care, or rather that it's just another boost to his ego

the redness of his ears betray him. he does care, and he is very, very flustered.

"tch...don't you have better things to be doing than checking me out? you're not even hiding it."

he's like a male bird, he loves to show off--expect him to be flexing his arms after this LMAO

Balor

"Mmm, no thanks." Balor stared at the hoe in your outstretched hand like it might bite him. "I'm a merchant. I negotiate. I persuade. I don't... dig in the dirt." You pushed the tool into his chest anyway and grabbed his free hand, tugging him toward the unplowed field. "Consider it market research! How else can you sell seeds if you don't know what its like to plant them ?" He sputtered protests the whole way, but his fingers stayed laced with yours with no physical resistance. Twenty minutes later and his fine blue cloak laid discarded on the fence, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, and cursing creatively at a stubborn patch of weeds.

"I hate this," he announced, swiping sweat off his forehead. "I hate everything about this." You bit back a laugh. "You're doing great sweetie." Balor shot you a glare, but it held no real heat. "When we're married, I'm hiring farmhands. A whole crew of them." Your heart stuttered at the casual mention of marriage, but he had already turned back to the weeds, muttering about investment returns.

Caldarus

"You want me to do what?" Caldarus examined the bucket of feed in your hands with deep suspicion. "Just... you know, scatter it on the ground," you said, demonstrating with a handful. "They'll do the rest." He took the bucket carefully, claws clicking against the metal, and scattered a handful of feed as though he was performing a sacred ritual. A chicken immediately pecked his toe and he hissed something in an old language.

"They are bold creatures," he observed, scattering more feed. "In my time, birds showed respect towards dragons." You held back a snicker with your your hand. "These are chickens dear, they don't respect anyone." Caldarus huffed but continued his task. By the end of the hour he had named three of them after ancient dragon clans and declared the speckled hen as his nemesis. When you finally led him back inside, he had feathers in his hair and fondness in his voice. "Tomorrow," he paused, "...I wish to try again."

Eiland

"I really should get back to the dig site," Eiland said, though he made no actual attempt to leave as you held up the wicker basket. You played your trump card without mercy. "Well, if you help me pick apples today I was going bake you a fresh pie." His eyes went wide and his resistance crumbled instantly. "Well, when you put it that way, I suppose the tablets have waited a few thousand years already. What's one more afternoon?" He took the basket and followed you into the orchard with considerable enthusiasm, practically bouncing on his heels as you handed him a ladder.

He examined each apple carefully before picking it, occasionally muttering about the historical relevance of apple harvest traditions. Towards the end of the day his fine clothes were creased and he had a leaf stuck in his hair. "I believe I've earned at least two slices," he said breathlessly, holding up his haul with obvious pride. "Possibly three." You laughed and brushed the leaf from his hair. "Don't worry, I planned on baking you a whole pie from the get go." Eiland beamed, then glanced at the remaining trees with renewed determination. "So what I held you pick more?"

Hayden

He found you struggling with a fence post before you even had the chance to ask for help. "Whoa there, let me get that!" Hayden jogged over and took the post from your aching arms like it weighed nothing. "You should've hollered for me. I was just next door feeding the horses." You wiped sweat from your brow and gestured at the remaining pile of lumber. "Since you're here, want to help me finish the whole line?" His face lit up like you had offered him a gift. "Do I ever! Nothing like good honest fence work to get the blood pumping."

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm, Hayden hammering while you held posts steady. He talked the entire time, cheerful rambling about Henrietta's latest antics and a funny dream he had about giant carrots. When the last post stood firm, he stepped back and surveyed your shared work with obvious pride. "Gya ha ha! Look at that! We make a pretty good team." He turned to you, his smile softening. "Maybe we could do this more often? The working together part, I mean. I like working with you." He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy. "Only if that's okay with of course."

March

"No." March did not even look up from the blade he was polishing. You leaned against the blacksmith counter and waited, batting your eyelashes. He lasted approximately thirty seconds before his eye twitched. "Why are you still standing there?" You held up the broken hinge from your barn door. "Because I need help installing the new one and you wouldn't put it on crooked." His scowl deepened, but you caught the flicker of reluctant pride. "Flattery won't work on me." You shrugged. "It's not flattery if it's true."

