#And more that i am simply failing at BOTH lol

[freebooter4ever]

one of the biggest ironies of my life that i was thinking about yesterday - i know that drag and drop / node-based 'coding' helps a wider (usually more visual) variety of brain types learn to program. this was the entire basis of the research group i was on for seven years in the burgh, and i completely agree with and support it. but im not that way at ALL. im that stereotype who likes pure code, and finds it easier to read the language and find patterns in the words/numbers/formatted lines than in nodes. i HATE nodes, and sometimes even fellow programmers look at me like im crazy for it.

Like dont give me that pretty but controlled interface, i want to know whats underneath.

[miirohs]

he looks up, grinnin' like a devil [r.n.z]

pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Fem!Reader wc: 0.5k cw: minor spoilers an: i feel like this man needs a fic from my bc he lives in my head rent free. anyways dont get mad at me if this isnt accurate lol i did everything based off the live action n i plan on reading the manga (eventually)

"Zoro?" You huffed, laying still on the floor of the quarterdeck, eyes shut as you bathed in the sunlight.

There was no response and you frowned, calling again.

"Zoroooo."

A few beats of silence, followed by clunking on wood and and a grunt as shade was cast over your closed eyes. There was a thump and you grinned.

"What?"

You cracked open an eye lazily, staring at Zoros' face as he bent over you, watching you closely.

"Are you mad at me for yelling for you?" You muttered, head bumping against his leg, crossed under the other that his arm rested on.

"Maybe. I was trying to take a nap. Didn't work anyways. What are you doing up here?" You simply turned your head towards him, eyes flitting over his face for what seemed like the thousandth time.

No matter how many times you saw him, you could never seem to get over his profile.

"I was helping Sanji with the tangerines. He needed my help picking the fruit and watering the plants." You sighed, turning on your side.

He made a face, somewhere between disbelief and what looked like jealousy, but you couldn't tell. Not as the sun glared at you from behind him.

"He promised me food if i helped him," you protested at his look, rolling your eyes, "Don't look at me like that."

"How does that pertain to me? I never said anything." He shot back, failing to hide the flustered look at his eyes as he realized you'd caught him. "Zoroooo- you're making the face again," You giggled, rolling onto your stomach to stare at him.

He pretended to look confused, but you knew him like the back of your hand, thinly veiled distress underlying his features.

"Give it up Zo, you're jealous!" You teased, running a finger along the hemming of his pants. "Am not," he said plainly, averting your eyes.

"Am too-" You hummed.

"Am. not." He leaned down, baring his teeth slightly. His earrings jingled in the wind, gently swayed by the breeze.

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed his face, fingers grazed barely by the golden earrings.

There were freckles littered all over his face, barely noticeable unless you looked close enough.

You hadn't realized they were there until after the fight with Mihawk, when you stayed at his side, leaning over him hoping he would wake up. They were like little mini constellations, a galaxy you could kiss, although you had never said that to his face.

"Have i ever told you how pretty you look?" You left kiss after kiss on his cheeks, skin burning despite how stoic he looked on the outside. "You've got a grin like the devil yet the aura of an angel."

"Shouldn't i be saying that to you?" He huffed, pulling you closer. He obviously didn't want to let you go.

"You should. I want to hear it more from you," you said, expectant for the tiniest bit more you could milk from this, "tell me how much you love me."

Zoro's gruff exterior softened slightly as he looked into your eyes, whispering under bated breath, "You're as beautiful as always, Y/n."

"Well, in that case," you said playfully, "you're incredibly handsome, Zoro. My one and only."

A rare smile played on his face, and you looked around quickly, leaning in to give him a soft kiss. The breeze seemed to pick up, salty sea air filling your lungs.

As you broke the kiss, you let out a laugh, "I think we both needed that."

Zoro nodded in agreement. "Yeah, maybe I'm a bit jealous, but I can't stand the thought of you spending too much time with that damn cook."

You chuckled, running your fingers through his green hair. "Don't worry, Roronoa. You're the only one I want."

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you. "Good," he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. "Because you're the only one i need."

[a-aexotic]

✫𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆, i can see you.

✫ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | fighting, swearing, tristan being an asshole, breaking things (not too graphic promise LOL) ✫ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | hey yall, i'm back! i hope everyone enjoys! also i tagged everyone who seemed interested, i'm sorry for the VERY late update. i'm back, mwahhh. also planning a nate archibald series, who'd be interested? lmk! ✫ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | @colbybrocks @weepingwitchofthewest @shady-writtingtalk @zulpix-blog @wheelerslover @dogmom600 @damnhati @remussbitch @yourmumstoyboy2-blog @1-800-starkindustrie

The front door opened suddenly and she whipped her head to make eye contact with... Tristan Dugray? Oh, so that's where she's heard that name!

Y/N couldn't control as her mouth flew open. She also couldn't control the words that came out of her mouth as she saw him. "Oh, you've gotta be shitting me."

After Y/N had locked eyes with Tristan she whipped her head to face her father. "You're engaged to Tristan's mother?!"

Her father and Kristan looked surprised — they both exchanged glances before they looked back at her. "Yeah, I guess I am?"

His answer sounded more like a question rather than a straight up reply. He didn't know why she was now seemingly opposed to the idea of him being engaged to Kristan simply because of Tristan.

Y/N looked shocked, her jaw practically on the floor. "You're engaged to Tristan's mother." Instead of a question, it sounds more like a statement.

Before any of them could reply, Tristan spoke. "Oh, hello step-sister." You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. He was enjoying see your shocked expression. Tristan's smug remark only fueled your growing frustration and utter disbelief. You shot him a glare that could freeze lava before turning back to her father and Kristan, your mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions.

"So, this is what you meant by wanting me to spend time with my old 'friends'?" Your tone was laced with sarcasm as she addressed her father. "You conveniently forgot to mention that my 'old friend' is now my soon-to-be stepbrother?"

Her father shifted uncomfortably under her accusing gaze, realizing he had failed to properly prepare Y/N for this bombshell. "I... I thought it would be best to tell you in person."

Your frustration mounted with each passing second. "Well you thought wrong, Dad."

Kristan interjected, her voice gentle yet firm. "I understand this is a lot to take in, Y/N. But we're all going to be a family now, and I hope we can find a way to make this work."

Y/N fought the urge to roll her eyes at Kristan's attempt to diffuse the tension as she gave her a sarcastic smile. "Right, a family. How convenient."

Tristan leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed with a smirk still playing on his lips. "Well, this should be fun. Welcome to the family, stepsis."

Y/N resisted the urge to launch herself at him as she shot daggers with her eyes. "Don't call me that."

Kristan shot a glare at her son as she turned to you once again. "We didn't realize it would be such a shock to you,. We should have handled this better."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside me. You knew you couldn't blame her father entirely, but the whole thing still felt like a betrayal. "I just need some time to process all of this," Y/N muttered, her voice tinged with resignation. "Excuse me."

"I thought that went great." Tristan mumbled as his mother shook his head, your father pulling her in closer.

You turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving your father, Kristan, and Tristan as your retreated to her old bedroom, you couldn't shake the feeling that your carefully constructed world was crumbling around you, and you had no idea how to pick up the pieces.

You stepped out of the car, dramatically slamming the door as you took in the school: Chilton Prep School, where she would be going to school from now. She heard footsteps from behind her, she already knew who it was.

"Welcome home, Cromwell." Tristan's voice rang. You gritted her teeth at the sound of Tristan's voice behind you. You turned slowly, fixing him with a glare that could cut through steel.

"Save it, Dugray," you snapped, your tone dripping with disdain. "This is hardly my idea of home."

Tristan raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. "Well, get used to it. Looks like we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other from now on."

Tristan raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. "Feisty as ever, Cromwell. I'm just offering a friendly welcome to our new classmate, no need to get all... bitchy."

You narrowed your eyes at his remark, resisting the urge to roll them. "I'll take that as a compliment, Dugray. And I don't need your welcome. I know my way around just fine."

Tristan's smirk widened, clearly enjoying getting a rise out of you. "Oh, come on, Cromwell. Where's that famous New York charm? You're going to need it to survive in this stuffy place."

"I'll manage just fine without your help," you shot back, your voice dripping with determination. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than stand here and listen to your bullshit."

You turned away from Tristan, walking into Chilton. You already hated it, everyone looked so pretentious and elitist, just like Tristan. But you weren't going to let that intimidate you. You had faced down Manhattan's elite, and you could handle a bunch of snooty prep school kids. You had grown up with these kids, they couldn't be that hard.

As you made your way through the halls, you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. The students eyed you with curiosity, whispers following in your wake. But you held your head high, refusing to let them see any hint of insecurity.

Chilton was a far cry from the bustling streets of Manhattan, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were in for a rough ride. But you were Y/N Cromwell, and you didn't back down from a challenge.

With a flick of your hair and a confident stride, you made your way to your first class, ready to show Chilton Prep that Y/N Cromwell was a force to be reckoned with.

"Where are you two going?" You popped a grape in your mouth as you watched Kristan grab her purse from the chair as your father tightened his tie.

"I told you earlier, we have a date."

You raised an eyebrow at your father's response, a hint of skepticism in your voice. "A date? You two are acting like lovesick teenagers."

Kristan chuckled, smoothing down her blouse as she shot you a warm smile. "Well, your father does know how to sweep a lady off her feet."

You rolled your eyes as Kristan and your father shared glances. You all knew what that meant, you had to be left alone with Tristan. You had barely managed to tolerate his presence since arriving at your father's house, and the thought of spending an evening alone with him was enough to make you want to crawl out of your skin.

"Well, have fun on your date," you forced out, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

With a quick goodbye, your father and Kristan headed out the door, leaving you alone, turning around and seeing Tristan in the spacious living room. He caught your gaze and his lips curved up into a smile.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as Tristan's gaze met yours, his smirk sending a wave of irritation coursing through you. You knew exactly what he was thinking – that he had you right where he wanted you, trapped in his company for the evening.

Suppressing a sigh, you turned away from Tristan, refusing to let him see how much he was getting under your skin. Instead, you busied yourself with anything that would distract you from his presence – flipping through a magazine, checking your phone, anything to avoid acknowledging him.

But no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, Tristan was a persistent presence in the room. You could feel his eyes on you, his smug smirk burning into the back of your skull.

Finally unable to take it anymore, you turned to face him with a glare. "What do you want, Tristan?" you snapped, your patience wearing thin.

Tristan's smirk widened, his gaze flickering with amusement. "Just enjoying the view, Cromwell," he replied casually, as if your irritation was nothing more than entertainment to him.

You let out a bitter laugh as you shook your head. "Real classy, Tristan."

Tristan's smirk only widened at your remark, his amusement evident in every line of his face. "Oh, come on, Cromwell," he said, his tone teasing. "You can't tell me you're not used to being the center of attention. You were in New York for five years and you're telling me you didn't have the boys throwing themselves at you?"

You narrowed your eyes at Tristan, refusing to let his words rattle you. "I don't need validation from boys like you," you retorted, your voice dripping with annoyance. "Unlike some people, I have more important things to focus on than relationships."

Tristan's smirk faltered slightly at your cutting remark, but he quickly regained his composure. "Touché, Cromwell," he replied, his tone laced with amusement. "But don't act like you're immune to a little attention. I've seen the way you strut around like you own the place."

"And you don't? Please, I see the way every girl at Chilton looks at you. And I know you well enough to see how much that strokes your already, inflated ego." You paused, your voice laced with sarcasm as you leveled a pointed gaze at Tristan. "But hey, who am I to judge? If you want to bask in the adoration of your fan club, be my guest."

"Oh, I will, Y/N." Tristan let out a laugh as he watched you get all heated. He continued you watch you as you scoffed, turning your head back to the magazine.

You could feel his eyes on you, his amusement practically palpable. But you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. You weren't about to let him see how much he was getting to you. With a determined flick of your wrist, you closed the magazine and stood up from the sofa, shooting Tristan a glare.

"I have better things to do than sit here and listen to you," you declared, your voice laced with determination. With that, you turned on your heel and marched out of the room, leaving Tristan behind with his smug smirk and his insufferable ego.

You refused to let him drag you down to his level – you had bigger things to focus on than his petty games, like actually getting back to Manhattan where you belonged.

As you walked away, Tristan's amusement turned to frustration. He wasn't used to someone challenging him like this, especially not someone like you. With a determined stride, he followed after you, catching up just as you reached the hallway.

As you stormed out of the room, Tristan's smirk faded into a scowl. He watched you go, frustration bubbling up inside him. How dare she walk away from him like that? Without a second thought, Tristan followed after you, his footsteps echoing in the hallway as he caught up to you just as you reached the foyer.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Tristan called out, his voice sharp with annoyance.

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him with a glare. "Away from you," you replied sharply, crossing your arms over your chest. "I can't stand being around you for another second."

Tristan's jaw clenched, his own temper flaring. "Oh, please," he scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Like you're any better. You're nothing but a spoiled brat who thinks she's better than everyone else."

The words hit you like a slap in the face, igniting a firestorm of rage within you. "At least I'm not a narcissistic asshole who gets off on belittling others," you spat, your voice rising with each word. "You think you're so much better but you're not."

Tristan squared his shoulders, meeting your gaze head-on. "I want to know what your problem is," he replied, his tone angry. "You've been acting like you a complete bitch when I'm all trying to do is be your friend."

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "Oh, spare me the act, Tristan," you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "We both know that's not what you're after. You just want to play your little games and stroke your own ego."

Tristan's jaw clenched, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "And what about you, huh?" he retorted, his voice rising in anger. "You act like you're too good for everyone, like you're above it all. Well, let me tell you something, Y/N – you're not as special as you think you are."

"You know what, Tristan. I don't care about you or your stupid games because all I'm trying to do is get back to New York. All this shit is just a rock in the road," you spat as you turned around, walking away.

"Oh really? What about your obvious drinking problem, that's why your mom sent you away, right?"

You stopped in your track as you took in Tristan's words. Fury was etched across your features as you spun around to face him, your fists clenched at your sides. "How dare you," you seethed, your voice trembling with rage. "You stupid asshole!"

You pushed him as hard as you could, causing him to trip and fall into a table. You heard a loud shattering and both of you just stared at each other before looking down to see glass everywhere.

"Shit, that's my mom's vase." Tristan's eyes widened in shock as he glanced at the shattered remains of the vase on the floor.

Your chest heaved with anger as you glared at Tristan, your fists still clenched at your sides. "You deserved it," you spat, your voice thick with venom. "You had no right to say that."

"Y/N, this vase is like two grand. It was my mom's favorite vase," Tristan scoffed as he stared down at the ground. "She's gonna be fucking pissed, idiot."

You stared back at him with anger but you knew that you needed to figure something out. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you clenched your jaw and met Tristan's gaze head-on. "I know I messed up," you admitted begrudgingly, your voice tight with frustration. "You shouldn't have been a bitch."

"Well you shouldn't have pushed me, like an psycho." Tristan's voice was sharp, but there was a hint of surrender beneath his irritation. He knew that pointing fingers wouldn't solve anything, but he couldn't help but feel defensive in the face of your accusation.

"Well I'm not apologizing-"

"Y/N, we need to figure out what to do before they come home."

And right on cue, the front door opened, revealing your father and Kristan, who froze in shock at the sight of the shattered vase and the two of you standing next to it.

Your father's expression hardened as he took in the scene, his disappointment evident in his eyes. "What in the world happened here?" he demanded, his voice a mix of frustration and disbelief.

masterlist !

series masterlist !

[minkdelovely]

ptolemaea

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“i am no good nor evil, simply i am. and i have come to take what is mine.”

Nun!Alastor x Demon!Lucifer ; RadioApple ; MDNI 18+

tags/warnings: top!lucifer x bottom!alastor, alcohol consumption, accidental luci praise fic?, blasphemous debauchery, desecration of catholic imagery, smut (vague i know but if the previous tags haven’t scared you… 😂) also not a brag but i think i accidentally put my whole pussy into this idk what happened but here we are 🥂**didn’t implement tag list to avoid shocking y’all to death**

word count: 5.1k

author’s note: *natalie portman voice* i never said i was a role model. this companion piece (<- first part linked here) is dedicated to darling @hazelfoureyes who gave me courage to let my freak flag fly — please accept this as my humble offer of gratitude; it’s been an honor to workshop this idea with you 😭 totally get it if this crosses a line for some (please skip, i promise it’s okay lol) but i couldn’t be more excited to publish this. for anyone willing to join us on the yellow brick road to hell you are welcome to link arms 🙏🏻❤️‍🔥 theme inspo from ethel cain 🏚️ i also made a playlist for the party if you wanna check it out ✨

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Samhain was always a peculiar time for Lucifer.

Though he could come and go as he pleased between realms — with the exception of Heaven, of course — the thinning of the veil was the only time of year he could feel Earth from Hell. The energy of realms converging wallowed in the air heady as incense, enticing his powers to rest just under his skin. 

Or at least that’s how it felt. A not-unpleasant humming tension, aching to be released. It put him on edge, stirring him like a poker to hot coals as he fought to maintain his suave facade against the urge to succumb to the deeper power he normally held back with ease. It had never gone over well whenever Lucifer gave into the temptation… 

Except for the year he accidentally created a mound of rubber ducks. What a charming fascination that had turned out to be.

Normally he would make plans to visit with one of the other Sins or confine himself to his workshop to keep busy (use your imagination), but this year Charlie was hosting a party at the hotel. A costume party. He had no intention of dressing up (the fear that no one took him seriously enough as-is not completely unfounded), but he did find the practice endearing. Little mortals disguising themselves to hide from ghouls and demons. 

But he was Lucifer Morningstar, after all. Sinners and the like dressed up after him, not the other way around.

Exasperation pricked the king’s skin as Alastor suddenly came to mind, maintaining a perpetual state of unwelcome in Lucifer’s consciousness. He probably wouldn’t be dressing up either, the smug son-of-a-bitch. Every day is Halloween for that haunted sideshow, he thought bitterly with a laugh to himself, the sound echoing off the walls his only companion within the confines of the office — aside from the ever-present mass of ducks, of course.

The dilemma was still there when the laughter died though. Risk letting Charlie down by not dressing up and lumping himself in with Alastor by extension? Or don a costume and give the snarky demon and anyone else with a mocking eye the false impression of superiority? Lucifer groaned, running both hands through his bouffant platinum hair as he slumped forward at his desk. 

How had it come to this, needing to choose between love for his daughter or himself? Consumed by the current problem, he failed to recognize that this was an issue typically at hand, even when he lacked venom behind it. He was making good progress when it came to Charlie, but as they say, old habits die hard. There had to be a compromise somewhere…

A minute passed.

Head between his knees, his eyes shot open with the thrill of inspiration and he sprang from his chair, decision made. The familiar handsome smile graced his lips as he sauntered to his bedroom where an untouched suit awaited him in the armoire. He wasn’t the sin of Pride for nothing.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Intersecting somewhere between Halloween and New Year's Eve, the newly-added ballroom of the hotel was decorated to the gills, not a single inch of it lacking in festive flair. Angel Dust scoffed when a DJ had been suggested and happily provided a playlist for the party, which was either really smart or really crazy. Or both. Only time would tell, but so far there had been no complaints.

Sinners were piling in, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the establishment. The cacophony of conversation, laughter, and music filled the space with a liveliness Charlie hoped would be a more permanent fixture at the hotel. She and Vaggie had taken charge of greeting everyone at the entrance of the ballroom, receiving some surprisingly sincere compliments on their Glinda and Elphaba costumes. Any derogatory laughter or smirks were being pointedly ignored, both women knowing full well that they looked incredible.

When Charlie spotted her father approaching in the crowd, her smile faltered briefly. “Dad! I thought I told you this was a costume party,” she said tentatively, looking back to give Vaggie a silent plead to keep up with the greetings before focusing her full attention on Lucifer.

“Oh, honey, you look fantastic! Pink really suits you,” he deflected, eyes and voice sparkling as he held Charlie’s arms out to admire the glittering gown, looking every bit the princess she was.

She drew back, not unkindly, when he released her and wrapped her arms around her ribs self-consciously. Groaning, “Dad…” 

It was quite impressive how she could admonish him with a single word without even meaning to. Must've gotten it from her mother, he thought absently, though Lilith wouldn’t know passive aggression if it slapped her on the ass. 

Thinking on his estranged wife, it was a true miracle how Charlie had blossomed into the compassionate and brave young woman standing before him. Lilith, never afraid to lead the charge; himself, too trepidatious to take the risk. Yet somehow their daughter seemed to embody the best of them both, reflecting parts of himself that he didn’t know where there.

He could have wept on the spot, suddenly fit to burst with affection for her — no doubt another side effect of the day — but the angel quickly refocused when he saw Charlie’s nervous expression toward him and leapt into damage control.

“Whaddya mean, I am dressed up!” he managed to answer with his usual charm. With one hand he pointed at his extended horns, a flicker of flame glowing between them adorned with his delicate serpent crown. The other hand swooped in front of his red suit with a flourish. “You’re telling me this doesn’t pass as a credible devil costume? You know, I actually held back. Thought maybe it’d be too scary for your guests if I went all out.”

If keeping his flame low and eyes neutral counted as holding back, and not just the ones in his skull. People got squeamish around him whenever the amass of eyes on his crown and wings appeared. He didn’t blame them.

Lucifer was rambling now, a nervous laugh the cherry on top of his need to save face. Though somewhat of a loophole, he had found the idea to be rather clever. Then again, he was trapped in an echo chamber of his own thoughts so most ideas naturally fell into that category. Was it really such a letdown? He could’ve bailed altogether, nerves already desperate for solitude, but he wanted to try for her. Even if it felt like two steps forward and one step back when it came to Charlie, he’d keep aiming to get it right for as long as she’d allow. 

“I actually think you look great,” Vaggie said smoothly, swooping in next to Charlie at the first break in the crowd. Lucifer would owe her for the rest of existence for the save. A debt he was more than happy to repay in whichever way pleased her best, making a mental note to discuss it later with the fellow angel. “It’s a lot better than what Alastor decided to show up in, anyhow.” The grimace on her face and in her tone was unmistakable. 

Alastor had fucked up.

It took all of Lucifer’s willpower to keep his magic in check at the delight that shot through him. The PR mess regarding what would equate to mass murder, regrettably, didn’t ping his radar. But the thought of needing to rebuild the ballroom was just taxing enough to keep the impulse at bay.

He was about to ask what Vaggie meant when Charlie stepped in, playing devil’s advocate as usual (no pun intended). What his precious, well-meaning daughter saw in that undeserving creep, he’d never understand.