He made you wait another full minute before slamming his polishing rag down. "Dammit, fine! I'll help with one hinge, but you're providing lunch." He grabbed his tools and followed you to the farm, but once he started working, his complaints faded into focused silence. When the door swung perfectly smooth, he stepped back with barely concealed satisfaction. "There, happy?" You handed him a sandwich and he bit into it without protest. "Same time next week?" you asked innocently. March choked. "Absolutely not." But before he left, he took a mental note of every other hinge in the barn that could use replacing.

Olric

"You want me to help you move stones?" Olric's face lit up with excitement. "That's basically just lifting! I love lifting!--And rocks!" Before you could explain further, he jogged over to where the stones laid scattered from your latest clearing attempt. By the time you caught up, he had stripped off his shirt and was hefting a boulder that would have taken you 5 minutes to break down. "Where do you want this one?" he called cheerfully. "I'm thinking we make a pile someone over there?" You gestured towards the edge of the field and he made his way over, depositing the stone after stone with no problem.

You watched in amazement as he turned a full day's labor into a single hour of exercise. On occasion he would flex unnecessarily in your direction, beaming at you between hauls as sweat gleaming off of him. When the field was finally clear, he stood among the piles with his hands on his hips, surveying the work. "This was so fun! We should do this all the time. I'll bring snacks next time and--Oh! What your favourite protein flavour? I'll make you a shake too!"

Ryis

"I could really use a hand with the chicken coop," you said, leaning against the carpenter shop counter. "Some boards came loose in the last storm and I don't trust my angles." Ryis set down his chisel without hesitation. "Yeah, of course! Let me grab some extra nails." He packed his tools and followed you home, falling into step beside you with comfortable silence. A bluebird darted across your path and he paused to watch it vanish into the trees. "Eastern bluebird," he murmured, smiling. "Good sign. They usually only stick around places that feel safe."

He worked beside you with steady patience, holding boards while you hammered and offering gentle corrections. "Little to the left. There, that's perfect." When you fumbled a nail for the third time, he did not take over. He just steadied your hand and said, "Hey it's okay, there's no rush." By the time the coop stood solid again, your arms ached pleasantly. Ryis ran his palm along the repaired wall. "Nice work. You're getting better at this." You bumped your shoulder against his. "All thanks to having a good teacher." His felt his ears grow hot and he ducked his head. "Yeah--Of course, anytime!"

Being Proposed To

○ It is not easy to catch Balor off guard. He’d learned to read people easily, expressions on faces as clear as words on pages to him, and he was good at gaining the upper hand in his deals using his finely tuned people skills; what Balor wasn’t good at was trusting others. Wish as he might to let his guard down fully, try as he did to trust you, old habits died hard, and when he started noticing you keeping secrets he’d begun to prepare himself for the worst. When you asked to meet him to talk privately he’d felt his stomach drop but hadn’t let his smile waver, convinced that this would be it - that his since-silenced fear that this truly was too good to be true was about to be realized. 

○ In the time between your invitation and proposal Balor is a bit of a mess. Trying to convince himself more than anyone that he never truly invested himself in you when this was the inevitable outcome from the start leaves him leaned over the bar counter trying not to look distressed while downing a cheap swill at noon and even Hemlock can’t get through to him. He prepares as much as he can, relaying things he might say, that you might say, in a relentless storm in his head until it’s time to meet up.

○ So, while it isn’t easy to catch Balor off guard, when he meets you in a private, nestled away spot, pressure kept low with toned-down decor expecting you to leave him and you ask him to stay forever, he’s thrown for a wild loop. You’ve seen Balor flustered but never so much so that he can’t recover with a smile and a quip so cunning it’s hard to forget you’d ever gotten him in the first place. Now he flounders in a wide-eyed silence long enough to make you nervous, but before you can call out to him he’s wrapping you in a hug. Any doubts he may have had about the proposal are washed away with the relief that you aren’t planning to go anywhere. A swoon-worthy smile and delicate hands brushing across your cheek, a quick taunt about how bad you are at keeping secrets (“Is this what you’ve been ‘sneaking about’ doing all week?”) and he has the upper hand again - though Balor uses his newfound stage for earnesty, for once, sure to tell you just how special you are to get someone like him to truly want to settle down.