“He’s just getting into the spirit! You have to admit, it’s nice to see him mingling for once, he’s usually so—”

“Grotesque?” Lucifer offered.

“Conniving?” Vaggie added.

“Reclusive!” Charlie practically screamed, earning looks from a few demons within earshot. “Look, I won’t say that what he picked out isn’t… surprising, but I’m just really happy to see him join in on the fun. He’s been enjoying himself so far, so I want you guys on best behavior, all right?” 

She said you guys but made solid eye contact with her father. Despite wanting to protest, Lucifer understood he was already off to a shaky start and conceded with a sigh, covered quickly with a debonair grin. Charlie didn’t know what a particularly big ask it was to be on best behavior tonight, but that was his burden to bear.

“Of course, sweetie, you have nothing to worry about! There are so many sinners here I doubt we’ll even run into each other.”

Famous last words.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Lucifer tried to enjoy himself, he really did. 

In the brief moments before his eyes found Alastor in the crowd, it had actually been a wonderful time. He was immediately awash in the admiration of his subjects, even managing to make some poor creature faint with a simple grin in their direction — though he had really laid on the charm with that one. Could he be blamed though? After ten millennia of habit, calling it compulsive would be an understatement. 

Moments like this were a reminder of why it was good to get out of his office every now and then. Whether it was compliments on his look, praise for the fight with Adam, or outright solicitation for sex, Lucifer drank it all in; beaming as the crowd awed at the sight of fully extended wings he could no longer keep to himself. He really was the shit, wasn’t he? Being worshipped is truly unlike anything else, but it’s something to experience, not explain. All he knew was that he adored it. 

It had been a devastatingly short-lived escape, the proverbial looming gray cloud — never too far away — returning as Lucifer’s gaze fell on Alastor. He had been scanning for the bar and stumbled on an atrocity instead. Just his luck. 

The costume was a shocking choice to be sure, one that Lucifer might have even appreciated had it been on literally anyone else. But something about it on Alastor was simply… perverse. Leaving him with the struggle of trying to decide if it was the costume that was the issue or its inhabitant.

Was it the way the habit — embellished with red stitches on each side and the Cross of Saint Peter in the center — framed Alastor’s face, ears and horns still exposed with just a tuft of bang peaking out across his forehead? The pure white wimple that glowed like a beacon against the stark black surrounding it, casting an unusual grace upon the slender neck and broad shoulders underneath? Or how the tunic flattered the swell of his chest, the taper of his thin waist accentuated by the fabric swirling about his hips that flowed down over long, lean legs?

The demon, draped languidly over the bar, was chatting with Husker; the look on their faces was the most relaxed and natural Lucifer had ever seen exchanged between the pair, borderline flirtatious. Whatever the bartender said made Alastor toss his head back with a laugh, the exuberant sound of it piercing the angel’s chest like an arrow. How he had even managed to hear it so clearly over the music and the crowd was a miracle, or perhaps curse was more accurate. Still, the easygoing look on Alastor’s face as he came down from the laugh was bewitching, accented by a boozy flush and mischievous, heavy red eyes.

Insufferable.

The Radio Demon was in top form tonight, confidence radiating from him with such a forceful ease that the king could feel it even from his place across the room. He hadn’t noticed the literal sparks flying out of the pads of his fingers until he brought his hands up to tug at the collar of his shirt, which suddenly felt too tight. Fuck.

Taking it all in, Lucifer could feel the heat rising reluctantly in his face as he was consumed by a baffling mixture of lust and loathing.

All because Alastor decided to be a blasphemous piece of shit, he seethed, scowling as he narrowed his eyes at the sinner in question. Eerie, arrogant, pompous, constant pain-in-the-ass Alastor, riling him up like this? Lucifer had considered it number one on his list of impossibilities, caught completely off-guard by the rush of desire — if he had to put a word on it — for the ghoulish prick. An impulse he had never entertained nor wanted to feel in regard to the demon, but was there all the same.

“Samhain,” Lucifer cursed under his breath. The flame between his horns intensified, eyes prickling with the threat to change color. He took a breath, remembering Charlie. 

Best behavior. 

It was about as helpful as a bandaid over a bullet wound. This had to be a joke; a cruel, tasteless joke meant to provoke him specifically. Like he hadn’t suffered enough of those already in his long, long existence.

That was the only conclusion the angel could come to from his table near the bar, practically burning alive in his chair as he watched Alastor strutting around the ballroom in between breaks from the dance floor. Lucifer really had almost set himself on fire after catching Alastor in the middle of a sultry dance move with one of the guests, a rolling of hips he didn’t think Alastor was even capable of doing, let alone inflict upon someone. It took a double shot to mellow out when he found himself wondering what it would be like to switch places with that guest, though it did little to quell the growing ache coiling low in his abdomen.

There was a lull in the music and the crowd disbursed, quickly filling the empty space around the angel. Lucifer exhaled, somewhere between a groan and a laugh. Alastor had finally managed to dip out of his line of sight — not that the demon was forcing Lucifer to look — and the reprieve couldn’t have come at a better time; the solace of his absence coming over the angel like poultice to a throbbing wound. Despite being a couple drinks in now, the tension in his body was a ticking bomb. He needed the opportunity to try and decompress before he accidentally wrought havoc upon the denizens invited here by his daughter.

For at least the tenth time he entertained the idea of going back up to his room, if only to release some of the punishing energy pulsating through him, but he wasn’t confident that he’d return. The only thing holding him back was the promise he made to Charlie to be present and well behaved. And so, he remained committed to the confinement of the table he’d been bonded to for the last hour.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

In hoping to keep as much distance as possible Lucifer had unwittingly tipped Alastor off, landing the problem he was hoping to evade right in his lap. So to speak.

He always forgot that the demon could travel through shadow until it was too late. It’s just that he didn’t care to remember, not wanting to give Alastor even the tiniest bit of permanent space in his mind. Something he was actually too oblivious to realize he was already doing; they both were.

Alastor had of course noticed when Lucifer entered the room. Whether he wanted to was another thing entirely. Though it was to be expected, what with the dregs of Hell no doubt encountering royalty for the first time. Thankfully he had been at the bar with Husker, his captive bartender providing a welcome distraction with a joke about how his drink was going to cost a few Hail Marys. There were reasons Alastor kept him around, after all, beyond the obvious. Surly as he was, Husk had the capacity to be quite funny when the mood struck. He wasn’t on the clock tonight, but he was the only one Alastor trusted to pour his drinks. 

He could feel the glare beating down on him from that moment on, focused on him wherever he went. So he laid it on, making rounds and fluffing up the guests who were all too eager to devour his attention. It had been especially fun seeing the quick shock of flame in the corner after he showed off a risqué dance move, all for his majesty’s entertainment of course. If the spotlight was going to be forced on him, why not perform? But after an hour the joke was growing stale, and so the demon came to the conclusion that he’d have to be the one to bridge the gap.

Lucifer jumped at the shock of Alastor’s melodic voice coming from behind him, transmuting the glass in his hand into a duck without meaning to with a pop; amber-colored liquor swirling around within the confines of its new shape. Lucifer couldn’t decide what pissed him off more, the jump scare or the magic trick. The not-so-secret third option being Alastor’s proximity to himself, the heat from their bodies mingling in the small space between them.  

“Fuck! You know, you’ve got a lot of nerve sneaking up on me like that. I’m liable to make it a killing offense,” Lucifer sneered, tossing a napkin over his new little creation before anyone else could notice it. “And I haven’t been admiring you. I’m just, uh, keeping an eye on things! Besides, a king shouldn’t mingle with the general population. Might give off the wrong impression.” 

Sealed with crossed arms and a smug, toothy grin, it would’ve made for a decent enough comeback had it not been for the slip up. 

A dear old friend to Alastor, the slip up.

The expression on his face sharpened with a malicious instinctual ease as an idea unfurled in his mind. Lucifer was so obviously perturbed by him, the attempt he made at concealing it was almost endearing in a pathetic way. Though he was always in a pathetic way to Alastor, dark gums revealed in his ominous smile as his scheme took shape. He leaned in low, lips nearly grazing the angel’s skin as he spoke; his ear twitched at the catch of Lucifer’s breath from the action. He was so fucking obvious.

How humiliating.

“Is that so? Well, if you’re merely killing time here, might I suggest a bit of… sport?”

Lucifer flinched, pulling his face away to glare up at him. He couldn’t be insinuating what the angel thought he was, could he? It would be a bold — deadly — move even under normal circumstances. And tonight was anything but normal. 

Something was clearly in the air for Alastor too, if the fraternizing Lucifer had witnessed for the past hour was any indication (not realizing he had been the cause). He was known to have a flirtatiousness about him when he drank, but there was a different edge to it this evening. Lucifer was beginning to wonder if the costume was fueling his narcissism. Obscene.

“Well, your majesty?” Alastor goaded, radio filter frazzling as he leered down. To Lucifer’s chagrin, bedroom eyes looked good on him, the rotten bitch. “If not, I’m more than happy to leave you to your sulking.”

That was a lie and they both knew it, the tension so charged between them the air might combust at any second. Given the king’s proneness to accidents tonight (and the literal open flame above his head) it wasn’t an impossibility. 

As they locked eyes, some silent declaration was sent, though neither had received the same message. Or perhaps they did and therein was the problem, dooming them to be forever caught in this stubborn battle of wills. 

Lucifer tried — and failed — to ignore the portion of himself that, apparently, had been eager for the opportunity. He could give in… if only to set some boundaries on who was always the winner in this pissing contest. The smoky trace of whiskey lingering on Alastor’s breath caused Lucifer’s nails to dig into the flesh of his palm, golden pinpricks of blood rising in the wake. 

A proposition now effectively ratified. 

The Body and the Blood…

How sentimental.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Haaahh…! Mmmnn — ahh!”

“Fuck…”

It started off as a joke like so many things do when you’re scared shitless of vulnerability.

An insult here, a dare to chase it. Contemptuous eyes poorly concealing the desire simmering underneath. An angry meeting of mouths, all tongue and teeth and claws. The clattering of miscellaneous items being recklessly swiped off a table.

Glass shattering. 

More insults.

A bite to the lip drawing blood, tangled breath filling in the needy gaps awaiting any touch they could get. The first shared moan ringing in ears before scorching its way down, stoking the molten ache roiling in the gut, desperate to envelop them both and leave nothing but frayed nerves behind. 

Caressing, pulling, gripping, grinding, biting…

The party supply room was hot, air humid with sweaty musk and the steam of heaving breaths, the sounds of the party resonating on the other side of the wall. Inside were hisses through clenched teeth, groans of ecstasy; slick skin coming together then pulling away with the magnitude of storm-heavy waves crashing and receding on the shore.

The tunic covering Alastor’s torso did little to comfort him, stripped as he felt. In fact, the habit was still on too, the only piece of clothing torn from him being the wimple in order to free the expanse of his neck. Lucifer had spent quite a bit of time there, marking it well with harsh love bites and languid strokes of his forked tongue.

He was laid out beneath the angel, open mouthed and florid, vaguely coherent as his king fucked him senseless; seemingly determined to conquer the demon as wholly as possible. A task at which he was succeeding, if he hadn’t done so already; though to be fair he had never stood a chance against Lucifer. Not tonight.

Alastor hadn’t spoken a proper word in minutes, reduced to communicating through moans, groans, and sharp intakes of breath. Quite the accomplishment considering he was such an articulate fellow. 

Lucifer didn’t know it yet, but he would be haunted by the memory of seeing Alastor’s eyes roll to the back of his head once he found the pace he was currently keeping; deep and steady, just fast enough to stay ahead of the desperation that was never too far behind.

So tight…

The demon almost looked sweet, splayed out below him like this, lost in the throes of pleasure. It was a nice change considering the sneer that normally painted his face. But seeing him like this, brows knit and face flushed, the tuft of bang soaked into his forehead…

In this moment, Lucifer truly felt like a God.

He certainly looked like he could be, his demon form fully unleashed. He always felt such relief in this state. It was exhausting holding himself back, and not just today. Something he did all the time, not out of concern or ease for others, but because he had difficulty grappling with his station. Not that he’d give it up — hell no. But the burden of leadership was exactly that. Lilith had known it too, all too happy to take the reins until she wasn’t. He’d been happy to let her… until he wasn’t.

Maybe it was the melding properties of Samhain surging through him, but he could swear he felt a shifting. What good did it do for him to hide himself away? There was actually plenty of proof to the contrary. Why should he hold himself back? He was Lucifer Morningstar. Hell was his domain, and all its inhabitants needed a reminder that he was to be revered.

The Radio Demon could be their martyr.

Why else had he offered himself up like one? And the image suited him well.

“I showed the Nazareth all the kingdoms of the world before they crucified him. What do you see, Alastor?” Lucifer growled, voice thick and smug with authority. He leaned down to nip and lick at the skin of Alastor’s open jaw, still whipping his hips at a relentless pace. 

Even with eyes closed — too much effort, they were so heavy to keep open — Alastor could see him perfectly, the image of Lucifer seared into his mind. Eyes. Glowing red eyes to match the flame roaring between his fully formed horns and the apple that topped his serpent crown like a sparkling ruby. Leering, all-seeing eyes on seraphim’s wings. 

A fanged grin so self-satisfied it was like looking directly into the sun. 

A God.

It burned him to admit it.

But the wanton moan that tore through Alastor’s chest pierced the room, coming on so quickly he never stood a chance at restraining it. The words spilling from Lucifer’s mouth in deep rumbles threatened to unravel the meager hold Alastor had left on his dignity. Absent claws bit into the flesh of the demon’s thighs as the angel momentarily hitched from the way Alastor clenched around him, hot and greedy as if needing to milk him for all he was worth.

The king let out a husky laugh in response, latching onto a particularly enticing patch of Alastor’s neck where it met the shoulder; reveling again in the salty musk that coated his tongue before biting down, filling his mouth with the satisfying taste of iron.

Alastor opened his mouth in a soundless plead, his mouth and throat dry from exertion. Impossible as it seemed, tears pricked at the corner of his eyes; his painfully hard and untouched dick throbbed, weeping against his stomach and into the fabric of the tunic. It was too much… He was too full, too surrounded, too helpless.

Consuming. 

Yes, that’s what it felt like. 

He had never been on the opposite side of it before. 

And despite it all, he could feel his orgasm pooling low in his belly, balls painfully full and tight. That gnawing tension yearning for relief as Lucifer’s thick arousal punished his spongy core. Once the angel pulled away from his neck, Alastor couldn’t help but reach down to touch himself, so in need of climax he didn’t care what it took to get it.

Lucifer roared at the sight, cock twitching as his own release threatened to spill, but managed to hold it back. Delicious as this was to witness, he couldn’t let Alastor get to the finish line just yet; his pointed tail coming around to snatch the demon’s hand away as he pulled out, exhaling with a strained grunt.

The sudden absence of both sensations left Alastor to writhe in frustrated ache, practically sobbing through gritted teeth at the loss, which Lucifer mercifully tried to soothe with languid kisses and nips to the demon’s inner thigh. He wasn’t a completely unfeeling Lord, after all.

He just needed one last thing before letting them both attain the high they so desperately wanted, his eyes shifting back from radiant flame to red and yellow with a blink as he wrapped his hand around Alastor’s angry, dripping length. It wouldn’t be long now, the poor creature was so hard and wet to the touch.

Alastor cried out, regaining some semblance of himself as he unconsciously bucked into Lucifer’s unmoving hand; his mouth made a sticky sound as he swallowed hard, moisture finally returning to his parched throat. 

“Luci…fer… please — I can’t…!” Alastor practically tore the words out between heaving breaths, tears burning his skin as the shame of needing to beg deepened his rosy blush to an intense red. 

He hadn’t expected the demon to beat him to the punch, unable to fight the grin of victory painting his lips as his eyes resumed their fearsome glow. Benevolently rewarding Alastor with a few firm strokes, he relished the lewd, wet sound of it joining the chorus of his subject’s carnal whimpers. Lucifer bent down and flattened his tongue, giving a slow wide lick to Alastor’s leaking cock from base to head, finishing with an obscene slurp. How could he possibly have denied himself such a precious offering? 

A pleased hum rumbled in Lucifer’s chest when Alastor slung an arm over his face, gossamer strings of spit between his lips as he shuddered, “Oh god… fuck…”

That would work. 

Lucifer buried himself back into Alastor’s enticing heat, continuing his ministrations as his hips set a slow pace. A mewling groan spilled from the demon’s mouth, hips rolling to meet each of the angel’s thrusts. Lucifer’s peak was quickly approaching, too lost in the divine feeling of Alastor’s body surrounding him, already lamenting the thought of being finished.

“You poor thing… Did I fuck all the attitude out of you?” the angel taunted, golden blood dripping down the side of his mouth from the force of his smile.

No longer capable of holding it back, the orgasm crashed through Alastor with the force of an avalanche, heart threatening to burst through his chest; the sound of its rapid pounding nearly drowning out his own scream of rapture. He spasmed so tightly that the king had to still himself, the grip on him almost painful. Hot, thick cum shot onto the demon’s stomach and Lucifer’s hand in gratifying spurts as he stroked him through his high, desperate for every drop he could wring out.

Inspired by the mess in front of him, the angel pulled out and brought one of Alastor’s hands to him, guiding him until he felt life twitch back into the demon’s fingers. The grasp was a little too harsh, Alastor perhaps using this as a chance for revenge if the look in his eye was any indication, but it didn’t matter. Nothing could take this conquest from him. It wasn’t long before Lucifer was rutting into the demon’s hand, groaning through clenched teeth as his face twisted up before spilling himself into Alastor’s palm.

Lucifer gave himself a moment to revel in the bliss of their debauchery before cleaning them up with a snap of his fingers. He was too worn out to put more effort into it than that, and hey, got the job done, didn’t it?

They were still trying to catch their breath when they finally locked eyes, the post-coital sobriety already at work. Alastor’s ears flattened as he glared at the angel, a rare grimace on his lips.

“No one knows about this. Understood?” he threatened, the static crackling in the air around him.

“Ha! Who do you think you’re talking to? Now I know I fucked you stupid.”

Their fistfight didn’t last long, but provided a great cover for their absence when they stumbled back to the bar in desperate need of a strong drink.

So much for best behavior…

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“How did you do it by the way, the last temptation of Christ?” Alastor couldn’t believe he was asking, the bitterness clear in his voice, but he figured it might be his only chance to find out without seeming too curious.

It took Lucifer a second to process the question, an easy smile spreading across his face. “Oh what, showing Jesus the world? I just whipped out a map*.”

Insufferable.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

ps: don’t worry, alastor was prepped before getting railed lol it just happened off screen 🫠

*biblically accurate if you can believe

[misc-obeyme]

Worth It: Part Two

I cannot believe the response part one of this lil macaron fic got. You guys inspired me to write the smutty part two, so here it is. I am not thinking about parts three and four already. Absolutely not, that is not a thing that you just read. Honestly though I could keep going but will I? That's the real question. I do love them, so it's a maybe at the moment lol. Once again tagging @lonely-north-star as requested and also @silverrings-n-prettythings because I saw your tags on the last part lol.

Mammon x Barbatos - read part one here!

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: It's all smut!!! Okay okay but seriously, oral and biting and making out and a lil bit of hair pulling... who's giving to who? I'm not telling, you'll just have to read it to find out mwahaha.

The minute the door to Barbatos’s bedroom closed, Mammon found himself pressed up against the wall. He gasped as he felt warm lips on his neck. The bedroom was dim and Mammon couldn’t see much of anything but odd shapes. It didn’t matter. He was focused entirely on the hands that were gripping his waist.

“What task did you abandon to come here?” Barbatos asked against his skin. His voice was low and heavy, rumbling through Mammon’s veins.

Mammon pulled in a breath. “Devildom Law,” he managed to say.

Barbatos chuckled. “I see,” he said. “Too dull?”

Mammon let his head fall against the wall behind him. “Why do they gotta make us write reports?”

Barbatos hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you simply need better motivation.”

Mammon was about to protest, but he gasped instead when Barbatos bit down on his neck. His already flushed face seemed to get hotter, if that was at all possible. More importantly, he was hard as a rock and he was both excited and nervous for Barbatos to notice.

Barbatos pressed his leg between Mammon’s thighs. Mammon grabbed his arms, fingernails digging into the exposed skin, as he tried to bite back a moan.

Barbatos paused in his movements, suddenly going quite still.

Mammon tried to gulp down air for a moment, feeling like he was going to overheat.

“You should return home and finish your report,” Barbatos said, his voice mild.

Mammon whined for a moment before swallowing the sound down. “Ya wouldn’t really do that to me, would ya?”

Barbatos traced Mammon’s jaw with his fingers. “Hmm. We both know what will happen if you fail Devildom Law again.”

Mammon shuddered involuntarily. Lucifer had been especially angry with him about it last time and made quite a few threats.

“I ain’t gonna fail again,” Mammon said.

Barbatos met his eyes and Mammon saw a soft, indulgent expression there. “You must promise me.”

Mammon flushed. Barbatos still had his leg softly pressing between Mammon’s thighs and the pressure was making him crazy. He would promise anything in that moment. “I promise,” he said.

“So quick to agree,” Barbatos said, amusement laced in his voice. “Do you wish for no reward in return?”

Mammon frowned at him. “What kinda reward?”

“If you like, you can consider this a preview,” Barbatos said, pressing up just a little.

Mammon gasped. He’d had enough teasing. He couldn’t take it anymore and he suddenly didn’t care if Barbatos knew how needy he was.

Mammon tightened his grip on Barbatos’s arms and turned with him so that their positions were reversed. Now Barbatos was pressed against the wall, though his expression remained one of amusement.

Mammon slid his hands down to Barbatos’s hips and pressed himself against Barbatos’s body, meeting his lips in a deep kiss that left no question of how he was feeling.

Barbatos responded easily, opening his mouth and meeting Mammon’s tongue with just as much intensity. He pulled Mammon closer by the nape of his neck before allowing his hand to push up into Mammon’s hair. He gripped and pulled Mammon’s head back, breaking the kiss just so he could run his tongue up Mammon’s throat.

Mammon sucked in large breaths, panting. “You’re makin’ me crazy,” he managed to say. “You’re doin’ it on purpose, too, ain’t ya?”

Barbatos pushed gently on Mammon’s chest, making him walk backwards for a bit. In the darkness of the room, Mammon had no idea where he was going, so he could only trust Barbatos to direct him.

When the bed hit the back of Mammon’s knees, he let himself fall onto it easily. Barbatos was on top of him in an instant, lips by Mammon’s ear.

“You have been making me crazy for too long already,” Barbatos said, his hand running up Mammon’s thigh. “Don’t you think it’s only fair that I return the favor?”

Mammon groaned as Barbatos’s fingers ghosted over his still clothed but painfully erect cock. “Whaddaya want me to do? Beg?”

Barbatos chuckled. “While I wouldn’t say it’s required, I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

Mammon gripped Barbatos’s biceps hard. “Barbatos,” he said, his voice gone high into a whine. “Please.”

He was thrilled to see the way a blush bloomed on Barbatos’s cheeks. Finally, he had flustered this stoic demon a little bit.

But Barbatos didn’t say anything. He ran one hand down Mammon’s chest and pulled open Mammon’s belt with the other hand.

Mammon squirmed beneath him in anticipation, nerves and impatience both bubbling up in him.

Barbatos freed Mammon’s cock from his clothes and Mammon bit his lip in an attempt to stay quiet as Barbatos touched him.

Barbatos glanced up at him. “You needn’t hold back,” he said. “No one will hear you.”

Mammon met his eyes. His senses were dulled from need and his guard was down. Quietly, he said, “You will.”

Barbatos tilted his head at this. “Is that a problem?”

Mammon covered his face with his hands. “It’s embarrassin’!”

Barbatos laughed softly. “I disagree. To be clear, I would love nothing more than to listen to you moan.”

Mammon was about to protest, but he found himself unable to speak as Barbatos put the tip of his cock in his mouth.

Mammon's hands flew into Barbatos’s hair, gripping and releasing as he tried not to pull too hard on it. But he was so overwhelmed by sensation as Barbatos proved to be an absolute master with his tongue that Mammon was finding it increasingly difficult to pay attention to what his hands were doing.

All concerns he had about being embarrassed flew out the window when Barbatos took the full length of his cock into his mouth.

Mammon arched his back and moaned. He had to cover his face with his arm because it was too much. He was sure Barbatos was too busy to notice anyway.

Mammon knew the second Barbatos lifted his mouth away that he had miscalculated. He should have known that Barbatos noticed everything.

And indeed, he felt a hand grip his arm and pull it down gently from his face.

Barbatos was looking down at him with a soft smile. “Please don’t cover your face,” he said.

Mammon couldn’t reply, only blushing more and wishing he could go back to covering his face.

Barbatos pulled on his arm again, making him sit up on the edge of the bed.

To Mammon’s great astonishment, Barbatos knelt between his knees and looked up at him. Barbatos reached up to cup Mammon’s cheek.

“I like to see you,” Barbatos said simply.

And then Mammon’s cock was back in his mouth and Mammon had to hold onto Barbatos’s shoulders for dear life. He moaned again and leaned forward, his hands spasming and twisting Barbatos’s shirt.

Barbatos looked up at Mammon’s red face through his bangs and when Mammon met his eyes, he almost came on the spot. He was overwhelmed by seeing his own desire reflected there.

The pleasure built as Barbatos concentrated on his task, his mouth tight and hot and wet, his tongue pulling the sensations from Mammon. He tried not to buck up his hips in response, but it was difficult.

Barbatos didn’t seem to mind and he never broke his pace, no matter how much Mammon moved and squirmed and moaned.

Mammon twisted his fingers harder into Barbatos’s shirt as he felt himself reaching the edge. He suddenly couldn’t stay quiet even if he wanted to.

“Ah,” he panted out. “B-Barbatos-! Ahh, I’m- it’s- I can’t-!”

Barbatos did not stop, did not slacken his pace, only continued on until Mammon was babbling incoherently. He couldn’t form words anymore, only letting out a cry as he came, his hips lifting involuntarily.

Mammon bent over Barbatos’s head, panting, his hands moving from Barbatos’s shoulders to his face.

Barbatos looked up at him and Mammon pulled him up just enough to kiss him. He could taste the salt of his own cum on Barbatos’s tongue. He bit down on Barbatos’s bottom lip, needing to taste more of himself.

Barbatos indulged him for a moment until he pulled away, leaving Mammon feeling empty and almost cold.

Mammon let out a low whine.

Barbatos chuckled. “You are quite needy, aren’t you?”

Mammon blushed and frowned. “L-like ya didn’t know that already…”

“Indeed, I have always been aware of your personality,” Barbatos said. He reached up and ran his knuckles down Mammon’s cheek. “You are greedy, as am I.”

Mammon stared at him in surprise for a moment.

But then Barbatos got to his feet and pulled Mammon up to his. Mammon nearly tripped as his pants were still halfway down, but Barbatos kept him upright. He yanked Mammon’s pants back up, even buckling Mammon’s belt for him.

“What-?” Mammon said.

“You must return to the House of Lamentation now,” Barbatos said. “I do believe you left a report unfinished.”

Mammon grabbed Barbatos’s hands. “But what about you?”

Barbatos smiled at him. “We will have plenty of time to continue when your report is done. Is that not enough motivation to complete it quickly?”

Mammon glared at him. “You’re messin’ with me, aren’t ya?”

Barbatos pretended to look offended. “I am merely looking out for you, Mammon. After all, if Lucifer follows through on his threats, I fear you would have to spend quite a bit of time recovering. You would be unavailable for… other activities.”

Mammon huffed. He stepped closer to Barbatos, leaning in to nibble at his ear for a moment before saying in a low voice, “I know ya think it’s fun to tease me like this, but ya better be prepared for what I’m gonna do when I’m done with that report.”

To Mammon’s immense satisfaction, Barbatos shivered ever so slightly. He straightened Mammon’s jacket. “Please finish your work quickly.”

Mammon practically ran home. Every single one of his brothers was confused about the way he locked himself in his room to work on his Devildom Law report. They speculated among themselves if maybe he was sick. Only Lucifer seemed unconcerned.

worth it part one | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[omeumi]

sum: gn! reader skipped dinner, alhaitham shenanigans ensue.

a/n: i had testing today and its my mother's birthday lol. im posting from a salon lobby..

content: discussions of eating and skipping meals ( ! non ed related.) usage of askım, turkish equivalent of my love, because i hate ""y/n."" ♡

> it's not your fault you didn't have dinner before bed. or, it is, but that's neither here nor there. Alhaitham had gotten home late, and it slipped your mind between the pages of a book and the sun dipping below the horizon.

> after passing out on the sofa in a failed attempt to wait up for him, Alhaitham had found you that way—sleeping soundly, sunken into the divan cushions, lamp still on. his expression softens, watching you there. at peace, the both of you. so he carries you to bed, holding you kindly in his arms, and tucking you away before he prepares for bed himself.

> and now, a couple hours later, it's him who sleeps soundly instead, as he deserves to. out like a mossed log. but you're now wide awake, turning over in bed, simply starved.

> Alhaitham is quite possibly the heaviest sleeper known to man and Archon, but that doesn't stop you from being careful. stirring the sheets minimally, tiptoeing away from your love who is completely still. you linger in the doorway, eyeing him in his peaceful, effortless beauty, before wandering off to the kitchen.

> flipping a lamp on, you grab a peach from the fruit bowl. quick and easy enough. with a knife, you cut around the pit and separate it into halves. its scent floods the room, swirling like a morning fog. you take a bite from your peach, and it parts easily—soft and pleasant and sweet.

> "aşkım?" you jump at the sound of Alhaitham's voice, thick with soothing sleep. as if akin to a cat, you cannot ever hear his light, lithe footsteps. you turn. his eyes are soft, hair tousled.

"you scared me—"

> "I noticed." in the fuzzy light, you watch him approach, ever silently. "what are you doing up now?" behind you, he wraps his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder.

> "I didn't have dinner," you confess, and feel him eye you more intently, pressing for information. Alhaitham frowns.

"why not?"

> you shrug, before biting into a half of peach. "I was distracted.."

"by what?"

> you set the bitten half back on the plate, gaze focused there. the white ceramic, the risen patterns around its edges. the golden drops of juice in the center. you don't want him to feel bad. guilty. these things happen—time ticking by when you're both swallowed by work and responsibility.

> "you were waiting for me," he says. realizes. you nod before he sighs unmistakably, soft against the skin of your neck. it is not annoyance, not frustration, not disappointment. not disappointment in you, anyway. maybe in himself. he gives you a lingering, regretful kiss on your cheek. "i am sorry.." the syllables reside on his lips, drawing on long. it's simple, but you've never seen Alhaitham so close to not being able to find his words.

> "i was," you say, looking up at him. his sleepy, resting face—eyebrows furrowed ever-so in that adorable concern for you. "but you're here now. we're together. i'm eating." you lean in and capture his parted lips in a kiss, clumsy and tasting of peach. you pull back and he blinks, a smile curving slightly.

> "can i have a bite?"

©2023 arborio  do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[thelov3lybookworm]

Remember me? (Part 11)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: honestly dedicated to @thehighladywrites because we love High Lord Eris in this house 😏😌🫶🏻

also, i feel like this timeline ca be confusing because i honestly dont know what im doing lol so just so you all are aware, this part is supposed to be based on the time just before feyre has fled the night court 😉

(Not edited as i am going to slee, sorry! ignore any mistakes ❣️)

•○🌑○•

The curtains were parted to let in a gentle autumn breeze which toyed with the ends of Y/n's hair, and she huffed gently when she felt someone watching her.

She finished adjusting the covers around the sleeping Fin, taking her time to smooth out the creases before she straightened, turning to find Eris leaning against the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes trained on the softly snoring boy on the bed.

And he was shirtless.

Y/n told herself it was not that big of a deal, that she had seen plenty of men naked, but seeing that pale expanse of skin covering those hard earned muscles, something shifted in her belly.

He glanced at her, blinking when she stepped forward. He straightened when Y/n continued walking forward, and his arms fell at his sides when she passed by him.

Her brows furrowed as she glanced at him and found a blush covering his face.

"Eris? Are you alright? Is your magic malfunctioning or something?"

He shook his head, still standing in the doorway. She paused to turn an watch him.

"You look a little red, you know. Are you sure you don't have a fever?"

He shook his head again, glancing back at Fin once before he inclined his head towards the corridor leading away from the boy's room.

To say Y/n was concerned and confused would be an understatement.

Eris closed the door to Fin's room gently, then grasped Y/n's hand, hesitantly, tugging her towards a large window nearby.

Y/n whirled towards him the moment he stopped walking. "Eris? What is going on?"

He didn't say anything, simply pulled out a piece of paper from the pocket of the pants that hung dangerously low on his hips.

Y/n's frustrations finally got the best of her. "Are we playing charades, Eris? Or did someone cut off your tongue?"

He sighed. "I did not want to be the bearer of bad news, but I guess I still am as I brought you the letter. It's from Feyre. Forgive me for reading it, but it was open when it fell onto my desk."

Y/n's heart slowed down in fright. It... It could also be something good, right? It didn't have to be about her leaving Rhysand. It could be about him getting better and apologizing...

Y/n knew how stupid it was, really, to hope for that.

And even if that hope had really come true, Feyre was responsible enough to not send the letter practically in the middle of the night.

Y/n opened the folded piece of paper, her eyes moving frantically as she read it and searched for words that would soothe her worries.

It was all in vain.

Y/n, I can't live here anymore. I will soon be winnowing to autumn with Nyx. I hope you don't mind.

Y/n suppressed the rage that reared its head in her chest, taking a deep breath as her eyes rose to meet Eris's.

His eyes held the same sadness she felt and was sure were displayed in her own eyes.

"I have weakened the wards enough for both of them to come through without any harm coming to them, and have already ordered the servants to prepare quarters for them to live in. You don't have to worry about much."

Grateful, Y/n moved without realising what she was doing. One moment, she was standing facing him, the cool autumn air curling around her, and the next, she was surrounded by warmth, her face buried in his shoulder, her arms thrown around her neck. He stiffened, but moments later, he relaxed with a heavy sigh, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Thank you." She mumbled onto his welcoming skin, tightening her hold, knowing she shouldn't.

She felt him nod, and she pulled back to glance at him.

If there was any chance Y/n had been mistaken before about him blushing, she wasn't now.

He definitely was blushing, as red as the colour of the leaves in the court he ruled.

"It- it's nothing."

Despite the heavy news that they had received, Y/n felt her lips curl. "Are you blushing, Vanserra?"

He huffed. "Of course not. Why would I blush?"

"You know," Y/n began as se stopped leaning on him and straightened, though his hands tightened on her waist, as if unwilling to let go. Y/n chose to remain silent on the matter. "It is not nice to lie. Did your mother not teach you?"

He leaned his head closer, a smirk forming on his lips. "She might have, but she also focused more on how to treat the female you love the right way. Must've forgotten about the lying lessons."

Y/n blinked, her face going hot. But before she could say anything, she felt Eris stiffen under her arms. He pulled away instantly, tearing his hands through his hair.

"She's here."

Y/n nodded, her hands falling heavily to her sides.

"Let's go welcome them."

•○🌑○•

Part 12

Remember me Taglist: @holb32 @awoa1 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @luvmoo @we-were-beautiful @eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913 @j-pendragonx @thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz @esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten @txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman @leeknows-wife @aria-chikage @amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover @kemillyfreitas @12358 @justdreamstars @cuethedepession @princessvesta @fides25 @nocasdatsgay @acourtofbatboydreams @stained-glass-eyes0708 @glaciuswduo @wallacewillow0773638 @cassie6392 @quackitysdrugdealer @txzii @anuttellaa @coisas-da-dani @hnyclover @sassyslytherinshai @historygeekqueen

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

Eris taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter

[lavenderrmidnightss]

loved you in secret - coriolanus snow

Pairing: peacekeeper!coriolanus x fem!reader

Summary: 

I loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us

Peacekeepers aren’t supposed to fall for anybody who lives in the districts, but Corio can’t stay away from you. Secrets never harmed anyone, right?

Tags: fluff, heated make out, neck kisses, hand on neck, forbidden love, possessive/cocky coriolanus, sneaking around, cursing, plans to run away, mention of boner lol, almost caught

Word Count: 1.6k

The soft grass acted as a blanket beneath you as you settled in, watching the sunset. To potential passersby, you would appear to be just a girl admiring the sky transition from its daily cerulean hue into its ombre mixture of pinks, purples, and oranges, welcoming the evening. While this was true, you were waiting. Eagerly, impatiently. Over the past several months, you’ve been living a secret. You’ve been seeing one of the peacekeepers, Coriolanus.

 As a peacekeeper, Coriolanus has very strict guidelines he is required to follow. Most he abides to, but there is simply one he cannot tolerate. Peacekeepers are not supposed to pursue anybody from the district romantically. Hell, peacekeepers were looked at strangely if they became too friendly with them. He didn’t care. He simply wanted you. From the moment he saw you, he knew he had to make you his. It started with speaking now and then at gatherings, always letting his eyes linger on you to make sure you were safe. Eventually it turned into him pulling you into a quiet alley stealing kisses and planning secret meetings. Whether it would be in abandoned buildings, in the woods at sunrise, hiding out by the lake in the middle of the day; you two never failed to make time for each other. It’s a daily commitment and priority for you both. That being said, you began to wonder where he was now? Corio was supposed to be here by now. Surely he didn’t forget. Maybe he got caught up in work. Your wonderings were cut off by the feeling of two muscular arms engulfing you from behind, pulling you down. 

“There’s my girl,” Corio’s whisper buried into your ear. You shivered as his hot breath radiated against your delicate skin. 

“Here I am,” you giggled back in response. You felt so safe in his arms. Turning your head, your eyes met his sapphires. His buzz cut was starting to grow out slightly. Soon enough you knew he would be demanded to shave it again, but you loved the sight of his blond curls slowly beginning to reveal themselves. “Was startin’ to wonder if you were coming or not,” you confessed. The sound of doves filled the air, a soft spring breeze rushing by you two. Coriolanus’ eyebrows furrowed at your comment, shaking his head. His thumb and index finger grabbed your chin, tilting it up to make sure your eyes were locked on his. 

“Listen, if I say I’m gonna be there, I’ll be there. I don’t care what it takes. I’d never leave you hanging, never leave you guessing. Got it?” He wasn’t trying to come across as harsh, but he needed the sincerity to be crystal clear in his tone. “Never would mislead you. You know that, pretty girl?” The way his thick accent filled your senses made your heart flutter. You nodded, feeling your cheeks brighten a new shade of pink as his hands lifted to tuck loose strands of your hair behind your ear. “Wouldn’t miss this, wouldn’t miss a second with you, for the world,” he added. Coriolanus leaned in, his soft lips grazing over yours. You melted beneath his touch, feeling your eyes flutter shut just by the feather touch of his lips. There was a sudden shift in your breathing, becoming more hollow. Of course Corio picked up on it, thriving off of the power he held over you. Coriolanus cupped your delicate face in his colossal hands as he closed the gap between your lips. Fully pressing his lips against yours, your lungs clenched and chest warmed. His kiss created a sensation you never knew you needed before it happened the very first time. Now, it’s all you dream about. 

Coriolanus was never the type to grow attached to people. He’s cast his wall so high that it’s damn near impossible to climb it. However, with you, Corio has completely obliterated that wall. There’s something about you; your kindness, your sincerity, your wit, your inner beauty matching your outer beauty, the list has no end. Something about you lures him in. You are his safe place, his person he can be himself. Not a peacekeeper. Not an aspiring high academic. He can just be. He can rest in your presence. There’s no judgment between you two. No secrets - at least, among one another. 

His lips captured yours, the sound of lingering smacks filling the air. Coriolanus repositioned himself so he was now in front of you, gently yet assertively laying you down. The kiss unbroken, you were melting beneath him. You’d never wanted a man more than you wanted him. You hummed into the kiss, gaining his attention. Corio pulled back, looking into your eyes. 

“Corio, what if we get caught?” you whispered. It was a question you had asked a million times internally, but never outwardly expressed. Coriolanus chuckled lowly under his breath, his head shaking. 

“Baby girl, I don’t give a fuck if we get caught. You’re all I want.” His lips worked down your neck. Your eyes involuntarily fluttered shut as his tongue left a wet stripe down your fragile skin. “Isn’t that what you want too? Hm?” Corio’s voice was muffled as he nipped down on your neck, causing you to gasp softly. He soothed over the pain quickly by sucking on your skin. Your head tilted back, granting him free access to your neck.

“Mhm, more than anything, Corio,” you breathed out shakily.

Coriolanus moved his lips up your neck, just grazing the shell of your earlobe. “Damn right.” His tone was rich with passion. His lips found yours again, desperate. This time, the kiss felt more fiery; more intense . Your lips moved in sync so effortlessly, so naturally together. It was as if you two were designed for one another. Your lips were like rose petals; silky, delicate, beautiful. To Coriolanus, you were the most addicting taste. Your breathing was hitched in your throat, taken aback by how your lips managed to collide with his so tenderly yet with such hunger. He was devouring you. Devouring how you so submissively followed his lead. Devouring your taste, the way you feel. His teeth sunk into your bottom lip, tugging back enough just to release a shaky gasp from your lips. In response, your hands resorted to the back of his head. Your fingers tangled up in his hair, luring a groan of satisfaction from him. God, you’d never heard a more beautiful sound. With both of your mouths now open from sighing, gasping, the kiss grew sloppy. Corio’s hands explored your body, feeling each delicate curve of your body with desire. One hand rested on your neck not to harm you, but to fully have you not only understand but feel his dominance. His fingertips felt the throbbing of your pulse. It was intensifying, growing faster, as the kiss progressed - much like his. His other hand fell to your hips. His fingers dug into your skin, surely leaving a faint mark to remind you later of his touch. Each connection of your lips was broken slightly. You two were starving, craving each other; impatient for the next moment your lips would find each other again. Before you knew it, Corio’s tongue was exploring your mouth. Whimpering into his kiss, one of your hands moved to rest on top of his forearm where his hand was pressing against your neck. His tongue was warm, immediately massaging itself against yours. The warm, wet sensation of it built a fire deep inside of you, leaving you wanting more of him. 

“Fuck, Corio,” you breathed into the kiss, your hands beginning to wander down his body, begging to explore him fully. However, the dream-like moment was ripped away from you both when a voice erupted from the hill, echoing. 

“Coriolanus!” You recognized the voice. It was Sejanus, Corio’s best friend. Not even he could know the truth. You could never trust anybody enough, not even your closest friends. Corio growled as he lifted his head, looking down at you. 

“We’re not done. You understand?” He asked, his fingertips lightly squeezing your neck before pulling back, rising up to his feet. “Tonight. Midnight. Meet me here. We’re running away.” 

Your eyes widened at this news. It wasn’t a decision you two had ever even discussed before, but it was clear his mind was set. “Wait, what?” You watched Corio straighten out his uniform. You fought a smirk as your eyes naturally fell to find a bulge in his pants. “Corio, I-”

“Listen, I can’t keep up this cat and mouse game. You’re my girl and I’m tired of hiding away. I want you all the time, whenever I want. You are my life, not this peacekeeper bullshit. I don’t care what it takes, where we have to go, what we have to do. We are running away and we’re going to make a life for ourselves. A life we want, a life we desire.” He looked down at you, raising an eyebrow. “Unless, that’s not what you want?” He knew damn well it was what you wanted, and even if it wasn’t you would’ve caved. He has you wrapped around his finger. 

You frantically nodded. “I do, I do,” you quickly said. “Okay. I’ll meet you. Here. Midnight.” He smirked, nodding his head. 

“Good girl,” he whispered, leaving a lingering kiss on your forehead. The sound of trotting footsteps grew louder. Sejanus was only seconds away. He took a moment to steal a quick kiss from your lips, looking into your eyes. “I love you, darlin,” he whispered before running off. You sunk into the meadow’s grass, letting it envelope you, letting the reality of it all sink in. The reality of the heated kiss. The reality of the fact that you were lucky enough to be loved by Coriolanus Snow. The reality of the fact that at midngiht, your life would indefinitely change. While it admittedly frightened you in part of the sense, you were eager to find out just what it means to love Corio openly, not in secret. 

____________

PART 2? 

[jensensfanfic]

OUTHOUSE SHENANIGANS

pairing: justin foley x afab!reader

warnings: smut— top!reader - then top!justin, use of the word 'hole', trying to be quick (but not really lol), getting caught by clay, a little sprinkle of cockwarming

a/n: this just... happened, so it may be shit, but idc. hope you enjoy!

—☆—

"Holy hell, baby, you look so good right now. Taking it so well."

Justin's compliments spur you on further. You swivel your hips and start to move faster, smiling at the sound of his grunts of pleasure.

"Ohh, fuck. Yes."