Proposing

○ Eiland is the type to get a little carried away with his proposal planning. It’s all very sweet, but he’ll have known he wanted to propose and started on the planning at least one full season before he ever actually starts to implement any of the plans. It isn’t that things start out as overly elaborate; Eiland just gets so excited over the new ideas that he has every time you spend time together that he nearly manages to fill the small journal he started writing his plans in. Between the journal and him being himself, it’s extremely difficult for Eiland to keep his proposal a secret from you for so long.

○ Eventually Eiland gets so overwhelmed with everything he wants to implement that he ends up asking Adeline for help. Try to keep it quiet as he might, they both knew that Adeline had learned of his plans long before Eiland brought them up. Fortunately, Eiland doesn’t know anyone better at organizing and streamlining notes and plans - or anyone more eager to do it. One all-nighter later (both of them were too excited to sleep, and when Elsie tries to get them to sleep she learns of their plans and ends up joining in) and they’ve all put their stamp of approval on a scavenger hunt.

○ Eiland is too excited to see your reactions to wait at the end, so he ends up meeting you at your farm first thing in the morning. You know something is up immediately, of course -there’s no way he’s really popped in for a 'completely random' historical survey- but you don’t find out what it is until you find the first note near where the two of you had discovered the statue of Caldarus. The note details a reason Eiland loves you, is labeled as ‘1’, and a small stone is held within. Eiland explains in perhaps excessive detail the historical meaning and location the stone is found, leading you to the next location. This continues for much of the afternoon, love notes posted in places you’d spent time with Eiland all across Mistria, until they finally lead you to the dig site. Once you get there Eiland tells you he brought you to the archeological dig because he couldn't think of a better spot, a spot with richer history, for the past to smile upon the future he hopes to share with you. Eiland put a lot of work into his proposal (though he enjoyed it) and seeing your reaction, he knows he’d made the right decision.

Being Proposed To

○ Eiland is a man of many interests, but a few very specific extreme passions. Thinking of things he might like as a proposal is easy, but trying to piece together all of his loves into something he’ll be over the moon elated with is a bit more of an undertaking. Still, Eiland deserves nothing but the best, and you know his smile if you pull everything off just right will make all the effort more than worthwhile.

○ Fortunately, the three people who know Eiland best are extremely helpful; Adeline has an innate sense for Eiland’s tastes and the organization of a minor deity, Elsie is a natural born romantic made to rival cupid, and Errol is a slyer man than most give him credit for. Between the four of you keeping airheaded Eiland oblivious is an incredibly simple task and all of your planning goes off without a hitch.

○ You start the evening asking Eiland if you can drop into his office one evening to show him an artifact you’ve recently discovered and want his opinion on. When you arrive he recognizes it immediately as an old style of die, outlawed for its balancing issues - a find borrowed from Errol for the occasion. You suggest he give it a roll, and as the weighted die lands on its highest number you reveal that there’s something hidden in Eiland’s desk. He’s quick to open the box (wrapped in a way that historically symbolic of important messages) once you give him the go ahead, finding a small, homemade strawberry shortcake inside with a ring placed gently alongside a message scrawled in whipped cream: ‘Will You Marry Me?” Eiland nearly knocks over his dessert in his rush to cover your face in kisses and words of acceptance - though, once he’s settled down he’s very quick to offer to share it with you. It looks delicious, after all, and there's no time like the present!

Proposing

○ Hayden struggles at first in finding a way to propose. It’s not that he doesn’t want to - quite the opposite. Once he’s sure Hayden doesn’t hesitate to get Henrietta’s blessing (something she chides him for not requesting sooner, seeing as she’s your biggest supporter) and have a proper ring made for you by March. Still, nothing he can think of quite fits. He wants to propose in a way that’s special and memorable, but also personal. Something you’ll see as romantic and beautiful, but also something that represents your unique and special relationship, and nothing quite fits into the mold he's created in his mind.

○ Hayden takes so long to come up with something that he starts getting scolded by Henrietta for procrastinating. It’s in one of these moments, Hayden offering weak defenses on why nothing feels special enough, that he finally gets an idea. Half-way through an excuse he smiles and asks if Henrietta would be willing to help him with a plan; she thinks he should have asked sooner.