Your phone chimes from the bedside table, but the text fails to interrupt your movements. You simply plant your hands on Justin's chest for balance and peak over at the glowing screen.

"It's just Clay- fuck."

You lean back again, running your fingers along Justin's arms. You take his hands in yours and guide them to your hips. He gets the message and starts to help you to move, to bounce up and down on his leaking cock.

"What– shit– what did he want?"

"Gonna be home in fifteen– oh my god, Justin, I'm–"

"Shit!" Justin suddenly goes rigid, and in a blink, he has managed to pull out, leaving you feeling empty and confused.

"What the fuck, Justin!?"

"You said Clay was on his way. He'll kill me if he catches us again."

"Asshole. That's it? I was so fucking close, baby." You sigh, then grip his shoulders and push him back down. "Come on, it's been days, I need it."

"Sorry!" Justin is so conflicted, glancing between you and the locked door of the Outhouse. "But–"

"Please, we still have like... 10 minutes." You look around and quickly find Justin's discarded blanket. You reach down and grab it before throwing it over both of you. "There."

"Really?"

"Really." You shift, moving your hips until your still-wet centre meets his half-hard cock. You start to grind on him. "Come on, baby. You wanna finish? Hm?"

The way Justin fully hardens again in mere seconds answers your question before he whispers a "yes."

You grin and then revel in the gasp he makes when you take him in your hands once more. You slap the head of his cock against your pussy a couple of times, causing little jolts of pleasure to ripple throughout your own body. Finally, you rub him around, collecting some of your wetness on his tip before sinking back down onto him.

You both move together for a minute or two before the urge to feel his weight on top of you becomes too intense to ignore. You grip his shoulders again and then lean down to whisper in his ear, "want you to fuck me, baby."

"I am."

"No, I mean–, I need you to fuck me."

Justin shifts then, rolling you over and under him without letting himself slip from the tight warmth of your aching hole.

"Mm, yes!" You readjust the blanket so that it's covering you both completely, then hook your ankles around his bare ass, flexing so that they nudge him into you. "Move now, baby. I need to cum so bad."

—

A few moments later, sated and sweaty, you pull down the blanket. You glance down at Justin, who is still planting gentle kisses all over your chest and neck; something he always does after sex, to calm your shaking, spent body and muscles.

He's still buried inside of you, and you love the feeling, always have. You both love to be connected for as long as possible post-sex.

All of a sudden, you hear the click on the door. Your eyes widen, and you glance down at Justin. He's still focused on kissing every inch of your body as you see Clay walk into the Outhouse.

He stops dead in his tracks, and you both stare at each other for what feels like an eternity but is actually only a handful of seconds.

You shrug, trying to look apologetic and trying harder, not to let out a laugh.

Not a word is spoken, as Clay just sighs. His hands fall limp to his sides, and then he turns around, takes a single step, and leaves.

This time, Justin hears the door slam, and his head pops out of the blanket. "Fuck... again? Clay is so gonna kick me out someday."

—☆—

Taglist: @mockerycrow @wqxianwriting (let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

13 REASONS WHY MASTERLIST

[patrophthia]

do not make him ‘go away’ | tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x hufflepuff!reader

genre: literally just fluff and comedy (bc i love turning dark morally grey character into soft babies), superrrr self indulgent, not beta read.

word count: 4.6K

originally posted on wattpad: a while back lol

"i got knocked off my feet not amnesia."

the corner of his lips perked up at her comment, such a small motion that she almost didn't notice.

"i'll keep that in mind." and then, with a disappointed look thrown at malfoy, riddle asked her, "is he bothering you?"

"kind of," she answered slowly, not trusting where this conversation would go. "why?"

riddle ignored her question, opting on following up with his own instead, "do you want me to get rid of him for you?"

or the trope simply the trope of grumpy reluctant boyfriend and bubbly/fun girlfriend.

she had always loved defense against the dark arts. don't get her wrong, the classes and lessons were always great. professor thea was good at her job, teaching them both the theoretical and physical studies that is needed from the subject.

but now, as she landed flat on her butt, she hated the subject more than she could ever imagine. malfoy was a terrible dueling partner, taking every possible chance to knock her off her feet.

"do you want me to go easy on you badger?" he asked tauntingly, towering over her.

she looked up at him —half expecting for him to offer a hand but he only smirked at her. "you're a dick."

"i sure am." he only watched her struggle with amusement.

there was a scoff from besides him and within a split second he was being nudged over. replacing him was the head boy, leaning down to look at her with furrowed eyebrows. he offered her a hand; one which she took and lifted herself up.

she muttered a quick thanks, not sparing him a look whilst she busied herself with wiping soot off of her clothes. looking back up, she found him gazing at her.

"what's your name?" he asked after a minute, watching her with skepticism.

"[name]?" she replied, unsure. he knew her name, surely he did, they had partnered up during sixth year for a potions project and he can't have forgotten it in the span of one year could he? "i thought you already knew that."

"i did." riddle pursed his lips, nodding to himself. "i just wanted to make sure you knew your name."

she scoffed, giving him a dirty look. "i got knocked off my feet not amnesia."

the corner of his lips perked up at her comment, such a small motion that she almost didn't notice.

"i'll keep that in mind." and then, with a disappointed look thrown at malfoy, riddle asked her, "is he bothering you?"

"kind of," she answered slowly, not trusting where this conversation would go. "why?"

riddle ignored her question, opting on following up with his own instead, "do you want me to get rid of him for you?"

if it were anyone else she would've laughed it off as a joke but tom riddle has this ominous thing about him, one that put you slightly on edge, making it seem as though he would actually follow through with his threat.

so —as annoying as malfoy was, she told him. "no." and then, slightly terrified that she would wake up tomorrow with the news that abraxas malfoy had mysteriously gone missing, she added as a precaution, "don't kill him."

she wasn't sure if she was joking or genuinely scared that riddle would do it for her sake. no matter how much he would deny it, to her —he seemed like a feminist, never failing to hand detentions out to male students who mistreated girls. so killing his cult follower for a woman wouldn't be far from how she characterized of him.

"not unless i'm dying then you can kill him."

it was barely a month later when the same occurrence happened; malfoy was her dueling partner once more, malfoy shot her a spell at her that had her landing on the floor, malfoy mocking her for apparently being a 'weak' dueler, riddle pushing him over and offering her a helping hand.

asking her, "can i kill him now?"

to which she replied, without fail. "no."

riddle gave her a dissatisfied look but kept his hands off of malfoy nonetheless, respecting her request.

why he listened to what she said, she couldn't answer.

not until he asked her to call him tom (or maybe something else a significant other would use), not until tom asked to be her boyfriend, not until tom reluctantly agreed to trail after her on a trip to hogsmeade with her friends.

it seems as though tom could never say no to her.

"are you ready?" she asked, peeking her head inside of his dormitory's door.

tom whipped his head around from where he stood in front of his mirror, looking less than excited to be going out today. "yes."

"great," she tried to stop herself from squealing, pushing the door open so she could approach his side. "i can't wait for you to meet them, they think i'm lying to them about you."

tom fully turned himself to face her, giving her a once over and taking in how she looked.

pretty.

as always.

he felt something flutter in his chest, pride for having her? excitement in finally going to honey dukes after hearing so much about it? the hope of being able to convince her to let him make malfoy go away? love?

no it can't be. he was conceived after a love potion, he can't love. feeling slightly frustrated with himself, tom grumbled, "stop looking at me like that."

she furrowed her brows, curious by what he meant. "like what?"

"like you have feelings for me."

"tom," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose out of irritation. "i'm literally your girlfriend, i'm supposed to have feelings for you."

tom blinked. her telling him that she was his girlfriend shouldn't have felt as good as he did. what the fuck is wrong with him. defeatedly, he muttered, "i'm breaking up with you."

"yeah sure you are."

•••

"so how long have you been going out?" rae asked, acting oblivious as if [name] hadn't told her every single detail about their relationship.

she smiled, nudging for tom to answer.

tom took a deep breath. a response that rae was silently hoping for after hearing about just how grumpy and moody tom was from her friend. trying to tease him without doing so much as saying anything provoking.

he then smiled, turning on his charms in order to converse. "five months and thirteen days."

trying to get under her boyfriend's skin, [name] frowned, feigning confusion. "five months?"

"yes." tom cleared his throat, glaring at her. "and thirteen days."

"is that right?" rae questioned, trying to irk him. "[name] told me you've only been together for three months."

the slytherin turned to her, his face showing offense. "you did?"

"i love the weather this morning," she said instead, trying to distract him.

yet tom was persistent, he knew they were having a laugh, he wasn't daft, but it certainly didn't feel good to hear rae say what she said. "did you?"

"merlin isn't it crowded today?" she ignored him, looking out the carriage's window as it pulled to halt. she opened the door, landing on solid ground before looking back to where she was sat. with a tilt of her head, she signaled for them to exit as well. "what are you waiting for?"

tom sulked as he got off the carriage, a small pout on his lips. "are you going to answer me?"

she looked down the streets, seeing it packed with people from left to right before turning to him, letting her hand find his and interlocking it. "no."

tom felt a urge to pull his hand away, not used to PDA but it felt so right, so right that he went against his better judgement and mumbled something so stupid he mentally facepalmed himself. "why are you touching me?"

she only giggled in response, noting the confuse tone he had instead of being vexed by his words. "so i wouldn't lose you. you can't expect me to keep track of you with this many people around, can you? i can't lose my boyfriend."

not when he was a dark wizard who was constantly reminded that killing people is a morally wrong thing to do. "what if you start finding people to join your little fan club?"

having to tell him to not use the basilisk for salazar slytherin's quote-unquote unfinished business was hard enough for her to handle, let alone telling forty —maybe even fifty others, that it was a wrong action to take.

maybe it was her 'i can fix him' mentality but in all honesty, tom has been behaving way better ever since they'd gotten together then aragog has all year. and yes, she knew it was wrong to compare a human to an acromantula but when the said human was conceived under a love potion and has no real concept of what love is.

if he was as good as a spider, he was good to go.

"you say that like i'm evil," tom murmured, barely audible due to the loud chatter hogsmeade provided.

"you're not?" she countered incredulously. "didn't you say you wanted horcruxes despite knowing what it takes to make one?"

"yeah but . . ." he trailed off, finding himself at a loss of a word. "i didn't end up making one, idiot."

what an endearing nickname. "that doesn't make it any better, tom. you still thought about it."

"but i didn't make it."

•••

being head boy brought tom gossip. whether he cared for it or not, it always follows him. he had heard every rumors there was, knowing them thoroughly from start to finish. tom never bothered to care about them, not until he found himself becoming friends with a group of girl who would talk their heads of about anything.

with a "come in!" from his girlfriend, tom opened the door to her dorm room. he shut it behind him, eyes roaming around to try and find her. finally his eyes landed on where she sat by her desk, head low, crouching over a long strip of parchment.

"walburga and orion are betrothed." he stated, standing by her side.

"what?" rae screamed before she could, power walking out of the bathroom with her tooth brush in hand. "the blacks?"

"who else," tom said with a roll of his eyes.

that caught her attention, she turned to him, curiosity written all over her face. "aren't they cousins?"

"they're pure-bloods, inbreeding is in their genes," came octavia, [name]'s dormmate and friend who was nicer than rae would ever be. then, with a look of distaste, she added, "how could they force an engagement on orion? he's literally a fifth year while walburga graduated last year. it's disgusting."

"well," rae snickered, "what else would we expect from the black family?"

"i also caught macmillan and weasley are snogging on my rounds today," tom said, sitting down on his girlfriend's bed. "asked me to keep it a secret but there's only so much to be kept in the chamber."

rae chortled, hand covering her mouth. "you know, in my native language they would call you ប្រុសមាត់ក្តួយ (pronounced pros-moit-kdouy)."

[name]'s brow knitted along with tom's, narrowing their eyes at rae. "what does that mean?"

rae only giggled, sitting up on her bed with octavia listening it. "it technically means 'a man who can't keep his mouth shut about drama' in khmer but the literal translation is a guy with a vagina for a mouth."

"what the fuck." tom muttered, eyes wide. the three girls in the room bursted out laughing, that must've been the first time they'd ever hear him curse. "why would you call me that?"

"because you are," rae countered.

"i'm not!" he argued, "you just called me a labia."

"she never called you a labia," came [name] from his side, "you called yourself that."

"i-" tom paused, unable to tell if he himself was angry, annoyed, amused or disgusted by their conversation. "i don't like you guys anymore."

"you're welcome to leave any time you want," rae quipped, gesturing towards the door. "or find new friends."

octavia changed the topic, done with their bantering and told them about a story with a guy she'd met. apparently they'd been going out for a total of three months, keeping it a secret, before he cheated on her.

she was mad at him but he made it seem as if it was her fault; telling her that what she heard was true but he couldn't stop about thinking them. and he knows that she's been there a few time as well, insinuating that octavia could ever do something as wrong as cheating.

there was a look tom shot his girlfriend when octavia finished recalling everything that happened between her and chris marsh.

[name] sighed, knowing why exactly he gave her the look and shook her head. "no."

"but-"

"no buts," she interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose with frustration, "you cannot kill him. we talked about this tom."

"i know but he's hurting her," he pointed out, "and she's your friend so. . ."

"tom please," she pleaded, "no killing is justifiable unless one of us in danger with actual death."

"promise me i won't wake up to find out that marsh is missing."

"i promise that you won't wake up to find out that marsh is missing," said tom defeatedly.

•••

tom looked ridiculously stupid, he knew that. he sighs, feeling rae smearing wet paint on his face. the things he did for his girlfriend.

if you were to go back in time to tell tom riddle that he would be sitting on a chair getting his face painted black and yellow for a quidditch game, he'd think you were having a laugh and cast a killing curse at you.

but now, being told repeatedly to, "stay still you pesky snake" by his girlfriend's friend as she watched the two of them interact without the smallest hint of jealousy, tom —he would never ever in a million years admit this— couldn't be happier.

there was such a soft domestically about it, him getting along with her friend without the urge to kill rae or for rae to kill him, knowing that they were friends who just liked to threatened one another was more than anything tom could ask for.

he felt good, despite the uncomfortableness that came with donning a different set of colors. he (surprisingly) didn't care that he wasn't dressed in green in silver, being more than happy to be supporting her.

after finally being let go by rae; tom stood up, facing his girlfriend. with a tilt to his head, he asked her, "i thought i could be very persuasive until i met you."

"never thought i'd be going to quidditch game, let alone support another house." his eyes then glanced to a mirror that stood besides her, taking in his own appearance. salazar, rae must be taking the piss, he looked like a clown. eyes shifting back to her, he asked tiredly, "are you happy now?"

"i am if you are," she responded, taking a step towards him."i'm not," tom grumbled truthfully, not hiding a single ounce of annoyance. she shrugged, smiling. "that's too bad, i take back what i said. i'm happy now."

the three made their way out of her dorm and into the hufflepuff's common room to meet up with octavia. tom eyes quickly roamed the room, surprised by how many of the students who were spending their time there was from another house.

from his quick scan, tom had managed to count a total of five slytherins. three of which who were visibly miserable, face painted yellow with their friend or significant other beaming besides them. and the other two, being the ones who were forcing face paint onto their ravenclaw and gryffindor friends.

no matter how much time he'd spent welcomed in the hufflepuff common room. tom would never understand how they could be so comfortable with letting anyone enter whenever they pleased. that would not flow well with the slytherins.

up the great hall they went, passing the grand entrance before leaving the castle entirely and making their way to the quidditch pitch.

with a kiss on tom's cheek, an action that had his eyes widening and face flushed red, she bid him, rae, and octavia a goodbye before making her way into the changing room.

rae led the way towards the stands, fighting with tom about where the appropriate seat for him would be.

"no not in the slytherin section," rae argued, trying to find the best place for their group of three. "how could you be the head boy and be so stupid?"

"you're sitting in the hufflepuff row where your girlfriend would be looking for support from," she said with a tone of obviousness, finally settling down at a place she found best suited for the three of them. "honestly."

the match ended quickly, she'd had spotted the snitch within the first thirty minutes of the game before she started her pursuit and caught it in the next four minutes.

gryffindor lost by a hundred and ten points and without consciously knowing it, tom found himself cheering loudly for her, his voice was overpowered by rae but it was the thoughts that count.

there was a flash from his side, he turned, finding octavia giggling with a polaroid in hand. she wordlessly offered it to him. tom took it, curious as what he would find on it.

the picture developed bit by bit, revealing tom in frozen cheerful state, eyes bright as he watched the scene before him, his forehead was yellow, his mouth gaping with its corner tipping upwards. behind him was rae, on her feet with her hands pressed against the railing, frantically screaming at something the picture couldn't fully depict.

"you're not keeping it." octavia told him. "it's for [name]."

octavia then slipped a hand into her pocket, picking out a new picture and handed it to him. "you can have this though."

inspecting it, tom found a picture of himself frowning on his girlfriend's bed. she sat besides him, laughing as if her life depended on it, her head was thrown back, a hand clutching onto her stomach.

tom pocketed the picture, smiling to himself. "when did you take this?"

"when she told you to not make marsh 'go away'."

•••

graduation came and tom was quick to ask her to move in with him. she was skeptical at first, reasoning with him that neither of them had jobs that provided enough for them to have a financially stable home, but that idea was shot down when tom told her that the ministry had already reached out to him.

offering him a job that would let them live a comfortable life. they moved in together shortly after, finding a small cottage that looked perfect for the two.

she was able to turn her hobbies into a job, making her more than just happy. by 1950, tom —with all his slytherin ambitions— found his way to the top, earning the position of minister of magic.

it was late when tom came home, having to run over a last-minute case that malfoy presented him. he shrugged his coat off, trying to be quiet as to not wake his (still) girlfriend up. tom found his way into their bedroom where he found the en-suite door wide opened, he walked forward trying to take peek.

inside was her stood in front of the mirror, taking off her make up with a cotton pad when she spotted him, her eyes shifted to him for a second before turning back to herself. "how was work?"

"it was good," he answered, tugging at his tie. and then he furrowed his brows, lip tugged underneath his teeth. quietly, he muttered, "let's get married."

she blinked rapidly, not believing her own ears, she whipped around with a small noise of confusion, facing him. "what did you say?"

"let's get married," he repeated casually, finally getting his tie off. "are you proposing to me?" she asked him."yes." he nodded. "i thought that was clear."

"so yes or no?"

the wedding took place two years later, with it being repeatedly postponed due to tom's work but it was perfect nonetheless. they had friends and coworkers (that they actually liked) at the ceremony. rae teased tom endlessly, not once giving him a break for taking so long to propose.

in 1959, octavia invited them to dinner at her house, her and husband having an announcement for them all to hear. but before she got to the good part, octavia told her about some of the not-so-good news.

her husband, dawn, was recently bitten by a werewolf. he was having a hard time experiencing the transitions during the full moon so they had a request for them.

now here comes the good news along with her favor: octavia was pregnant, she was four weeks long and since it was only her and dawn.

she will be needing help.

"that's all?" rae asked, frowning. isn't it already implied that rae, her, and tom would all help her when she'd gotten herself knocked up? "you know you needn't ask right? i will be spoiling that child rotten."

octavia smiled, feeling relief. why did she even feel nervous in the first place? these were her friends, the same ones who collectively bullied every man she's ever broken up with. they will always have her back. "that's all."

and then she added, "i just thought it might be a burden to you guys. it's just- it will be hard since dawn would have to recover from the full moon and i'd have to work, so i need people who i can trust to babysit the kid sometimes."

"you could never be a burden," [name] said, "not when i can be the cool aunt."

"oh please," rae let out a loud cackle, "you would never be the cool aunt. that's me."

octavia gave birth on november, 3rd, 1959 to a lovely girl named clementine calla azure. the same day that the blacks welcomed their first son, sirius orion black. rae (would lie if you ever pointed this out to her) was ecstatic when clementine turned out cuter than the black's son did.

she, liked she had stated months prior, spoiled the child to death. buying it everything it could possibly want, babysitting it every time octavia even looked like she needed help.

octavia —instead of using the time to relax, spent her time creating a wolfsbane potion. making the potion was a tedious process but she had more than enough time from tom changing clementine's diaper because he, despite being forced, had promised that he would also help with her baby.

rae was an author who made enough for herself to live lavishly. apparently, muggles really love the story about a dark wizard trying to kill a little kid for his chance to be immortal.

"so," rae clapped with clementine prompted on her hip. tom, dawn, octavia and [name] were all scattered around the living room, sitting down and listening to rae as she stood. "you're probably wondering why i called you all over."

there were noises of confirmation before rae started up again. "i've been doing some research lately and there's more people who has been involuntary bitten than you would think. basically what i'm saying is that tom —since you're the god of magic or whatever— needs to draw up a new bill where werewolves would be known by the ministry and themselves only so the ministry can provide help."

"werewolves tend to have a hard time finding work and keeping the job since they would have to recover every full moon and miss work days. the potion octavia created is going to be recorded in the history book, we know that, but something else that should be recorded in history is how the lovely tom riddle —who i definitely like and doesn't want to have a one v one with— made a law or whatever, where if a werewolf is legally signed in with the ministry, they get a wolfsbane potion provided by the ministry by owl every month."

"they're extremely costly rae, and they take a ridiculous amount of time to make." dawn was quick to point out the flaw, understanding this topic more than anyone else in the room. "not to mention how there's millions of people like me out there, we won't be able to get them to everybody."

"tom is like the zeus of magic," rae said, slightly irritated that they didn't just agree right of the bat. "if he just created a lab and put twenty of the best witches and wizards in there with large pots and get it brewing, they can make it work. and as for the products needed, there's always herbologists that needs work —not trying to stereotype but most of them are hufflepuffs, they would take the chance to help without even thinking twice."

"it will work, trust me," rae said, almost pleading, "what do you say, riddle?"

the law, or bill, or whatever it was, was put into place shortly after. werewolves were scared and skeptical at first, always having been labeled as monsters until eventually people started piling in for help and they were given what they needed. octavia loved her new job at the ministry for it meant she could be helping out her husband and everyone like him whilst also having the freedom to invent whatever else she wanted.

"tavia brought clementine to work today," tom stated, making his way into their library. "so i've been thinking."

"oh no," she muttered, dropping her book onto her lap, "you never have good thoughts after seeing clementine."

tom tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. "what do you mean?"

"last time you saw her, you decided that it was a good idea to have your basilisk follow after her when she grows up so she'd never get hurt," she answered, looking up at him as he stood before her.

tom shrugged. "i don't see any flaws in that plan, if anything i think it's the best thing for clementine."

"how can you be the minister of magic and be an absolute dumbass?" she laughed, feeling his hand reach down to rest on her cheek.

"because, i'm not," he said easily, eyes focused on hers, "and believe it or not i actually have a brilliant idea that you might actually like for once."

"alright," she muttered, amusing him, "what is it?"

"i think clementine should have a cousin."

"clementine already has a cousin—"

"that's not what i meant, idiot," tom cut her off, a small smile etching on his lips, "you know exactly what i'm trying to say. don't play dumb, pet."

"i actually don't know what you meant," she said matter-of-factly, feigning innocent, "please explain."

tom sighed. "i want us to try for a baby."

"i thought you hated kids."

"i do," he agreed, "but i also know that i wouldn't hate them if they were ours."

— from bee: this was very OOC but idc,,, fluffy tom or no tom ever (i have the i can fix him mentality)

[crheativity]

…YOUR CALL.

SUMMARY: The time has come for you to depart from Twisted Wonderland. Fortunately, it might not need to be forever.

WARNINGS: This is angsty, but with a happy ending!

COMMENTS: asdfjhgh writing via dictation is hard, I can’t think and talk at the same time apparently LOL, enjoy!

(Find part 1 here)

“What are you doing here?” Ace asked, suspicious. “Shouldn’t you be in tutoring sessions with Riddle right now?”

Ace and Grim were standing outside of Crowley’s office. He had been wondering why headmage had suddenly wanted to see him and Grim, and now that Deuce had arrived, he was even more confused. He didn’t think he had done anything wrong — at least, nothing worth talking to the principal about. And now Deuce was here too.

Curiouser and curiouser.

“Well, I should be,” Deuce replied, “ but I suddenly got a summons from Crowley. Riddle agreed to postpone the lesson as this is probably a lot more important.”

“Yeah no kidding.” Ace crossed his arms. “Got any idea what we’re here for?”

“Not unless you’ve done something wrong.” Deuce grumbled. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Hey! That was uncalled for. I’ve gotten a lot better lately.” Ace huffed and rolled his eyes.

That was true, Deuce thought. We both have.

In the months you’ve been away, a lot has changed. Deuce had thrown himself into his studies and his track team meets, Ace had started (reluctantly) babysitting Grim and focusing on basketball a lot more and Grim was trying harder than ever to become the best mage he could be.

Yet they never forgot you.

Every day, at least one of them would make the long walk to Ramshackle. They would ensure that the place was neat and tidy and that there were still snacks in the cupboard. After all, you were supposed to be coming back soon, right?

…Right?

No matter how hard they tried to contact you, they never heard anything from you. They never saw you online. You never sent that promised message that you were okay.

None of them wanted to admit it, but they were worried.

“At any rate, we should head inside. It’s just about time.” Deuce said, glancing at his watch.

“Do you guys think this might have something to do with…?” Grim interrupted nervously.

Silence. Ace and Deuce glanced at each other.

“Best not to get our hopes up.” Ace said cheerfully, though neither Deuce nor Grim could miss the strain in his voice. He hastily knocked on the door.

“Come in!” The headmage’s voice called out.

Taking a deep breath, they opened the door.

“Ah, how wonderful it is to see the three of you again!” Crowley exclaimed with a smile. He got up from behind his desk and made his way towards the three of them. “How have your studies been of late?”

“Er, fine, thanks.” Ace replied, awkwardly. He definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“Excellent, excellent! No doubt due in some small part to my excellent guidance, no?” He clapped his hands together. “Ah, my kindness truly knows no bounds!”

“Um, headmage?” Deuce asked, “What is it that you wanted to talk to us about?”

Crowley grinned.

“Ah yes, about that. You see, I am a generous man.” Crowley laced his fingers behind his back and started to pace in front of them. “I care for my students—“

Ace snorted, and Deuce stood on his foot. Crowley shot a glare at the two of them.

“Ahem. As I was saying, I care for my students, and try to make myself aware of their behaviours on campus so that I may reward those who do good deeds and punish those who failed to comply with the rules. Are you following?”

Ace, Deuce and Grim shared a glance.

“Not particularly.” Ace replied.

Crowley groaned. “I am simply trying to express my gratitude for your continuing, and unwavering maintenance of the Ramshackle dorm, and for your continued hope in the magicless Prefect’s return.”

Their hearts sank. Was that all he wanted?

“Of course, such impressive dedication must be rewarded, no?” Crowley nodded, staring at the door to his office behind them.

“We’re getting a reward?” Ace asked, confused,

“Why of course! If you will turn around and look.”

The three of them turned around—

And gasped.

“Hi!” You grinned at the three of them. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t contact you guys sooner, apparently my Wi-Fi is different from your Wi-Fi so the phone didn’t wo—“

Before you could finish your sentence, two pairs of arms had reached out and grabbed you, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. Wrapping your arms around them, you held your two best friends close.

“I missed you guys so much.”

“We missed you too, Prefect.” Deuce mumbled, giving you an extra squeeze.

“Please don’t leave ever again.” Ace muttered, and Deuce nodded vehemently.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on it for at least—“

“Henchman!”

Extracting yourself from the hug, you looked around to see Grim standing in front of you. tears sprung up in your eyes at the sight of him.

“Grim!” You began to make your way towards him, planning to scoop him into a hug.

“Not so fast!” Grim exclaimed. He was clearly very happy to see you, but someone had to maintain appearances. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, leaving your master on his own for so long!”

“What do you mean on your own, huh?” Ace retorted. “I’ve had to babysit you this entire time!”

“Yes yes, you’ve been a very good substitute henchman I suppose.” Grim waved Ace’s comments away. “But that does not excuse the fact that my henchman abandoned me!”

Ace scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Grim.” You did your best to appear contrite. “I’ll buy some tuna to make up for it?”

“Better be the best tuna Twisted Wonderland has to offer.” Grim crossed his paws, trying to appear angry, but the smile on his face, and the tears in his eyes, gave him away.

You scooped the cat into a tight squeeze. “Of course it will be.”

“Well then,” Grim spoke happily, returning the hug. “I suppose I can reinstate you as my henchman.”

“Job’s all yours” Ace grumbled.

“Ah, such a happy reunion! Aren’t I so generous, spending all that time finding a way for the Prefect to return, hm?”

You grinned. You’d almost missed the headmage’s benevolent speeches.

You sighed happily.

“I’m back.”

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

you’re so gorgeous it makes me so mad || Hyunjin

[Picture credit: 너는봄]

Pairing: Hyunjin x f!reader

Summary: There’s you, there’s Hyunjin, and then there’s the girl that thinks that flirting with him will get her somewhere. It doesn’t, but it does get you to fuck him in the bathroom

Word count: 4.4k

Genres: PWP, bit of fluff

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex in the context of a long-term established relationship, sub!hyunjin, oral (male receiving), vaginal sex, fingering (female receiving), jealousy, possessiveness kink?, hints of praise kink, bathroom sex, semi-public sex, implied College AU, dancer!hyunjin, this is quite filthy by my standards lol, some feelings in there too but it’s quite soft.

Hyunjin always looks most in his element when he’s performing.

That is what makes him so fascinating to watch when he’s on stage. His focused expression, the way his body moves exactly how he wishes it to, with no room for error. Confidence and power radiate from him and light up the room, forcing all the eyes to focus on him. He’s the heart of any stage he’s on, easily eclipsing others.

Sitting in the audience, you’re always taken in by what a sight he is, no matter how many times you’ve seen it. Beads of sweat travel down his body, hips roll with the rhythm, and you know for a fact that anyone who meets his eyes during the performance will feel like he’s staring straight into their soul. His long hair are like a halo around him, only perfecting the look — blonde, and he looks like a sinful angel, red or black, and he’s a demon.

You think that’s why you also enjoy watching him when you’re at parties.

Sure, it isn’t as obvious then, but to the trained eye, there are telltale signs. One of them is the fact that he never hesitates. He never stumbles on his words, never has to stop himself in the middle of a sentence because he forgot where he was going with it, never gets it wrong. His expressions remain controlled, even when he throws his head back laughing, even when he high-fives his partners as he wins whatever drinking game they’re playing and performs happiness. He always times the moment when he runs his hand through his hair just right, and his smile is a smirk, lifting only one corner of his lips. He never fails to meet his interlocutor’s eyes, and, it is not rare for the other person to lose their train of thought under the attention he gives them.

It’s almost as interesting a sight as when he’s on stage, but it also isn’t Hyunjin.

Maybe that’s why it doesn’t bother you so much that you’re watching from across the room, leaning against the door frame, as he’s playing a game of pool with some of the other dancers from the company. You don’t feel too embarrassed about staring, because you’re certainly not the only one who’s interested in the way his long, muscular body looks as he leans over the table.

From where you are, you can’t get a good look at his ass, though.

Shame.

You should probably find something else to do. You could get a hold of Jisung, he’s always fun to be around; find out what Minho’s up to and how he’s going to ensure that the party descends into chaos; or, more simply, go sit down next to Seungmin and enjoy a nice conversation — until Minho inevitably recruits the both of you for his scheme, of course.

Or you could stay here and keep watching Hyunjin like you’re interested in the game of pool — what are the rules again? —, knowing full well that he’s aware of your eyes on him and that he’s enjoying the attention.

“Oh, I am so going home with him tonight,” a voice comments to your right, just a little too loud, making you glance in that direction.

There are two girls there. The one that spoke is tall, with legs for days. She has a beer in her hand, and she's twirling a lock of bleached blonde hair around her finger. Her eyes are, without a doubt, set on Hyunjin. And you’d bet she wanted you to hear it.

“He looks like sex on legs,” her friend comments, clicking her tongue appreciatively.

The remark makes you grimace, though you try to hide it. It’s not that you don't get the feeling behind the comment, it's just that it feels weird to hear people actually talk about Hyunjin like that in front of you. If you were more confrontational — or if you’d had a little more to drink — you probably would have snapped.

Shit, you should have gotten Minho when you had the chance. He would have said something.

“You’re not the only one who's going to be shooting your shot,” the friend adds, like an afterthought.

“Yeah, but I’m the only one who’s in the same league as him,” the blonde chuckles, and you see her eyes darting in your direction for less than a second.

You raise an eyebrow. So that was the point she was trying to make. There’s probably a time where the comment would have made you shrink on yourself, thrown you into a self-deprecating loop. Right now, you just hide the smile that threatens to break on your face by taking a sip of orange juice.

‘Cause you’re the designated friend-who-has-to-stay-sober-just-in-case of the night.

You still don’t say anything, this time less because you don’t want to fight and more because now, you kind of want to see where this goes.

As if on cue (ha), the game of pool ends. Blondie sees an opening and takes it immediately.

Maybe you’d be happy for her, or a little impressed, if she hadn’t already proved to be such a bitch.

You watch as she saunters close to the table and asks if she can play, as Hyunjin hands her a cue and she makes sure to make eye contact and brush her fingers against his. There’s an ever so slight slip of the mask during which Hyunjin’s eyes move towards you, before he gets back on script.

It doesn’t take long for blondie to start missing shot after shot, and to turn around at Hyunjin, pouting and asking if he can give her a hand.

It’s well done, you’d give her that if she wasn’t trying to fuck him and if she hadn’t practically insulted you to your face.

Hyunjin’s the perfect mix of helpful and gentlemanly. He doesn’t wrap himself around her like she clearly wants him to, but he does give her pointers, and you can’t help but frown when he puts his hand on her back to guide her. She looks delighted, clearly seeing it as a victory. Hyunjin glances in your direction, and you reply by raising your eyebrow.

It would be easy, really, to walk over and start fighting for his attention as well, but that would make you just another part of the show, and that’s not what you do. It’s not that you can’t perform, it’s that you won’t do it for people’s entertainment — and this would entertain them.

So, once Hyunjin’s eyes are back on the table, with a tint of red coloring his ears, you let yourself slip away. It is something you have a hard time understanding about him, how hard it is for him to do things that would displease the people around him, things that don’t fit with his role. Especially because, underneath it, he’s nothing like the character he portrays.

Having gotten out of the sea of drunken bodies, you find a window that’s unoccupied, in an empty corridor, and you lean outside, taking a deep breath. It’s not exactly ideal; there are people smoking two windows to the right and it makes your nose scrunch in disgust, but at least it’s colder inside than out. The night is filled with the sound of cars rather than the silence you’re craving, and the stars shine dimly with all the light pollution. Still, it’s outside, and it may not be great, but it’s truthful. What you see is what you get.

The word people used most to describe Hyunjin was mysterious. Though he was at every party, he stuck with a small group of friends, and sometimes the people who danced in the same company as him. He was quiet, but he was also a good listener, and there was something about the way he held himself — tall, shoulders straight —, about the way he grinned, about how his eyes took in the people around him, that fascinated them.

There were lots of other words thrown around to talk about him. Arrogant, confident, cold, hot, scornful, selective — enough contradictions to make your head spin.

You’re convinced that no one would use those words to describe Hyunjin by anyone who actually knows him. Hyunjin is— He’s one of the sweetest people you know. He gets embarrassed when complimented and avoids eye contact. He’s shy, not arrogant or scornful, and forging genuine relationships takes him time and energy, two things he rarely has to spare. He ugly cries when watching dramas. He doesn’t like the attention nearly as much as he likes the effort itself, likes knowing that he does well. He gets exhausted after every performance, whether it’s being out in public or on stage, and afterwards, he just wants to stay inside, and get taken care of.

Ideally, by you.

Large hands come to rest on either side of you as you feel a chest against your back and a quick kiss pressed against your neck.

“Everything okay?” Hyunjin asks.

It’s interesting to you how even his voice changes. It’s always softer with you. Even when you’re hanging out with his friends and when he’s joking around with Felix or Minho, it’s like he’s not— projecting it. Like he’s not performing anymore.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Hyunjin mumbles into your neck, breath warm against your skin, and you turn around with a smile.

The worry in his eyes dissipates as you wrap your arms around him, threading your fingers through his hair. It’s black at the moment; you recently helped him go back to the color after he got tired of being blonde. It’s damaged still, but that doesn’t stop you — and you enjoy the shiver that goes through him when your nails graze against the nape of his neck.

“I thought you liked it when I get jealous?”

Immediately, his hips stutter into you and his eyes go wide.

“I—” He clears his throat, hands tightening around the railing behind you. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, dodging the remark.

“I’m not hurt,” you hum. Truth is, you’re not really the jealous type. You don’t think you could be with Hyunjin if you were. You’ve had a few… outbursts, though, at the beginning of your relationship, which left you ashamed at first — at least until you realized that Hyunjin was very much into it. You wouldn’t have expected it, considering the fact that he was clearly uncomfortable with other people’s possessiveness over him, but he seems to feel differently about you doing it.

Which is why you don’t hesitate too much about pushing one of your legs between Hyunjin’s legs and pressing your thigh against his crotch.

“But I could be jealous.”

Hyunjin remains still, but there is a tension to his body. It’s obvious to you that he’s trying to hold himself back, to resist the temptation of humping your leg like a dog. As his eyes search yours, trying to figure out what’s going on in your head, you can feel him growing half hard against you, can see his tongue darting out to wet his lips, can see the way they part as he draws in a quick breath.

“A-are you?” he asks when he only finds playfulness and teasing in your demeanor.

“Hmm,” you say, flexing your thigh just to hear a low hiss coming from him, tracing small circles on his neck with your index finger, “I certainly think that it wouldn’t hurt to give a little reminder of what's mine.”

It’s always a delight to see Hyunjin give in. It rarely takes much pushing — you wouldn’t try to get him to do anything he doesn’t want — but the thrill is not in the chase. It’s in the way his eyes widen, in how he bites his lip as the tiniest of whimpers rises from the back of his throat, and it's in the jerk of his hips into you.

In this moment, you know you have all of his attention, in a way none of the people that surround him ever will. That look in his eyes right now, behind the desire, is the same you see when you wake up in his arms, is the same you sometimes catch him giving you when you’re working at the table of your apartment and he’s on the sofa watching his dramas.

It’s a look that is exclusively yours.

“Would you like that, Hyunjin?” you purr. One of your hand comes to cup his face, thumb gently brushing against his jaw. His skin is soft under your fingers.

You see him hesitate, let him take his time. Finally, he leans towards you and kisses you, soft and slow. You let him set his rhythm, feel him get more impatient when you don't take the lead. His hips move once more against your thigh, more demanding this time, and you can feel him growing harder.

You pull away from the kiss and he chases after you before stopping himself. You suspect he probably had to fight himself to avoid letting out a whine in protest.

“We should probably take care of that, don’t you think?”

It’s not that you wouldn’t like to see him humping your leg until he comes in his pants, but you don’t think the setting is ideal for that. The two of you still need to get home after that, and you know Hyunjin would absolutely hate having to walk around in sticky underwear — though you don’t doubt that he would very much enjoy the moment preceding that.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin replies, voice low and raspy. “Yeah, we, er, we should.”

You grab his hand, pulling him after you. He offers no resistance, is perhaps even just a little too eager to walk after you. Most times, you think there is something feline about him, about the grace with which he moves. In times like these, though, he’s much more like a puppy, and that’s just as cute.

You beeline for the bathroom, pushing Hyunjin inside when you see it's empty. You might piss off a few people, but you can't find it in yourself to care when you finally give in and press yourself against Hyunjin, hands roaming over his body, and kiss him hungrily. The moan he gives comes muffled by your mouth. Much to your regret, you won’t be able to hear him get loud in here.

Oh well. The night’s still young. Ditching this terrible party surely won't hurt.

You don't hesitate to palm him through his jeans. He’s rock hard now, pants tight around his cock, and he pulls away, biting his lip to keep himself from crying out. There’s loud music outside, and there are definitely other people fucking somewhere else in the building, yet you still tease as your fingers trace his length.

“You can’t make too much noise in here or they’ll hear you, babe.”

Hyunjin nods, pressing one hand against his mouth. You know your touch is too light to provide him much relief — it just gives him an idea of the pleasure — yet he’s already blushing up to the tip of his ears. You can’t resist adding a little bit of fuel to the fire.

“Do you want everyone in here to know that you’re mine?”

The effect is immediate. He pushes himself into your hand and his eyes open to give you a pleading look.

How could you ever resist him?

After a glance at the floor — it looks clean enough and you’re going to leave it at that —, you drop to your knees. You take a little more time than you need to unzip his pants and pull them down over muscular thighs, mostly so you can hear him whine your name in protest. Then, finally, you free his cock, and it springs out of his boxer, hard against his stomach.

Now, you’re not someone who pays that much attention to guys’ dicks in general. It’s not the tool it’s the way you use it and all that, plus you’ve found that some guys assume that size is all that matters and don’t bother putting it any effort. That being said, even you know that Hyunjin is big. Just thinking about the way his cock stretches you makes you press your thighs together. You’re growing wetter by the second, and seeing that Hyunjin's already dripping with pre-come doesn’t help. You reach up to tease his tip with a finger. Hyunjin whimpers into his hand.

“So hard for me, babe,” you coo. “All for me, right?”

You see his cock twitch, and he nods fervently.

“Yes, yes, just for you, puh-please—”

He’s just too cute, you think, and then you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, glancing up to see him throw his head back. The hand that’s not pressed against his mouth and doing a poor job of keeping the moans to spill out comes to grab your head, though he doesn’t try to push himself deeper. You move your tongue against the head, taking your time to wet it properly. You can feel the muscles of Hyunjin’s thighs twitching desperately, and the knowledge of how much you’re affecting him is insanely hot to you.

With one hand, you reach between your legs, easily sliding a finger inside yourself, soon followed by another. You take his cock in deeper as you keep fucking yourself with your hand. Your eyes are focused on him, on all the delicious ways in which he expresses his pleasure. You know he’s trying his best to control himself, yet his hips keep jerking forward, shallowly fucking your mouth even as he’s trying not to. You moan around his shaft, and a more high-pitched sound comes out of his throat when he feels the vibrations.

As his hand isn’t enough, you see him pushing two fingers inside his mouth and biting down on them softly. The sight is absolutely sinful, and you can’t resist rewarding him by hollowing your cheeks around him. Of course, that only makes him try harder to contain the noises, but that just adds to the fun.

“God, Hyunjin,” you groan, pulling off of his cock briefly, giving him a reprieve, “you’re so fucking hot for me.”

He blubbers something around his fingers — ‘just for you’, you suspect — and you get back to his cock with a grin. You press wet kisses along his length, flicking your tongue against it, and wrap your hand around the base to stroke it carefully. You don't want him to come just yet, though the moment is definitely approaching. Can’t hog the bathroom all night, after all.

You interrupt your ministrations for a few seconds, which is enough for Hyunjin to glance back down at you, pouting slightly.

Cute.

Without any more hesitation, you take him your mouth as far as you can. There’s no way for you to fit him all inside your mouth, but it’s more than enough for him to choke around his own fingers as he desperately tries to contain his noises and throws his head back. His legs are trembling now, back arched against the wall. You would give a lot to see him from another angle, because you’re sure he’s a sight right now.

Pictures, maybe. He might be into that. Hm, you’ll have to bring that up later.

For now, you focus on making the moment as pleasurable for him as possible. Pressure is growing stronger between your thighs too, and you've started teasing your clit, hips rocking as you get closer to your own orgasm.

Hyunjin whines, begs around his fingers, you think, but it’s when you feel him twitching in your head that you pull back. He blinks, eyes blurry, and gives you an adorable pout.

“W-why…?”

You push yourself up to kiss him briefly, swollen lips just absolutely irresistible to you. You know he doesn’t mind tasting himself on your lips, but you don’t drag the kiss on for too long. You’re reaching your limit as well.

“Do you want to come inside my mouth or my pussy, babe?”

Being given the choice when he’s already half fucked out means that Hyunjin hesitates, both options clearly appealing to him. You give a light, gentle squeeze to his cock as you pepper kisses down his jaw.

“C’mon, you have to give me an answer or I’ll just use my hand,” you grin against his skin.

“N-no,” he’s quick to reply, “your pussy, I want your, uh, your pussy.”

You chuckle, then wrap a leg around his waist. A strong hand grabs to your thigh for support, fingers digging pleasantly into the supple skin.

“Then go for it,” you hum, “I’m all ready for you.”

His cock presses against your wet folds, and Hyunjin whines. You take him in your hand, lining him against your entrance. As he pushes into you, slowly, to make sure you have the time to adjust yourself to him, you pull his head to yours, kissing him once more. You swallow all of the little noises he makes as he gets inside you, and that way you make sure any sound you make isn’t too loud. You usually have good control over yourself, but this position — with you standing up against the wall, one leg around Hyunjin — often has you weak.