○ Hayden asks on a sunny day if you’d be able to come over and help him with some of his farm work, giving the excuse that Valen’s put him on light duty (he feels bad lying but at this point the whole town is trying to help him out and Valen rather insisted he use her as an excuse.) When you get there you do help, some - already quite familiar with all of the animals on Hayden’s farm you help brush and pet some, but by the time you’ve finished with petting all the animals you find all the hard work to be done. Before you can scold Hayden for overdoing it he’s whisked you away inside to a candlelit table of fresh food. It’s after you’ve sat down to eat that you’re approached by Henrietta, who proudly presents the ring and note tied to her bow. Hayden’s sheepish smile clicks everything into place and it’s hard to wait for him to finish asking before you accept.

Being Proposed To

○ Honestly Hayden isn’t whatsoever fussed on how you propose - he’ll just be more than ecstatic that you want to marry him. Seriously: you could pop by unannounced while he’s mucking out the barn and he could be knee-deep in manure when you pop the question and he’d be happier than a rabbit in a strawberry patch (note: do not do this. He will crush you in a hug and spin you around immediately and he is covered in manure.) The difficult one to impress is Henrietta, and you’ll need an idea that gains her approval before you get her blessing; she may like you, but there’s a proper way to do these things!

○ Fortunately it’s not too difficult to come up with something that fits the bill; honestly, if the ring you pick out is shiny enough Henrietta likely deems it a worthy offering for Hayden’s hand, clucking in approval as you let her look over the pretty piece of jewelry. Henrietta knows how much you already mean to Hayden and your willingness to indulge her shows her all of what she needs to know to confirm that you're the right one to take care of him. Once you’ve gained her approval Henrietta is actually extremely helpful in terms of keeping Hayden distracted whenever you need a second to set something up, or if he seems to be getting suspicious. Henrietta will start prodding you if you take too long and have her run around too much, though, so don’t dawdle!

○ Aside from you, Hayden’s farm and his animals are the most important things in his life, so you naturally decide that on his farm surrounded by the animals out to graze is the perfect place to propose. Henrietta practically drags Hayden out of the house one sunny evening and while he sputters, wondering what’s gotten into her, he nearly stumbles right into your little setup. Firefly lights line the canvas posted above the both of you, a stargazing blanket spread in the grass just past the fence of the pasture. Henrietta stands proudly under the tented canvas right next to you, and you jump into your proposal as Hayden asks what all this is. He tears up immediately and, of course, crushes you in a massive bear hug to lift you up and spin you around, already babbling about the wedding and life after being married. You can’t help but laugh; “So I take it that’s a yes?”

Proposing

○ Honestly speaking March is a bit of a disaster for around a month before he ever works up the nerve to actually pop the question. After Olric helps March realize that he wants to marry you, March spends all of his time a bit distracted, wracked with thoughts, plans, and anxieties that keep him awake more than he'd like to admit. His state is pretty obvious, temper even shorter than usual and bags heavy under his eyes, but he won't feel truly better until he's gotten his plans set into motion.

○ The thing that takes March the longest is absolutely the custom engagement ring. While he's likely to know his partner's ring size from other projects, and he knows what they like, he won't settle for less than absolute perfection. He'll end up with at least one bin overflowing with perfectly good rings that just weren't quite good enough before he finally manages to make something worthy of what he's asking; though the average person would consider it a one of a kind masterpiece worthy of royalty, or perhaps a museum.

○ The actual proposal is a bit messy. He takes you to a private spot for a walk and is shifty and awkward for a lot of the way there. Expression emotion in words isn't something March is very good at and he fumbles through awkward compliments before getting frustrated with both himself and your confusion, ultimately blurting out that he's trying to ask you to marry him. March will start to ramble about how he knows what he's like and how much he appreciates you sticking by him through it all if you don't respond right away, and he gets so lost in it that he's actually surprised when you catch up enough to say yes. March knows all the work and anxiety he put into the moment was worth it when he finally sees that ring -his ring- on your finger.

Being Proposed To

○ Are you trying to kill him? You might nearly be successful if you are, the shock of hearing such a question pass your lips nearly enough to give March a full heart attack. If you beat him to the punch it’s because insecurity is making March hesitate - having you ask him to be yours in such a permanent way shatters his disillusions so suddenly he needs a moment to recover, though his slack-jawed staring is likely a little nerve wracking.

○ If you’ve been with March long enough to propose to him, you’ve likely been with him long enough to know better than to do it with an audience - doing something so vulnerable in any level of public setting would be deeply uncomfortable for him. Still, having to drop his guard so completely in a moment he wasn’t expecting makes March stutter - even just with you. He probably has to throw in some kind of remark before he accepts to give himself another moment to ground his thoughts, likely asking you if you’re crazy, or if you’ve forgotten just who you're asking to spend the rest your life with. A little reassurance and earnestly on your end melts March more easily than gold in the forge and he’s a blushing, mumbling mess when he manages to say he’d be happy to - though once he's recovered he warns you half-teasingly that once you're married you'll be well and truly stuck with him, but there's no taking it back now.

○ Regardless of what you used to propose to March, if anything, he’s going to insist on making your engagement jewelry. The two of you will design it together, if you’re so inclined, but he’ll refuse anything less than his own craftsmanship as a long-term piece. The reason for this is two-fold, and neither of those reasons are any of the multitude of excuses he fronts with. Complain as he might that he 'doesn't trust the work of some far-off craftsman he doesn't know', the idea of the jewelry that binds you two being made by a hand other than his sits ill with him. Making your jewelry also makes March feel somewhat better about the fact that you 'beat him' to proposing. Don't get him wrong, he's over the moon that you asked, but something about it triggers his competitive side and this evens things out in his head.

Proposing

○ When Ryis first realizes he wants to propose he gets himself a little stuck on the ‘how.’ A chat with Landen, who’d noticed Ryis’ distracted demeanor, helps Ryis realize that it needs to be special, yes, but it also needs to be him. Once he’s got that settled in his head a plan falls into place pretty easily. He works with March to design a ring and entrusts his friend to craft it; Ryis is deft with a hammer, but his skill is nothing compared to March’s, and you deserve nothing but the best for a piece this special. While March works on the ring Ryis gets to work on a craft of his own: a two-person rowboat.

○ Ryis wants the proposal to be romantic, but he’s decided to go with an approach that matches his straightforward nature. Once everything is set he plans to row you into the middle of the pond at the Eastern Road on a beautiful night and lay his heart bare under the stars; tell you how much he loves you, that he wants to marry you, and that he’s sorry for keeping secrets for the past season or so but that hopes this is enough of a payoff to make up for it. It’s not complex, and he worries somewhat that it somehow won’t be special enough, but Ryis is comforted in knowing that this is for you and him alone, and no one else has to love it as long as you do.

○ During the time it takes for this all to be set in place you get the distinct feeling something is going on, Ryis and March shutting up a little too quickly when you come around, and Landen grinning a little too brightly at you, but Ryis is good enough at misdirecting you that you don’t know what they're up to until it’s finally time for him to pop the question. Once he’s finally led you to the lake and taken off the blindfold he’d placed on you at the beginning of the walk, letting you see the beautifully decorated little boat he’d made under the moonlight it all clicks into place. In both of your excitement Ryis likely ends up proposing before taking you out in the boat, but he’s sure to ask if you still want to check out the view from the center of the pond with him anyway. Please say yes, he worked so hard on this.

Being Proposed To

○ Ryis, pragmatic and straightforward as he is, has discussed marriage with you more than once. You’re both more than sure you’re on the same page when you decide to pop the question. A busy week in early fall has you and Ryis spending time apart and it’s the perfect opportunity to plan out your proposal without him suspecting a thing. You already know what his ideal proposal is, in essence; he’s told you before that he wants something simple and unique - special, but not over the top, and it’s time to put those concepts into a concrete plan.

○ You recruit the help of the two people who know Ryis the best: Landen, who’s on Keep Ryis Distracted Duty, and March who reluctantly agrees to help design and craft a piece of proposal jewelry that’s both beautiful and practical for Ryis’ work. Landen is so excited he nearly puts his own back out, and March is shuffling uncomfortably when you ask, though you chalk that up to him being... himself. March is a bit clumsy in terms of secret keeping but Landen swoops in to save his fumbles more than once in the time it takes to get things set up.