Tonight, though, it seems that Hyunjin is the one who has a harder time controlling himself. Once he’s all inside you, the movement of his hips becomes erratic, and he buries his head in your neck, teeth worrying your skin in a surprisingly pleasant way, as his whines get more high-pitched and desperate.

You reach between your legs to rub at your clit. The stretch you feel is perfect, and even if Hyunjin fucks you sloppily, chasing his pleasure with irregular movements, the sight and the thought that you got him like that, that you are the only one who could ever get him like that are enough to get you to the edge.

“That’s it, Hyunjin,” you whisper in his ear, knowing you won’t last long now, “come for me, babe, all for me, show me that you’re mi—”

Hyunjin spills himself inside you with a final moan, and in those final moments you arch yourself into him, allowing the pleasure to blind you for some delicious seconds after being in control the whole time. You ride the orgasm on his cock, eyes closed, with one hand in his hair and the other holding on tightly to his shoulder.

As you come down from your high, you think he’ll be lucky if your nails don’t leave a mark.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin whispers in your neck, “fuck, I, that was—“

Yeah, you think he surprised even himself there, and you smile as you press soft kisses to his temple.

“You okay?”

“More than— More than okay, yeah.” Then he finally looks at you. The blush hasn’t subsided at all. If anything, it’s more present right now. “Was that— was that okay for you? I didn’t—”

Oh.

“I enjoyed myself very much,” you reply softly. “You were perfect, Hyunjin.”

“I’ll— make it up to you. I promise.”

“You have nothing to make up for,” you grin, “but I’m sure we can figure something out.”

He pulls out of you carefully. Now that he’s come, he’s much more attentive, hands on your hips so you don’t have to put too much weight on your legs just now, and now you’re the one whose breath catches in your throat. That look on his face, when he’s careful, considerate, gentle with you, that’s when you get weak for him. You don’t think he’s fully aware of that just yet, especially because you’re the one who leads in the bedroom more often than not.

You’ll show him, eventually. You’re not the best at demonstrations of affection, but you try. You can only hope he knows how much he matters to you.

“All good?” he asks you, and you can’t find anything to say at the way he looks at you then, so you pull him down for an urgent kiss — no lust, this time, just the absolute need to feel him against you. He smiles at you when you part, looking a little surprised.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you say. The other confession doesn’t make it past your lips, not tonight, but still Hyunjin softens, and you think — you hope — he knows.

“I wouldn’t ask for anyone else,” he replies.

Then someone bangs on the bathroom door, and the tenderness of the moment is broken.

“I’ll clean myself up,” you say with an eye-roll, “you can get out there. I’ll be here in a minute.”

Hyunjin licks his lips, then nods.

“Okay. I’ll see you.”

He kisses you, soft and sweet, completely unlike you, and then he’s out.

When you follow — it takes you a little more than a minute, and even then you can’t wait til you get home and take a shower — your eyes look for him instinctively.

Ha.

You’d almost feel bad for the girl who’s trying to get his attention, touching his arm and flirting with him, right after he’s come inside you. Normally, you’d let it slide once more. Hyunjin isn’t big on pda, tries to keep that part of his life more private, and you can’t say you care for it either. As a result, it’s pretty easy for people to be unaware that you’re a couple, particularly since you’re such a, er, unexpected one. The girl just doesn’t know.

But she kinda had it coming too.

You make your way to Hyunjin and casually slide your hand down his arm so you can intertwine your fingers with his. The look he throws you then is surprised — but it’s also delighted, and you reply with a smile.

“I’m thinking of heading home soon, babe, you’ll walk me back?”

The slow understanding on the girl’s face, the way her mouth drops open like it would in a comic book, and the flash of, you think, embarrassment in her eyes is fucking priceless. It would be enough to make you coming over worth it. Yet it’s nothing compared to the butterflies you get in your stomach when Hyunjin gives you the brightest smile — the one that makes his eyes almost close, the one you never see at this kind of parties.

“Sure.”

And if, later, he teases “since when do you call me babe outside of the bedroom?”, well… it’s still all more than worth it.

if you saw this being posted last night: no you didn’t ♥ basically i’m stuck at about a third of all the projects i’ve tried to work on lately, so I decided to write porn. i hope you enjoyed it, any feedback or reblogs would be greatly appreciated. thank you for reading this!

[limarieb]

when you're above feeling it still, tell me it's love (tell me it's real)

Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: You and Wanda have been dating for six months now, and it has been a constant feeling of bliss. When Wanda fails to acknowledge your anniversary, you feel quite heartbroken. Fortunately, your Sokovian barista of a girlfriend has an excellent reason for not showing up. (continuation of the "sweet" one-shot universe)

Warnings: none (a bit of angst, but then it's all fluff)

Word Count: 1.9k

Author's Note: thank you all for being patient! i have been in the process of completing an 8 day work week... so, it's not very fun, but at least i am able to post this now! p.s., requests are open! (send anything — it makes work more tolerable lol)

Main Masterlist | ao3 | Wattpad

Click here for Part 3 to the ‘Sweet’ One-shot Collection

...

Dating Wanda Maximoff has been nothing short of amazing; she has made the past six months considerably the best six months of your life.

Despite having little to no experience with people who were hearing impaired, she was able to quickly pick up on certain things with relative ease. She could easily read the meaning behind some of your body language and facial expressions: furrowed eyebrows meant you were confused, frustrated, or angry; clenched fists were a sign you were becoming (or already were) overstimulated and needed to be removed from the situation; or, Wanda’s personal favorite was your habit of taking her hand in yours and using your fingers to delicately play with the various rings that littered her own whenever you were anxious or simply wanted your girlfriend’s attention.

You initially were going to try wearing your hearing aids around her, but you both got used to you not wearing them — there was no point. You found little ways to communicate without any spoken language, ranging from little handwritten notes that Wanda leaves you (which you save all of them in a shoebox under your bed because you absolutely adore the heartwarming gesture) to simply typing in the notes app or on any electronic document for effortless methods of dialogue. Wanda was even able to pick up some signs here and there from spending so much time with you and your family. They were simple signs, such as ‘Hello’ , ‘How are you?’ , ‘Are you okay?’ , but — even so — you found it comforting that she would learn, remember, and utilize them when she could. Most people did not consider assuming the extra, albeit very little, effort.

She even developed and became a part of your ‘decompress’ routine. If you two were in a crowded space or a space you could not leave, she would take your hand and run a single digit down each of your fingers. Her finger would slowly and softly graze your own, grounding you within minutes. If you did have the opportunity to escape or be alone with her, she would wrap you in a tight hug from behind. Her arms would encircle your body around your ribs, and her legs would similarly trap your hips in place. Oftentimes, you both fell asleep during those moments; the comfort she brought you by wrapping you up tightly in her embrace, and the comfort you brought her simply by having you near was unbeatable.

Over the past month or two, you noticed some changes regarding Wanda. For instance, within the first month of you two being exclusive, you had her work schedule practically memorized like the back of your hand; thus, you found it odd when she would decline your request for dinner on account of “working late” later in the evening… when she wasn’t working.

Though you found it strange, you tried not to dwell on it. You didn’t want to come off as some jealous girlfriend stereotype and end up driving her away; at the same time, however, you cannot deny yourself that she was obviously keeping a secret from you. It hurt, but you wouldn’t say anything — at least, not yet.

The final straw came when you had planned a special evening for you two, given it was your six-month anniversary. You had never had a partner of any sort — you barely even had friends — so, this was something very special to you. You had waited for this date for weeks now, allocating every minute into perfecting the day for her. You were going to surprise her by making a romantic meal for dinner: paprikash (her favorite dish), candlelight, soft lights. You had prepared your bedroom for a marathon of her favorite sitcoms, which had taken you forever to find Dick van Dyke with accurate subtitles. And, if the night went well, then��

Unfortunately, you guess you’d never find out. She barely reached out to you that day, let alone come visit you for a date on your anniversary. It seemed as if she did not believe the day held the same weight as you, or she didn’t remember. Either way, it had you feeling down. You continued preparing the food and setting for the dinner whilst trying to remain calm, but your nerves were getting the better of you. You whip the phone out of your back pocket, thinking a quick text to her couldn’t hurt:

You [5:38 PM]

Hi, baby - free for dinner with me tonight?

Several moments pass before you get a response from her. As soon as you felt the vibration from your phone indicating a new message had come through, you practically jumped for it. Reading the message forced your slight smile into a frown.

Wanda <3 [6:03 PM]

Hi, Y/N… I don’t think I’ll be there in time :( I’ll come over after work, though? 8:30ish? Save me something good. ;)

While her flirtatious mannerisms — even over text messaging — would normally put you in a good mood, this text did the exact opposite…

Firstly, she barely calls you by your first name anymore. It was always some sickeningly sweet pet name like “baby,” “babe,” or “darling.”

Secondly, she didn’t even work today; she told you as much two weeks ago.

What was she hiding from you?

You couldn’t even muster up the energy to clean up the remnants of the failed dinner; instead, you elected to go upstairs to your room and sulk in a much-needed decompression session with your favorite knitted blanket — you try not to wish it was her helping decompress you.

Wanda waltzed into your home using the key you gave her for emergencies. The brunette hated lying to you, but she deemed it necessary, at least this once. 

She made her way past the kitchen and dining room, not without releasing an almost inaudible gasp about the sight before her: the empty dishes, the unlit candles, the food — her favorite food, because of course you would remember it and learn how to make it for her. She stepped on the worn floorboards with her toes, as if she were intruding on someone else’s special occasion; her eyes scanned her surroundings, but she failed to find you no matter where they viewed.

You had to have been there since your car was in the driveway, so Wanda decided to check upstairs next.

When she hesitantly opened your door, her gaze was met with your body laying on your bed. You were curled up in a ball facing away from her, wrapped up with the blanket. Unaware of her presence, you continued sniffling. The scene shattered Wanda’s heart into millions of pieces.

Deciding to finally let you know she was there, she went to kneel in front of where your head lay. Even when her absence is what caused your distress, it was her presence that currently brought you comfort. She tilted her head, which you recognized as her analyzing the situation before her. 

Before you could figure out a way to say anything, she lifted her left hand to hold the right side of your face. Instinctively, you pushed your cheek into her palm, seeking out as much of her comfort as possible. Then, she lifted her right hand. Instead of bringing it to you like with her left hand, she used it to sign:

Are you okay?

With that, your bottom lip trembled, and the dams holding all of the emotions relating to Wanda and her absence broke.

When you finally became calm enough to a point of reply, you simply stated with signs:

You weren’t here. Where were you?

You weren’t even sure if she’d completely understand, but she shockingly did:

I know. I’m sorry. I was working.

However, you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew she was lying, so you shook your head and rotated your body to face away from her. Initially, you wished to avoid any confrontation, but with her here now in such a sympathetic state conflicting with what you know… it’s all so confusing and frustrating .

Although, Wanda would not give up. You were visibly in a state of distress, relating to something she did. Pushing her own sentiments aside for the moment, she placed her left hand on your shoulder. It allowed you to know she was still there — still trying — before she grasped it in order to pull you back to your original position. 

What is wrong, Y/N?

You shook your head again. 

No work.

Wanda’s eyes widened a bit, a result of confusion and nervousness of what you meant by that. She returned the phrase as a question to you with furrowed eyebrows, attempting to show confusion — she had to clarify what you were trying to say.

“No work?”  

This time, you nodded shakily. 

I know you didn’t work today. You said.

At this point, Wanda couldn’t lie anymore — even if it meant ruining the surprise that she had planned for you herself. She had to come clean.

You are correct. I did not work today. 

Honestly, you did not expect her to admit to it as quickly as she did. You raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue: 

For the past two months, I have been taking classes with the local college here after work. Sign Language.

It was your turn for your eyes to widen in shock; your girlfriend had never spoken in sign language for more than a few basic phrases. Even though there were a few errors made on her part, your heart couldn’t help growing a few sizes at what was happening before your own eyes.

Y/N, I wanted the first time I said this to be in your language. I wanted to learn for you. It was a surprise for our anniversary. I know I am late tonight, and I’m sorry. Class ran late tonight, and-

As it turns out, Wanda rambles in English and sign language. It made you smile, but you needed to hear what she had to say. You cut off her rambles with a quick peck of your lips to hers. It was short but reflected the abundance of intimacy in your relationship. You pulled away while maintaining the small smile, gesturing for her to hurry up and get to the point of this speech.

She took a deep breath, releasing it with a slight grin that came from your lips touching hers.

Happy anniversary. I love you, Y/N.

And, just like that, it felt like your lungs stopped. You weren’t sure if you’d ever felt such a feeling — such an unconditional love — before in your life. Some lone tears began to escape your eyes again, but this time the love of your life was there to wipe them with her thumbs.

I love you, Wanda. Happy anniversary. I want to marry you one day. 

Wanda, still being a novice to portions of sign language, did not capture the last part of your love declaration:

What was the last thing you said?

You gave her a smirk as your only reply. Guess she’ll have to take more classes , you thought.

The brunette rolled her eyes. You knew you’d (figuratively) be in trouble when she learned the sign for ‘marry’; for now, you just wanted to lay in your bed with her, your love.

End.

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Do you have any thoughts on Astarion and Halsin going from like, metamours who aren’t especially close to lovers because I think there is a lot of potential for something really sweet there lol idk

I read, and am just realizing did the worst thing by closing the tab before kudos and commenting, and INCREDIBLE smutty, smutty fanfic about the very moment this begins happening for Astarion and Halsin.Its by @vixstarria and Vix, please do feel free to link it here, Iv'e lost it heh. It has a named Drow fem Tav in the middle of a very delightful and explicit Halsin/Astarion sandwich.

That being said, here are my thoughts!

Astarion states that he is okay with Halsin because the druid is special. How so? Well, Wood Elves are polyamorous by nature and Astarion seems well aware of how they function, and knows that Halsin has 350 years of experience with consent and communication. So they start off on a very... almost professionally amiable standing with one another. Its very obvious that they havent gotten to know each other well or bonded at all by the time that Tav begins the Hinge dynamic, but they they very soon begin to be in each others space simply via both wanting to be near/with Tav.

Halsin is intuitive, smart, careful, considerate, compassionate. At first, Astarion is going to find this annoying to an eye rolling degree. However, he would be surprised that all of his teasing is met with eye-twinkling humor from Halsin

Any harsh remarks roll off the druid like water on a ducks back, and Astarion finds himself effectively de-fanged (at least verbally) in fairly short order. He also fails at any attempt to remove /himself/ in sassy ways, as Halsin pre-empts any outburst and bows out of situations in favor of letting Astarion in.

With nothing to rail against, Astarion is given the space to simply adjust. In canon, he states that he enjoys watching the PC and Halsin kiss, referring to it as a show. Eventually, I believe Halsin would ask /Tav/ about broaching the subject of including Astarion in their bedroom dynamics.

Said bedroom dynamics would begin completely separate. When tav is with Halsin, Astarion makes himself scarce. Same vice versa. This cannot go on forever, nor does Tav want it to. It is Tav, most likely, that shows some distress or discomfort about Halsin and Astarions dynamic, probably wanting to bed share, cuddle puddle, etc.

Halsin is the one to bridge the gap. He uses animal form to do so, removing any sexual undertones from the situation by wild shaping and placing himself respectfully on one side of Tav. It may be many weeks of this, but Astarion, Tav, and Halsin would begin to bed share in this manner.

during the day, Tav begins to share more overt physical affection with Halsin and Astarion while they are in each others company, and tries to leave Halsin and Astarion alone together more often as well. Halsin would make himself very physically available- oppen posture, standing close, warm eyes. He had always said "and some day, his participation", which mans he was always interested in including Astarion should the vampire wish it.

He would offer his blood to Astarion well before they share any sort of intimacy together. I believe Astarion would dance around the topic for a little while, but not long. The intimacy of being in Halsins lap would give them both the opportunity to figure out if theres a spark of compatibility between them, but it wouldnt become sexual.

One day, Tav initiates kisses/sensual touching with Astarion while Halsin is wild-shaped and in bed with them. Astarion would comment on it, Halsin would likely make an overt display of calm detachment. Hes going to be there unless asked to leave, but Tav wants him to stay, and Astarion allows it.

Halsin is internally screaming and very horny about it, but manages to stay still because he knows this is a tenuous situation.

Astarion ALWAYS acts like its not a big deal. Its Tav and Halsin that are more careful

I firmly believe their first kiss would be Halsin very "embarassingly" (in astarions opinion) asking directly for one. "May I kiss you?" this would be /after/ Astarion has boned Tav in front of him, or at least been fairly intimate. Astarion would also probably directly ask to watch Halsin and Tav together before this as well

Honestly... I think they would be alone when Halsin asks. I think he would express direct interest in turning it into a triangle and not a hinge, I think he would be very clear and soft and careful and Astarion would roll his eyes but the kiss would be... chaste. slow, soft. No wandering hands on Halsins part. Astarion breaks the intimacy by grabbing two fist fulls of his ass and squeezing.

I think it would take a lot longer than people may assume, it would be very gentle and sweet and require a lot of pre-navigation, but I do believe that should the Halsin/Tav/Astarion hinge continue post game, they would become a triad.

[animeomegas]

How would Shikamaru and his alpha react to finding out he’s pregnant again? Like they planned on one or two and already have three and now pregnant with a fourth because their birth control keeps failing. Especially if people think Shikamaru is doing it on purpose because of his obsession.

I have a feeling that this isn't what you had in mind lol, but here we are XD

cw: abortion

"It's positive?" you asked as Shikamaru came out of the bathroom, looking exhausted.

"Yep," he said, collapsing down on the sofa next to you with his eyes closed. You heard the muffled sounds of some sort of children's toy activating as he sat on it, but you both ignored it.

"Again?"

"Yep."

"Damn," you let out a breath and sank back into the couch until you were fully reclining just like your mate.

You both sat in silence for a while as the information sank in. You already had three children, an eight-year-old daughter, and two sons, five and three respectively. Your eldest was the only one you had planned.

"What are we going to do?" you asked finally. "We can afford it money wise, but we're spread thin as it is, another baby would-"

"Stop talking," Shikamaru said firmly, stopping you in your tracks. He opened his eyes and heaved himself upright. "If you speak about it out loud, my obsession instinct might...it might..."

"It might trigger and get weird like last time," you finished in sudden realisation, remembering the way Shikamaru had switched over night from booking an abortion to being distraught at the thought and refusing to follow through. "It hasn't triggered yet?"

"No," Shikamaru said calmly. "So, I'm going to fetch a clan medic right now, just for a 'routine health check', of course. Nothing else."

He was planning to trick himself into denial long enough to have an abortion. You shouldn't be so surprised by how intelligent your mate was after all these years, but you still found yourself impressed by his quick thinking.

"Right," you agreed. "Do you need me to come with?"

"No, it's just a routine health check, there's no need," he said, calmly getting up from the sofa and walking to the door. You followed him out and watched him slip on his shoes.

Everything was moving quickly, but you felt like the quickly forming burden had just been lifted from your shoulders. You simply didn't have the time and energy to give to another pup, it wouldn't be fair on anyone.

"And after my health check," Shikamaru continued, opening the door. "I am booking an appointment to have all my problematic organs removed."

That made a lot of sense. You had already been sterilised once but the surgery had reversed itself, something you only realised when Shikamaru already had the positive test in his hand. If he simply didn't have the necessary requirements for a baby, there would be no more babies. And maybe, just maybe, you'd finally have a form of birth control that actually worked.

"I'll watch the pups, and I'll be here when you get back," you promised, trying to reassure him as best as you could without mentioning anything specific.

Shikamaru nodded, took one final deep breath, and then stepped outside, shutting the door gently to avoid waking the two youngest pups up from their naps.

You stood for a moment, processing everything that had just happened, before a wave of determination washed over you. Your mate was going through something difficult that he had to do alone, so you would do everything in your power to make sure he came home to a clean house, delicious dinner, hot bath, and a massage.

You rolled up your sleeves, energised and ready to make the most of the remaining 20 minutes of nap time. It was time to clean like you'd never cleaned before.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #49] Stooping

warnings: a wedding! how delightful! koo in a suit! delicious! our starluvrs subtly matching!! yummy! what an apt time for romance!! hayun >:( a wedding is no place to argue!! and yet..... lol. discussions of noses!! pda??? what is happening?!

notes: just one tonight bc tomorrow you get a lurveeely lil bunch of chapters <3

wc: 10K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Jeongguk has always been gentle: with you, with your feelings, with your body. This morning, he seems even more so, almost like he's cautious. 

In all reality, it's just gone six in the morning, and he knows he's waking you before you're fully rested. Feels bad. Is why he's brewing coffee in a French press in the kitchen, ready to wake you up a little. 

Quiet as can be, he's letting you hold onto those final moments – but when he glances over to his room, and finds you wrapped up in his duvet, leant against the doorframe, he knows he's failed.

"Sorry," he whispers. Offers a small smile that you reciprocate, eyes all blurry, face a little puffy. "Did I wake you?"

Shaking your head, you lie. "Think I'm just nervous about today."

"Why?" He grins as he begins to pour the coffee into iced cups – not quite your usual americano, but the closest he can get without leaving his apartment. Isn't dressed for it. Left his shirt in his room, along with everything else except for the Calvin's keeping him decent, and the glitter of yours dappled all over his skin. "It's not like you're the one getting married."

There's a sweetness to his voice, with no annoyance in his posture nor expression when you dump the duvet on the floor. The shirt he'd left in his room is now on your body, and Jeongguk marvels at the sight of you. Hair a little lopsided, your glitter is smudged all over your cheeks, making him smile. He'd picked you up after a shower yesterday, yet you're still covered in it.

"I don't know," you shrug, hopping up on one of the barstools opposite him. "Big day, isn't it?"

A cowlick of hair sticks up from his head, making him look like the sweetest sprout ever known. Cheeks full, his face is a little puffy, too. You both need water far more than you need coffee.

"How so?" He asks, as if he doesn't know.

"'Cause nobody knows you're obsessed with me yet."

Jeongguk's pretty sure they've known for months, now.

"More like you're obsessed with me."

"No," you hum, sitting up a little straighter. "To become obsessed is to lose yourself, and I am not a loser."

"Yeah, you are."

"Am not," you protest, but there's a tranquil smile on your lips.

It's impossible to lose with Jeongguk, you think. Impossible to have him and not consider it a win. A monumental win, at that. A win for yourself. For your heart. Against Hayun, too, but you're trying not to think about her.