○ On the day of you don’t waste time. You invite Ryis out to the market under the guise of celebrating the end of your busy weeks, and after you insist on paying for both your drink and his iced coffee Ryis insists on getting you something you’re eyeing at one of the other stalls. A walk takes you to a picnic you’ve set up by the pond on the Eastern Road and when you ask Ryis to open the basket to pull out the food you’ve packed he finds the jewelry March made and a heartfelt note in which you’ve written your proposal. When Ryis looks up he grins, responding by pulling a beautiful, personalized ring from his own pocket. You propose to each other under the swaying leaves, bathed in the blessing of songbirds.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

The carpet does not match the drapes, but we knew that already. March visits Vera for his routine bright red dye job with the consistency and commitment of someone going to church. The carpet is however fairly well-groomed. He’s not super meticulous about it, but he prefers to keep things cleaned up down there.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He is…surprisingly romantic. In his own March way. He’s not great with words, so physical intimacy is an opportunity for him to show you how much he cherishes you. That doesn’t mean he’s going to treat you like glass. He knows how much you can take. He just wants to make damn sure that you feel loved, appreciated, and of course, thoroughly satisfied. He is devoted to learning what you like best. Even when he’s losing his mind and his head feels like it’s full of clouds, those dark eyes are seeing you with crystal clarity. He hopes he can use his body to convey the depth of his feelings, since his words always seem to come out wrong. He’s a little awkward at first! But he really does love looking into your eyes, caressing you, and holding your hands as he drives into you. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

It’s only once in a while, once you’re dating him. His own rough, calloused hands are not his first choice when he has you. Before that, though, it was happening pretty often. It was necessary to preserve his sanity with how incredibly frustrated you made him. He would have just lost his mind if he let himself get all pent up. Or, he would have snapped and jumped you a long time before he was actually ready. He needed *some* kind of outlet and jacking off was way easier than confessing his feelings. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

So. The thing is. Even though you are precious to him…even though he tries very hard to be really nice when you’re dating…there’s still a part of him that goes wild over being a little mean to you. He delights in your reactions. He’ll do things like squish your face in one (large, calloused) hand and call you a brat just to watch you squirm. He’ll hold something up over his head so you have to jump, and hopefully climb all over him, to get it. He’ll shove you face-down into the pillow when you start babbling while he’s taking you from behind. There is no real harm intended and he will never take it too far; he just loves pushing your buttons. 

Singing his praises always goes straight to his dick. This is a button of HIS you can push whenever you want. He absolutely loves to get his ego stroked. If you do that while you’re also literally stroking him? He’s done for. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His favorite place to fuck you is *your* house! His bedroom is fine, but it’s attached to a shop and also his brother’s living space. Privacy is not guaranteed. Olric has probably knocked on the door to ask if March wants dinner when March was eating YOU for dinner. So…your farmhouse is just perfect. Nobody ever goes down there at night except the two of you, and it’s far enough removed from town that nobody could possibly hear the sounds he’s dragging out of you all night. 

However. It’s not out of the question that he might drag you off from a night at the inn or a festival to pound you against a wall; somewhere secluded, somewhere he’s sure no one else has any reason to be. Sometimes you just get him so turned on over the littlest things and getting all the way to either of your homes is just not happening. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He has a quick trigger. As Ryis so aptly noted, getting worked up is pretty much March’s hobby. And oohhhh, you get him worked up. You always have, one way or another. Getting March in the mood is not difficult. Things that will do it 100% of the time; being a little sassy, being extra sweet, letting him guide your hands as he shows you something at the forge, acting super impressed by his work, buttering him up with praise, and giving him *that look* from across a crowded room or busy town square. That last one makes his knees weak every time. It’s like you start glowing while everyone around you fades away. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No sharing. No, no, no. You may have good intentions by suggesting bringing someone else into the bedroom for some fun, but all poor March will hear is “I’m not enough for you.” He is determined to meet any and all of your needs through his own efforts. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s really good at giving head. It’s kind of crazy. Who taught him all that? (He taught himself by practicing on you). Your legs will be shaking and you will be seeing entire star charts. The chances of him stopping before your shit is rocked are basically zero. 