Her message sits delivered in your otherwise unused chat feet. Part of you feels like Nabi had encouraged her to send it for the sake of Seoyeon, and while you don't want to be difficult, you also don't feel like peace needs to be made.

See, peace would indicate harmony. No ill feelings – but you know damn well if you have to greet Hayun with anything more than a smile and simple hello, you'll feel like an imposter in your own skin.

Small talk is reserved for the people you care about, not those who destroy people you care about. Doesn't matter how things currently stand. She was awful to your favourite person in the whole entire world. How she treated him just makes no sense to you in any way, shape, or form. He was born to be adored, you think.

You're no saint, and you've had your fair share of disagreements with Jeongguk, but all your arguments have been fundamentally human. Issues borne of miscommunications, or hurt feelings. Unintentional upsets.

What she put him through was cruel. Inhumane.

So no, you won't give her the time of day, and if anyone suggests you do, you'll simply smile and move the conversation along.

Jeongguk's nattering on about the wedding – how he's not sure how to do his hair, so you tell him that he should wear it pushed back.

"You think?" He contemplates, pulling at a strand just above his eyes. Tries his hardest to look up at it.

"Yeah," you nod, knowing that he's not really asking, as such. He wants to be told what to do. Doesn't want to make the decision himself, 'cause he's already a little anxious about the responsibility bestowed upon him as the ring bearer. "You always look really nice with it pushed back."

With a slightly bashful smile, Jeongguk nods. "Okay. Let's go get ready, B."

As Jeongguk's tyres crunch to a halt on the gravel of the driveway, you're a little bit blown away by the grounds of the venue you're in.

A chapel wedding never would have been Yoongi's taste. It's not his style. Likes tradition, hates establishments. He'd found a kindred spirit in Seoyeon; a love for the less than typical. A desire to do things a little bit differently.

A string of Joseon-style Hanok houses sits in acres of sprawling countryside. Though they're obviously newly built, the style is so perfectly in keeping with traditional architecture that you wouldn't be surprised to see the scene in a historical drama.

The oak timbers are varnished, but unpainted; golden beneath the mid-morning sunshine. Lush grasses and shrubbery paint the landscape in the most beautiful hues of green, with dragonflies flittering around in the long spikes. There's a pond nearby, you're certain.

"This place is gorgeous," you say quietly, amazed you haven't ever come across it before – but why would you? Marriage has hardly been near the top of your to-do list, and checking out wedding venues for sport was abandoned the first time Seokjin cheated on you. It hasn't been indulged in since then.

Something about being here, Jeongguk beside you, makes you curious. Maybe there are new places that have opened up.

Seokjin had always been keen on a church wedding whenever you spoke about hypotheticals.

You've never wanted a church wedding.

You wonder what Jeongguk would want; if he'd even want one at all.

"It sure is something," he agrees, as he twists his keys off in the ignition but makes no attempt to get out of the car. "This is just where we're sleeping. There's a pagoda a little further along where the ceremony is happening."

You nod, unsurprised. These are just little dwellings, no matter how beautiful they are. You're sure the pagoda will be far more befitting of a wedding ceremony.

Silence fills the car as the radio cuts out, Jeongguk pulling the keys from the ignition. Neither of you care to fill the space. You're too fixated on the view in front of you.

Jeongguk's distracted too, but not by the view, no matter how pretty it may be.

A hundred and one thoughts run through his mind, but the one he can't seem to shake is how on earth he's gonna survive the day in a state of 'just friends' with you.

Of course, he'll be able to do it. Has done it for months – but fuck, all he wants to do in your presence is hold your hand. Steal kisses. Do things no one would question, if they knew you were together.

But you're still, on a technicality, not.

He's supposed to be sharing a room with Jimin tonight. When the place had been booked, it still hadn't been decided if you'd be sharing with Danbi, but as the months passed, it was blatantly obvious she'd be sharing with Tae.

But Tae was supposed to be with Namjoon, which left two options: either you or Namjoon should stay with Hoseok. At the time, the sensible choice was you should room with Hoseok. That's how the plans had transpired, and are the intended sleeping arrangements for the evening.

And it's been driving Jeongguk mad.

He likes Hoseok. Likes him a lot. Doesn't know him well enough to know that he's mildly repulsed by the idea of ever being intimate with you, because unlike Jeongguk, his boundaries as a friend stop short of sexual attraction. Like a normal friendship should.

He'd rather you weren't rooming with Hoseok, but he's hardly gonna cause an issue out of it.

What he is gonna do, however, is have periodic tantrums about it throughout the day's events. Nothing super obvious. Just a slight pout of his lips, or a furrow of his brows when he thinks about it occasionally.

Much like he is now, when you ask, "Do you know which room is assigned to who?"

"Names are on the doors," he simply says, knowing that's how Seoyeon intended to arrange it.

He thinks he's subtle in his mard. Thinks you're none the wiser. Believes he's good at hiding how he feels about it all.

Or at least he does, until you start laughing, "It's one night, Gguk. You can survive without me for a night."

"No, I don't actually think I can," he replies without missing a beat, decidedly needy in his lack of denial. "In fact, I think I might-"

"You're not gonna die," you smile, reaching across for his hand. He doesn't resist as you pull his knuckles to your lips, pressing a pretty little kiss upon them, then lowering them to your lap. Your clasp is warm. Welcome. Just like home. "It's just a night-"

"Just a night," he echoes, before arguing against you. "Just a night where you're gonna look all fancy and nice and I'm gonna have to know another man is taking you to bed-"

"He's not taking me to bed!"

"Well, then he's a fool."

"Shut up," you laugh, squeezing his hand a little tighter. "Hey, look at me." He doesn't. "Gguk, please."

As much as he wants to stay stroppy, he just can't say no to you. Glances in your direction. Finds his tense posture easing as he takes you in. Chocolate brown, his eyes are so dark you half think they'll swallow you up entirely.

"What?" he pouts.

"You'll survive the night," you assure him. "And Hobes has, like, the biggest crush on Joon."

This is not news to Jeongguk. He has eyes, and has spent time in the presence of them both. Is pretty sure that the crush is mutual. In fact, he's sure of it. Has never known Namjoon with a crush, but he's pretty sure that the way he gets a little tongue-tied around Hoseok is prime example of what it would look like.

"Well then why don't they share?" Jeongguk frowns. He really is petulant when he wants to be.

"'Cause they're normal," you grin. "They have a crush, and they're still pussy-footing around it. They're not like us."

His frown intensifies. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"The birds," you simply state. "Gguk, we were combating intimacy from the get-go. Breaking down barriers. Hobes and Joon will be taking things at a normal pace. If they're into each other, sharing a room will be a big step."

Foolishly, you didn't think Jeongguk's frown could get any deeper.

It does.

It's not because he disagrees with you, not at all. It's just that he wonders if you've fucked it; if you've ruined the sanctity of the early stages of a relationship. You'll never get those special 'firsts' with him. Never have those giggly, girly debriefs with Danbi after sleeping over Jeongguk's for the first time. Won't remember the date of your first kiss (even if it was the early hours of New Years Day, and impossible for you to ever forget).

He knows that staying in the same room isn't a big deal for you two. Knows that sharing a bed is like breathing at this point. Loves the comfort that comes with being with you. Hates that perhaps you don't get that wave of excitement from it because of it being so familiar.

And so he nods. Accepts your words, and decides that maybe sleeping apart will be good for you. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that.

"You're right," he relents. Eases his frown lines as his head tilts back against the headrest. Lazily looking over at you, he squeezes your hand, now. Whispers, "I'll miss you."

He'd probably feel a lot better about it all if he knew that such a simple statement did, in fact, get butterflies swarming in your stomach. There's a sparkle in your eye as you whisper back, "I'll miss you too, Koo."

He grins now. With heavily-lidded eyes and a smirk that screams fuck me, he husks, "Don't call me that, B. You know what it does to me."

"Do I?" You banter back. Flutter your lashes like the dragonflies dancing outside Jeongguk's car. "What does it do, Koo?"

"B," he warns with a smile. "Don't."

"Don't what?" The hand of his that's being held in your lap is lifted. Repositioned; palm opened, then closed down on your chest. Encouraged to squeeze. Held in place by your own hand. He groans. Lets you dictate his movements – of which you very much do.

"Byeol," he whispers, now. "You'll kill me."

"I give you a reason to live," you flirt, because seeing him like this always gets you a little bolder. "No one else is gonna be here for another hour, yet."

"So?"

"So I know you cum in like 5 seconds flat-"

"Not true."

"-whenever you're touching with my tits."

"We-" he pulls his hand from your grasp and places your hands in your lap. Holds them there. "-Are on a shagging ban."

"But it's a special occasion."

Realistically, you're not vying for a shag. In fact, you'd be quite surprised if you were to end up in bed with Jeongguk at all, today. You're just teasing him. Winding him up because you can. Because you want to. Because it's important that he knows just how much you enjoy him in all capacities.

"You're a menace," he tells you. "A randy little gremlin."

"You love it," you tell him, voice playful.

He doesn't respond. Just gives you a look, that you interpret to mean, of course I fuckin' do.

"C'mon," he eventually sighs, regretful of the fact he has to spend time with people other than you. "Let's get our bags sorted, then you can get ready. I'll go find Yoongs."

There's an effortless nature to the way Jeongguk takes the lead; how diligent he is at getting from A to B. You know it's thanks to his job, and his studies, and the way he's gonna spend the rest of his career organising people and events, but something about it makes your tummy feel all fuzzy.

He's as dependable as the changing seasons; guaranteed. Competent, in the way he takes command of situations. It's not a trait you ever realised you valued until you met him. Had always been the driving force in your relationships. The one with the get-up-and-go attitude. It's nice to let your brain rest when you're with him.

You know his brain is probably going a mile a minute, but you also know that he somehow prefers to live like that.

And while it's true – he needs to be kept busy to keep himself from going insane – he does revel in the way you make him forget his stuggles. Nothing is ever too much trouble when you're within touching distance of him.

By the time you meet him at the rear of his car, Jeongguk has already swung his rucksack over his shoulder and is reaching for your mini-suitcase. Taps your hand away as you try to intercept. Nods towards the garment bags on the backseat, instead.

"Can you grab them?" He asks, voice soft, his lack of verbalised 'please' made up for with his puppy dog eyes.

"Sure."

He would have gotten them himself, but he knows you'd have insisted on doing something. This way, he does the heavy living, and you don't complain. A win-win.

Chatter comes naturally between you both as you make your way up the wavy stone path to the hanok. Set in a horseshoe formation, there's a small water feature in the centre, trickling ever so peacefully.

You're looking at your feet, avoiding the cracks, when you accidentally walk straight into Jeongguk.

"Steady on," he smirks, glancing over his shoulder.

"You don't stop in the middle of the road! Basic highway code," you tell him, certain that it's a universal rule of all roads.

"Okay firstly, this isn't a road-"

"The Romans would disagree."

"The Romans didn't know shit about Korea," Jeongguk laughs. While you know he's correct, you're a little curious as to what other trinkets of knowledge he's got hidden up inside that brain of his. He doesn't strike you as a history buff, but he also didn't strike you as a chess player, either. "But secondly, I was trying to figure something out."

Coming to stand beside him, you follow his line of vision. Tilt your head. Realise exactly what he's looking at: Your names, on the doors of the rooms next to one another. Close, but not close enough for his liking.

"Could always just switch them," he suggests. "Be together."

"Together?" You chirp, as if it's a foreign concept. Play up the idea that maybe it is. "Why would we be together?"

Jeongguk looks down towards you. Smiles. Gives you no verbal response, but you don't really need him to. Is so curiously smitten with your need to downplay how much you mean to one another. He presses a kiss to the side of your head, then heads towards the designated room. Calls back, "So are we still pretending like we're not together?"

"We aren't together," you assure him, smile as wide as the sky is blue. "You haven't asked me yet."

Turning as he reaches the door, his smile makes his lip ring do the thing . "It's a group activity, B. You could always ask me."

He's got a point. You're just as responsible as he is. It's sort of like you're both playing a game of chicken; edging one another closer and closer to the point of no return. Truth be told, in some sadistic, twisted kinda way, you enjoy this back and forth. The certain uncertainty.

It's an inevitable fact of life, at this point. You will be official - but you're both secure in that knowledge and enjoy toying in this slight state of limbo. Makes it fun. Exciting. Dangerous, yet entirely safe.

"Anyway," Jeongguk derails the conversation. Pops your bags by the door of your room, and leaves his door ajar for you to put his suit inside. Pats his pocket to make sure the ring boxes are still there. They are. "You get yourself ready. I'm gonna head over to where Yoongi's staying. Check in with him, make sure everything's okay."

"How far away is it?" You ask, really not knowing much about the site.

"Ten minute walk," Jeongguk says. "Two minute drive, if that. Follow the road we came in on round a little further, and there's another hanok like this, which is where their families are staying," he explains. "The ceremony pavilion is a little beyond that, by the pond, and I'm pretty sure it's where the reception is, too. Can't tell you where the wedding suite is, 'cause I haven't asked, but like... I don't think any of us need to know."

You nod, and let out a soft laugh. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Families and close friends have a place to stay by the reception, but other guests will be staying in the neighbouring village. The sprawling countryside is gorgeous, and lends itself perfectly to the tranquillity of a wedding, but the location is a bit of a pain in the arse to get to. Takes a little commitment. Is perfectly apt for a celebration of Seoyeon and Yoongi's courtship.

Jeongguk leaves you to get ready, but only after he's made sure to kiss you half a dozen times. Knows he won't get the luxury later, so makes the most of it while he still can. Smiles as his lips press down into yours. Giggles, 'cause he can't articulate the way he feels. Tells you to fuck off when you smile at him as he walks away. Walks backwards so that he doesn't have to stop looking at you. Shakes his head, grin as bright as a burning star when you tell him to fuck off, himself.

He thinks about saying he loves you.

Bites down on his bottom lip instead. Presses a kiss to the tips of his fingers and sends it your way as he finally turns around. Leaves you with an aching heart. It's so full that it's weighing down on your ribs in a way you're not used to - and yet you'll take the strain. Like it, even. Never want to lose it.

The rest of your friends slowly begin to trickle in. All arriving within the hour, they're early, too. Are excited for the celebrations.

The room you and Hoseok are in is as you'd expected: pale walls, natural wood, floor mats instead of beds. Traditional internally, just like it is externally, there are no big frills or grand statements.

And there needn't be, for Hoseoks personality fills it with such warmth and colour that it's all you need.

"Oh," he grits his teeth when he sees the dress that you're wearing. "You need to get changed. We can't wear the same dress."

Rolling your eyes, you swat him out of the way of the mirror. He's already in the fitted suit he's wearing, though if anyone else could pull this dress off, then it's Hoseok.

Simple in its structure, the satin sage green dress hits the floor perfectly in line with your heels. A split runs up to your thigh, but it's mostly obscured. The cowl neckline paired with dainty bows on the tops of your shoulders makes it the perfect understated wedding guest dress - pretty, but not asking for too much attention.

A second dress remains in the garment bag, far flashier - sparkly - but upon seeing the location, you want to remain stripped back. Glitter still prevails on your skin like it always does, and your eyes rival the disco balls that you know will be present at the reception, but you have a feeling you'll look a lot more cohesive in photos like this.

After all, this is Seoyeon's day, and she has very specific colours in mind, so you know it must be important. Both dresses got her approval when you'd asked last week, but it's a head vs. heart decision. You'll save the sparkly one for another time.

"Y'know, you clean up well, Hobes," you tell your friend as you smooth the front of your dress down.

"You say that like it's a surprise."

Glancing to meet his cheeky smile in the mirror, you're quietly pleased to have him here with you. Despite how much you genuinely enjoy the company of everyone here (well, nearly everyone), without Danbi and Hoseok, parties are never as much fun. They're your people, you think. Always will be.

But when you think of it, so are the rest of them.

Perhaps none more so than the boy knocking at your door ten minutes before you're supposed to head up towards the ceremony.

"I was just about to head out," Hoseok subtly smiles, realising who it must be. "See you in a bit."

You bid him farewell, then refocus on the mirror in a feeble attempt to look unaffected by Jeongguk's presence as Hoseok welcomes him in. Left alone, Jeongguk tucks inside the door. Shuts it, but doesn't lock it. Just leans against it with his suited shoulder. Wants to break the silence, but struggles to find the words.

There's a silence to the room as he drinks you in; the way the satin of your dress rests against a body he knows better than his own at this point. No words can convey the 90's television static that's sounding in his head right now. Nothing could articulate the way it feels like his heart is melting like butter beneath his ribs; how he feels like he might just die from the sight of you alone.

Turning to face him, you're still preening yourself, obviously a little unsure. Ask, "Watcha think?"

If Jeongguk could think straight, he'd say you're the most gorgeous woman alive.

But he can't, 'cause he's utterly consumed. Says instead, "You'll get told off."

"Told off?" you frown, then worry that someone else is wearing the same dress.

He nods, unaware of your thought process. "The bride is supposed to be the prettiest person at a wedding."

Something about compliments like this from Jeongguk - a little mindless, and feral in his own, sweet way - makes your tummy feel all funny. There's not enough room in the bodice for butterflies, so you roll your eyes. Try to remain composed.

"She is going to be the prettiest person at the wedding," you assure him, then hold your hands out for him to join you in the middle of the room. It takes a second, but he eventually complies. Of course he does. Will do anything you ask of him.

The light brown of his tweed suit looks almost grey. Lends itself perfectly to accents of deep teal and sage alike. Was a strategic choice. Didn't know what colour you'd be wearing, but knew he wanted to look good beside you.

He's without a tie - you knew he would be, thanks to what little he did share with you about his outfit choice - and a few of his upper buttons are loose. The silver of his usual chain sits prettily on his collar bones, hair pushed back, just like you told him to style it.

Hands in yours, Jeongguk takes in the sight of you. Is so pleased to see the dainty silver bird when it usually is.

"You look great," you tell him, 'cause it's important he knows. You never would have chosen the colour of suit he's gone for, but it looks absolutely divine on him. In fact, you're quite pleased you left him to his own styling devices. Rarely ever think his outfit choices are rogue, so you're really not surprised - but you did bring something for him just in case.

Pulling away from his grasp, you reach into the garment bag, and slip a small offcut of fabric from the bottom of your dress that had been saved when you'd have alternations made. Sewn perfectly into the shape of a pocket square, you say nothing as you pull out the white fabric in his breast pocket.

Without interruption, Jeongguk lets you. Watches your hands as you neatly arrange the pocket square. Likes the way the fabric compliments his suit. Loves it, in fact. Would love it even more if he noticed the tiny embroidered star on the material that you've hidden towards the bottom of his pocket. Matching the fabric's colour, the thread is so subtle that you have to know it's there to clock it. A secret declaration: I'm yours.

"Green suits you," Jeongguk eventually says. Gently pushes your hair back over your shoulders. Cups your jaw. Kisses you just as softly as he compliments you.

"Suits you, too," you tell him right back.

"Ready to pretend like we aren't dating for a few hours?" He smirks, knowing you'll find this just as hard as he is.

There's something about his phrasing - the acknowledgement that you are dating - that has you shaking your head. Smiling, like the cat who got the cream. "Not in the slightest."

And there really is no need. Everyone knows. The only people you're deluding are yourselves.

But as you give yourselves one final glance in the mirror, and Jeongguk slaps your ass before he leaves, you're quite content in this denial. Like the bubble that you're living in. Don't want it to burst. Not yet.

You're relieved as you join your group of friends by the water feature, finally seeing what everyone's wearing. It's the reason you had two outfits. Was afraid to clash.

Danbi is in teal - a strapless, figure-hugging number that looks outrageously good on her.

Like you, Nabi is in sage. A little darker in its tone, her dress is far more structured, finishing midway down her calves. You'd be forgiven for thinking she belonged on a runway; enviably tall and impossibly beautiful.

Hayun is the last to join the group, uncharacteristically smiley. Unlike the rest of you, she's opted for a well-tailored pantsuit situation. Deep teal, she looks just as good as she always does, red lips accenting her choice perfectly. One thing is for certain: the photos of everyone together are going to look great.

The men are in classic suits, with little variation. Jeongguk's is the most adventurous by far, and it makes you a little sad you hadn't done anything 'extra'. Kind of resent the fact Hayun's chosen something unique, but have to remind yourself it isn't a competition.

Walking down the twisty gravel road to the pavilion, arm linked with Danbi's, there's a whimsical feel in the air. Giddy happiness. You get to witness true love do its thing right in front of your very eyes, and that is a blessing, you decide.

As you turn the corner, there's a collective silence.

Brilliantly beautiful, the ancient-style pavilion is breathtaking against the backdrop of lush spring mountains. Though cherry blossom season is over, some of the trees are still blossoming; white magnolia accenting the green in the most gorgeous of ways.

Unpainted, the pavilion boasts the natural colour of its timbers, much like the hanoks, and as you spot Yoongi nervously waiting at the end of the aisle, you can't help but smile. There's a strength that comes with pavillions like these, despite their beauty. No place is more apt for them to say their vows.

Though his face lights up when he spots you all approaching, it's not enough to shake the nerves. It's not as if he's got any doubts, nor is he worried about Seoyeon having cold feet. It's just wedding jitters.

As the boys greet him with handshakes, there's a formality between them all that has never existed before. Tearful eyes, tightly shut lips. Smiles, and stuttered laughter. It's all very endearing.

Jeongguk takes a seat on the front row beside Yoongi's family. Needs to be close for his ever-so-important ring-bearing duty. You watch on from the row behind, unable to look at anything other than the back of his head.

For all the beauty of the landscape, and the gorgeous venue, he's still the most breathtaking thing about this place.

Or at least he is, until the pianist begins to play the opening notes of something you don't initially recognise. It's not a traditional choice, but then again not much about Yoongi and Seoyeon's nuptials are. It's around the time you register that it's a rendition of Etta James' At Last that Seoyeon finally comes into view.

A vision in a champagne-coloured tulle dream of a dress, she's every bit the girl of Yoongi's dreams. Whimsical and winsome, she captivates in a way that only she can. Hair loose, her usual plaits remain scattered throughout her dark waves, to match the single plait in Yoongi’s hair. There's something slightly eccentric about Seoyeon, and yet she's entirely down to earth.

Her deep, dark eyes are a little glassy, focused on her husband-to-be. Trying his best not to cry, Yoongi is almost annoyed at himself for being so emotional - but how could he not be?

Breaking tradition once more, Seoyeon's sister, Seobi, walks her down the aisle, much like Yoongi's older brother is his only groomsman. After all, this day is about them, and them alone. They've got everyone they care about watching on, and that's enough. When it comes to the actual wedding, they only want to focus on one another.