That said, he still slightly prefers receiving. Seeing you on your knees sucking him off is like a dart of pure bliss shot straight at his ego. It makes him feel like he’s king of the world. It’s also oddly romantic to him—you’re doing something for the sole purpose of making him feel good? That’s an act of love in his mind, sure as anything. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s an intense guy by nature. His default setting is to get you good and ready, and then pin you down—or lift you up—and pound you. He’s entirely capable of softer and slower sex, though, and he does genuinely enjoy it. Just communicate what you want and March will accommodate you. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He actually likes quickies. While naturally he’s a huge fan of the long nights you spend exploring and pleasing each other until the point of exhaustion…there’s something so exciting about stealing you away from an evening at the inn to fuck you silly before you both stroll back over like nothing happened. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Depends on what risk, exactly. The risk of harming you? No way. Getting caught? He won’t let it actually happen, but walking the line is hot. Experimenting with new positions? Very much yes. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He has too much stamina honestly. He spends all day every day swinging a hammer around next to a blazing hot forge, so it’s no surprise. He has a short refractory period and a high level of physical fitness, so a round two (or three) is yours if you want it, whenever you want it. He’ll keep foreplay up for so long you’ll be begging him to just fuck you already. The flip side; he doesn’t last veerryyyy long once he’s inside you. He is not a two pump chump or anything, and he is gradually improving in this area, but yeah, he’s not long for the world with your walls around him. It doesn’t help that just being naked around you is nearly enough to send him over the edge. Short fuse and all that. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own any actual toys and doesn’t want them involved. Yes, he is a craftsman, but he is also a very proud man. He doesn’t need some object doing his job for him. He’s totally fine with things that only enhance the experience or spice things up, like blindfolds or restraints. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

As we’ve established, he can be a lil mean. Now, that doesn’t mean he’s seriously degrading you —he adores you. He’s just a smug bastard who likes getting a rise out of you. When you started dating, he mostly suppressed the worst of his rough and callous behavior. It comes back out in bed. Your mere presence tortured him for months. He can imagine no sweeter revenge than teasing you before he lets you have it. Getting you to beg for it gets him so turned on he can barely survive it. 

He is also perfectly happy to let you mess with him, even if he pretends to be mad about it. Working him up and then trying to walk away produces some delicious results. Everyone’s winning. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s a vocal person all the time and that’s especially true when he’s having sex. He 100% talks you through it. He acts so cool about it, just like all those times he patiently explained blacksmithing techniques in that deep, gravely voice of his. It’s a fun little game to find out how fast you can make him lose the plot.

He simply cannot cum quietly. A major contributing factor to why he likes to fuck at your house. The smallest sound he’ll ever make upon his release is a strained groan. Most often, he will be muffling a scream into your pillow or your shoulder. It’s a blessing you don’t have neighbors. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

March has some deep-seated issues. When you spend your entire life bitterly guarding your heart, you don’t just magically have no problems with emotional and sexual intimacy—even with the right person. And make no mistake, he is certain you are the right person for him. He’s just working through some stuff. One of his main attempts at retaining a feeling of control over himself was to delay sleeping with you for a good while even once you were in a committed relationship. At the same time, he really, really wanted you. What this potent psychological mixture created was several weird nights early on when he’d come onto you like a man possessed and you’d think, finally let’s goooo this is happening, only for him to suddenly stop with no explanation. He would get cagey if pressed about it. 

Eventually, he just processed whatever he was processing and popped that cherry. Sex with him has been very natural and very fun ever since!

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

You can’t have an attitude like that without something to back it up. He’s a gifted guy, and I’m not talking about his famous forging skills. Yet he’s not so massive that penetration will hurt or require extensive prep to be possible. Basically, if you endured the great and trying journey of breaking through the walls of steel that March built around his heart, you get to reap the reward of enjoying his practically perfect dick. 

His body is just divine. You didn’t need to wait until dating him to learn that—he made sure you knew it. That time at the beach when he was all, “if you’re going to stare, can you do it from further away”...that was a clumsy attempt at flirting. He wanted you to notice how ripped he is. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Between the point in time when he realized he was into you and the point where you started having sex, his horniness level was frankly insane. It presented a genuine problem. Acting unaffected around you took constant, dedicated effort, and he still failed…often. 

Now that he’s getting laid on the regular, he’s more normal about it. He’s always into you. That hasn’t changed. He’s just more able to focus on other things when he’s not around you, because he knows he’ll have you again before long. A sustained burn versus a raging five alarm fire. If you have some span of time when the two of you can’t go at it, he will revert to the old ways. He starts getting twitchy if it’s been more than four or five days. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)