As you watch on, you think they made the right choice. There's something incredibly special about how Yoongi and Seoyeon look at one another. A reverence you don't see too often. One that keeps you glancing to the back of Jeongguk's head.

He fidgets, you notice. Gets restless.

You're unaware it's because it's taking everything in him not to turn around and steal a glance in your direction. Doesn't know how to be near you without being close to you. Hates it. Wishes you were by his side.

And yet when the time comes for Jeongguk to pass over the rings, he's smooth. Calm. Collected. Everything he needs to be and more. Doesn't drop them, which is what you'd been fearing more than anything.

A wave of relief flushes over you as he takes his seat once more, his job done.

God, how you wish you were beside him so that you could give his hand a little squeeze. Nothing noticeable. Just a silent well done. Pride; shown in private, but not in secret.

Instead, you're forced to sit with an uncomfortable longing in your chest. A need to be closer to him. It's not a new feeling, per se, but it's definitely one that isn't usually as intense as it is right now. Something's changed.

The feeling is washed away with a roar of congratulations as the newly minted Min's share their first kiss as a wedded couple. Soft, serene smiles are plastered all over their faces from the pandemonium, but the kiss perseveres. It's the first of a lifetime, so they're gonna make it count.

When they finally pull away for air, Seoyeon's hand is raised into the air, Yoongi's hand hooked behind her back as she cheers in pure delight. They really are the perfect tale of compromise, struggle, and fruition. A romance that has endured. 

It's been an honour to witness it - and as Jeongguk silently walks beside you to the reception, you can't help but be glad you're experiencing it with him.

Tables arranged in seating groups of six, you're pleased to find yourself sitting with Danbi. You've been assigned one of the top tables, with Seoyeon's sister and her other half, Dokyeom. Naturally, the remaining spaces go to Jeongguk and Taehyung.

Every bit as ethereal as Seoyeon, Seobi is a little more put together than her sister. She's got the height in her family, and a slightly better poise, but also has a look about her that lets you know she's just as much fun as Seoyeon.

Dokyeom looks like he's been copied and pasted out of the pages of an Italian fashion magazine documenting Milan Fashion Week. With a sharp nose, and just as strong jawline, you're surprised by how much he softens when he smiles - and given that he smiles almost every single time Seobi speaks, it's like having sunshine bottled up and put on your table. He even gives Hoseok a run for his money (but you'll never tell him that).

"So," Seobi says over wine between courses at dinner. Has been ever so chatty and curious about both you and Danbi. Though you're new to her, you're clearly important to Seoyeon - after all, the wedding party isn't that massive. Just their nearest and dearest. She glances towards Jeongguk, who's currently embroiled in some hot topic with Dokyeom. "How long have you guys been together?"

What a great question , you think to yourself, trying not to let the panic on your face show - but your pause sort of gives it away. You glance over to Jeongguk now. It's quick, but not quick enough for Seobi not to notice.

"Oh, unless, you're not?" She laughs a little.

You grit your teeth a little bashfully, then say, "Let me confer quickly."

Squeezing Jeongguk's arm, he's instantly pulled away from the conversation he's in. Hastily apologises to Dokyeom, then looks towards you.

"Yeah?"

And it's probably just because you're tipsy and this is all so stupid, but you find yourself absolutely enamoured. Grin, as you ask, "How long have we been together?"

Jeongguk pauses. The chatter around you both fades into silence. There's no one else in the room, as far as he's concerned. A smirk lingers on his lips. "Together?"

"Mhmm," you say quietly. "Seobi asked."

He turns now, the room chatter quickly clattering back into his ears. With a small smile on his lips, Jeongguk says to Seobi, "Like, a year. She's been playing hard to get, though."

With that, he dips. Rejoins his conversation. Leaves you with an incredulous look of bewilderment on your face.

"That's a long time to play hard to get, girl," Seobi laughs - but she also knows Jeongguk reasonably well by now. Was around during the Hayun days. Is pretty sure Jeongguk exclusively goes for girls who won't give him an easy win. "I'm impressed."

You know you could deny it. Could say he's making up. That you aren't together.

But it's a nice reality to think he's been yours for that long.

Deflecting the conversation back to her, you get the details on her and Dokyeom; how she actually met him through Jeongguk, and how they've known each other for years. Tells you about their awkward limbo between friendship and relationship, and how it's the best leap of faith she's ever made.

"Didn't believe him at first," she admits. Sips on her wine, and says, "Thought the idiot kept getting his heartbroken, but turned out the girls he was dating kept asking him to choose between me and them."

"And he always chose you?"

She nods. Looks smug, but incredibly sweet about it. Is just proud of the man she gets to call hers. "And he always chose me. He just never told me. Thought I'd figure it out."

It's sort of a blessing to hear that not everyone has the fairytale coming together like Yoongi and Seoyeon, or the slightly less romantic but still incredibly straightforward coupling of Taehyung and Danbi. That maybe your history with Jeongguk will be the making of you, not the downfall.

You almost choke on your wine when Seobi follows up with, "The she-devil given you any grief over it?"

It's now that you realise the most stark difference between Seoyeon and Seobi: their temperaments. While Seoyeon is a peacekeeper, Seobi has no time to entertain people she deems a threat to those she cares about. Knows of Hayun doing one too many shady shenanigans in the past to think that she's good for anything other than drama.

"Given that you don't need me to mention her by name, I'll take that as a yes," Seobi smiles, reading your expression perfectly. Rolls her eyes.

"It's not been so bad," you downplay the gravity of her impact.

"She told Dokyeom he could do better than me, once," she says, the taste of the words bitter in her mouth. Glares ever so briefly in the direction of Hayun's table. "Trust me, I know she's a cow."

"Why on earth would she do that?!" You almost gasp. It's one thing feeling possessive over Jeongguk, but another guy? Who she'd have known was friends with Jeongguk? Seems unreasonable.

"His nose," she says, deadly serious. So serious in fact, that you can't help but laugh - and then so does she. "It's true! She always goes for guys with great noses. I can't fault her. Jeongguk's ain't half bad, but it's got nothing on Dokyeom's."

"I'd beg to differ," you grin, appreciative of Dokyeom's nose, but thinking it can't compare. That's the thing though - of course you're enamoured with Jeongguk's nose just as much as she is with Dokyeom's. Goes with the territory.

"Well, you would," she grins right back. "But that's the thing, you actually give a shit about him. She was just a selfish bint looking for the next good nose."

Beneath the table, you reach out. Both of Jeongguk's elbows are on the table, hands out of the way, so you gently stroke his thigh. Just want to let him know that you're there, and that you do care. Not just about how unbearably sexy that nose of his is, but all of him.

Silently, still engrossed in his conversation, Jeongguk brings one of his hands down. Tucks it beneath the table. Finds yours. Interlocks your fingers together.

Pouting as she observes you both, Seobi is glad Jeongguk has you.

"Look after him," she muses quietly. "Him and his nose."

The night's celebrations proceed exactly as you expect them to; a myriad of champagne and confetti.

You all drink far too much, and dance a little too hard. Hayun is avoided for the most part, but not ignored entirely. You smile during conversations that involve her. Seoyeon is a girlie of peace, so you'll give her exactly that for her special day.

The only downside to a wedding is that the happy couple has to spend so much time entertaining other people. Seoyeon and Yoongi seem to have to constantly greet guests or say goodbye to older family members instead of revelling in one another's company.

In fact, the first time they truly do get a moment alone is when Seoyeon goes to change out of her wedding dress into an evening gown. Takes Yoongi with her, understandably.

Bouquet left on the table, the girls sit around a giggle, all incredibly wine-drunk. Gossiping and enthusing over little stories, there's an ease to it all - even if you are across the table from Hayun.

The boys are busy out on the front lawn. Yoongi had tossed Jeongguk the rest of his wedding cigars as he'd headed up to the bridal suite with Seoyeon. Felt like a shame to waste them. Also suggested that Yoongi wanted something to keep the boys entertained, knowing he'd be gone for a little while.

Toying with the ribbon around the stems of Seoyeon's baby's breath bouquet, Seobi muses, "I wonder which one of us will be next?"

It's her and Dokyeom, guaranteed. You only met them a matter of hours ago, but it seems like the only logical conclusion to draw. Taehyung and Danbi are nowhere near that point yet, and you and Jeongguk are still cosplaying as besties.

"Well if it's not you and Dokyeom," Hayun says a little absent-mindedly, as if she's forgotten whose company she's in. "Then it'll be me and Gguk. We've got that dumb pact of ours to see through."

She laughs, but she's the only one.

Everyone else just kind of looks at you.

"What?" she grins, but doesn't look in your direction. Shrugs, with such carelessness that you know she must be looking to get a rise out of you. There's no reason she'd open herself up for embarrassment like this if she didn't think she could embarrass you even more. Though red might be her colour, she doesn't like to be red in the face. "A pact's a pact, and we're both single. He's always been a man of his word, so why wouldn't he make an honest woman-"

"Yun," Nabi interrupts. Is stern. Looks at her friend, willing her to just keep her mouth shut. Knows that even if you and Jeongguk aren't specifically official, that you aren't exactly single, either. Very much the opposite.

Instead of listening to her, Hayun seems to find this all hilarious. "We could literally do it tomorrow." Her eyes seem so nostalgic that you almost feel bad. "Y'know, we made a cake once. Froze it. Said we'd use it-"

"Seriously, Yun."

"-if we ever got married. It's probably still there in the back of his free-."

"It's not," you finally interrupt. Honestly have no idea if it is in his freeze or not. Fabricate a story, just because you can't bear the thought of her knowing the intricacies of his home better than you do. "Gguk cleared it out ages ago so he could freeze Jimin's pens into an ice block. Said it was nothing special when he tossed it in the bin. Had terrible freezer burn. Clearly didn't care about preserving it. Sorry."

It's entirely plausible, you think, for Jeongguk to do such a thing to Jimin. Wouldn't be surprised if it is the kind of prank played in their apartment.

But just like you have no idea if her claims are legitimate, Hayun has no idea if you're telling the truth or not.

She shrugs. Looks directly at you, now. Smiles. Says, "Maybe he'll pick you as his Best Woman, given how close you guys are."

Hayun is playing entirely dumb to the fact she knows Jeongguk is head over heels for you. Wants to reduce you to nothing more than what you pretend to be: friends .

Part of you wonders if she's baiting you out. Trying to get you to admit it, that you and Jeongguk have been far more than just friends for a while.

The rest of you thinks she's just doing it to upset you.

Absolutely no part of you thinks she's delusional enough to actually believe what she's saying.

"Yeah, maybe," you smile, deciding not to rise to her. Glance over to Nabi. "You'll be maid of honour, right?"

She says nothing, because while yes, she will be Hayun's maid of honour when the time comes, she absolutely knows for certain that it won't be during a marriage between Hayun and Jeongguk, of all people.

"As seriously as I'll take the role of Best Woman, I'm afraid I have to tell you that I won't seduce you," you pout in Nabi's direction, making fun of the best man and maid of honour stereotype. It's not that Nabi isn't gorgeous, or undeserving of someone fawning over her - it's just that you're being petty and want to hit Hayun where it hurts with what you say next. "I mean, I can't fuck the maid of honour and the groom. That'd just be messy."

There's a couple of gasps, and some chortled laughs. Danbi curses, completely taken off guard by the fact you've just openly admitted to fucking Jeongguk.

Realistically, she knows it's more than just fucking. Knows you'll do anything for him. Knows that all of this is just a rouse to wind Hayun up.

"It'll be really cool of you to let me be the Best Woman, though," you insist, focusing back on Hayun, now. "Most girls don't like their partners being friends with exes, let alone invite them to their wedding! Such cool girlie energy from you, Yunnie ."

You're deliberately being patronising and you don't care. She started it. The only people left at the venue are your friends, so there's no worry about a public fall out, even if it is becoming more uncomfortable.

"We all know he only has exes because he couldn't have me," she shrugs, as if she actually believes that. "It's no threat."

You know she means to say ' you're no threat. '

You also know that would be a lie.

"It wasn't meant to be," you smile, just as good at playing faux-friendly as she is. "But he could totally have you, now, with the way you keep throwing yourself on him - yet he couldn't want you less, even if he tried. Funny, that."

A child-like fury sets into Hayun's features. There's no way she's winning this - but you don't exactly want to keep it up, either.

Pushing your chair back, you get to your feet, and smile. Excuse yourself. Head outside to where the scent of cigar smoke lingers in the cool early summer air.

With the changing seasons come the promise of something new. Something unprecedented. You'll never get the days ahead of you ever again. You'll rip them away like numbers in a raffle book, and toss them into a bin. Occasionally you'll get a winner - and when you spot Jeongguk laughing about something, stubbing out his cigar as soon as he sees you appear, you can't help but think this is one of those occasions.

"Hey," you grab his attention, squeezing his arm. "Just gonna run over to the rooms quickly. Want a jacket."

A little vacant in his registering of your words, Jeongguk turns away from the conversation he was in. Thinks nothing of the way he comes to walk alongside you, a hand on the small of your back.

"You don't have to come," you laugh. Had only been telling him so that you could keep him in the loop. Still, it's nice to have him follow you in the way that he does: without question, without request, without reason.

"Wanna," he just shrugs. "Haven't seen you in like, an hour."

"Oh, no," you tease. "How on earth have you coped?"

"Terribly," he admits, sipping on the beer still in his hand that isn't on your back. Passes it over to you. There's an easy silence when you take a sip, beer warm and bitter in your mouth. No need to fill the space where conversations typically are. In fact, it's the first time either of you have had the chance to rest your brains all evening.

Returning the bottle to its original owner, you snake your arm around his waist. Heels off, you'd left them in the reception venue, which is fine - except for when you reach the gravel driveway.

"C'mon," he insists, dopping his posture a little, positioning himself in front of you. "I'll carry you."

"It's fine-"

"Get on," he says, turning back over his shoulder. "It'll be quicker."

Your first attempt at jumping on his back fails. Has you both laughing. Are too drunk to coordinate yourselves properly.

Eventually, though, you land the jump just right. Wrap yourself around his body, and take his beer bottle so he can support your legs. Trust him with your body in the most innocent of ways.

He carries you the entire way without complaint, but as he puts you down outside the hanok rooms, Jeongguk simply says, "You can just borrow my jacket."

There's a curious wonder to the way you look at him, glitter shining under the low lighting of the pathway guides. This far out of the city, it's easy to see the stars - but Jeongguk would argue that it's always this easy whenever he's around you.

Narrowing your eyes, you tilt your head. "Could have offered ten minutes ago. Saved yourself a walk."

He purses his lips. Tries not to smile.

"True," he nods, drawing you closer, nudging his nose up against yours. Whispers against your lips, "But I couldn't have done this."

It's not new, the way Jeongguk's lips sink into yours.

The way he smiles into the feeling? Not new, at all.

The way you pull him closer and giggle between kisses, is again, nothing new.

Nor is the pressure of his lip ring, nor how his tongue strokes against your bottom lip. The way he kisses you is tried and tested; guaranteed to have you both melting into one another's touch.

You're not entirely sure how long it lasts. All you know is that your lips are a little numb, and his are now the colour of your lipstick.

Serene, as you stroke across his bottom lip with your thumb, you wonder how you made it this far with a man who makes you feel as secure as Jeongguk. Quietly hum, "Can I ask you something?"

He nods. "Anything."

And even though you already know the answer, you just have to be sure. Have to know. Aren't sure what you'll do if Jeongguk gives you a different answer than the one you expect.

"The pact... The one with Hayun." Upon hearing your words, Jeongguk frowns. Understands what you're asking immediately. "Is it... Like, will it still happen?"

There's a soft shake to his head. Silence. A deeper frown, and then, "No, Byeol."

"Even if we-"

"Even if we call things off," he cuts you off. Thinks it's vital that you know how serious he is about this. Knows you met him at a time when the answer would have been different, so that it might be hard to believe now. "B, that chapter of my life-" he shrugs. "-It's done. Completely. Entirely."

"Even if you're single at thirty?"

"If I'm single at thirty, it means I've fucked things up with you," he states, swallowing back the uncomfortable feeling that comes with that potential. Looks down, jaw a little tense. Shakes his head, then focuses his hardened gaze in on you again. "I liked telling Seobi we're a couple, earlier. I want that reality. And I also want you to stop second-guessing my intentions, B. You know how I feel about you."

You're silent, now. Hadn't even realised that your insecurities had been tarnishing his vulnerability.

You do believe him. Of course, you do. There's never been a pair of eyes more honest than his.

And maybe it's because he's drunk, and feeling everything a little more intensely, but Jeongguk feels like he simply can't take it any longer. Is in dire need of something more than the 'nothing' you're pretending to be.

But he's got a plan, and a way that he wants to do things, and a handful of more dates until he can do any of that.

So instead, he rests his forehead against yours. Wants to give you his heart, but will settle for his outerwear. Insists, "Wear my jacket, B. Please."

It's a curious way to declare your status as 'his'.

A shared blazer is exactly that. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a way to keep warm - but it's a sacrifice of his own comfort. A display of his desire to provide. Slightly primal, you think, as you wrap yourself in the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body.

The garment swamps you, but Jeongguk thinks it looks sweet. Likes how undeniable it is that his pocket square matches your dress perfectly, now that it's on you.

And so when you return, Jungook takes the opportunity to dance with you in a way that you really shouldn't dance with a 'friend.'

Palms finding your waist beneath his jacket, the low lighting of the pavilion isn't enough to obscure the intimacy from onlookers. He's holding you close for everyone to see. For speculation to be made. For gossip to spread and for whispers to echo.

And they do.

Nodding across to the pair of you, Yoongi smiles. Leans across to his new wife as they sit together for a breather, and says, "Think they're finally getting their shit together."

Seoyeon can see it in your eyes; the way you look at Jeongguk.

It's the same way she looks at Yoongi.

Glancing across the room, Seoyeon is quick to check if Hayun has clocked what's happening, and frowns when she notices the little bit of agony resting between her friend's impeccably shaped brows. Regret, perhaps.

Seoyeon chooses not to mention it to Yoongi.

Instead, she rests her chin on her shoulder and looks at him. Waits for him to look at her, too. When he does, she smiles. "Do you think they'll go the distance?"

The answer is obvious. She just wants Yoongi's opinion so that she knows how to handle Hayun in the wake of it all. She's still her friend, after all. Still not someone she wants to see hurting.

But Seoyeon also knows there's no way in hell she can let Hayun throw a tantrum and disrupt the fledgeling romance between you and Jeongguk. It wouldn't be fair. Not to anyone.

Yoongi nods. Is quiet when he replies, "I think so."

He continues to watch his wife as her warm eyes focus on the pair of you once more. There's laughter between you both, Jeongguk leaning close to whisper in your ear as you slowly waltz together.

Hand in hand, there's no mistaking how naturally it comes to you both. A warm glow of exposed bulbs paint you both in an orange hue; toasty warm and quite content. The sparkle that's forever on your skin is in your eyes, too. And his. Sort of feels like watching a cosmic calamity take place.

There's something incredibly ordinary about you and Jeongguk. Totally unsurprising. Puzzle pieces correctly slotting into place.

What makes you special is that you're the final pieces of the puzzle. The ones that make it complete; that end the painstaking trials it takes to create the perfect picture.

"Okay, okay," you chuckle, deliberately trying not to draw attention to the conversation you're having. It's nonsense. Makes you feel all warm inside, how joyful it is to be with a person like him. He grips your waist when you laugh. Likes the way it feels. "Next hypothetical: Genie grants you one wish. No money, no bringing anyone back from the dead, no superpowers. What's the wish?"

"What's the point in a wish if I can't get superpowers?!" He protests, quietly and giggly, just like you are.

"The point is that it has to be something you really want."

"I do really want to fly-"

"Then get a plane."

"You're no fun, Byeol," he grins, suggesting that you are, in fact, a lot of fun. "Please let me have superpowers."

"Nope."

"Plea-"

"No," you laugh, knowing it's too much of an easy out. "C'mon. Use that brain of yours, babe."

And maybe it's just because you're a little drunk, or maybe it's cause the romantic air of a wedding has your brain a little loopy, but 'babe' almost feels normal. Almost.

The way Jeongguk cocks his brow, but says nothing about it – just accepts the term of endearment – makes you think that maybe it is normal.

Jeongguk would quite like it to be the norm. Finds himself all rather endeared, actually. Wants to kiss you. Knows he shouldn't.

So instead, he tells you, "I wish we were alone."

It's not that he wants to leave, or that he's bored of the celebrations. He's enjoying this dance floor far too much, and still has energy to burn from the sheer amount of cake he practically inhaled after dinner.

It's just that everything is so loud.

But when it's you, and him, in an empty room, Jeongguk's brain switches off. Falls into a natural state of being. It's the only calm he thinks he's ever known. Comfort, in a life that routinely feels uncomfortable.

"Why?" You smile, all tipsy and tepid, as if your heart isn't beating a mile a minute thanks to how risky this feels. It's like you're scared you're gonna get caught – but caught for what? You and Jeongguk are exactly what everyone thinks you are. There's nothing to hide, because it's impossible to keep a chemistry like yours secret.

You're caesium in water; nitrous oxide and carbon disulfide meeting an open flame. Things learned about as kids, but rarely – if ever – seen in adult life.

In fact, there's only one other example of such chemistry in this room, and they're sitting at the top table with freshly polished rings around their fourth fingers.

"You know why," Jeongguk simply says, then decides that simplicity is for idiots. Wants to embellish his words. Fluff them up. Make them stupid and irrational and ever so foolish. Wants to declare, because he thinks declarations are what you deserve. "Just wanna be with you, B. Constantly. It's like I have tinnitus whenever there are other people around, but then I see you and it-"

The word 'stops' is lost in your lips. It's fast and it's fleeting, but it's your own declaration right back to him: I want you, proudly.

Like the dragonflies you'd marvelled at earlier, your lips only flutter against his for a small fraction of time. Just long enough for him to know what magic feels like.

When you pull away, Jeongguk's eyes stay closed, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"What?" you giggle, squeezing the sides of his waist with so much adoration that he thinks he'll melt into your touch. "Am I not allowed to kiss you?"

On a technicality, no. You're not. You'd agreed to let things fly under the radar – but you're both tipsy, and you both hate the idea of other people simply being unaware.

Because you are proud.

You are his.

And you want that red hot pair of eyes on you to know it, too.

To know that he's yours. Him, and his pretty nose.

"It's against the rules," he smiles – then steals one right back.

"When it comes to rules, we always seem to break them," you hum, all serene and docile in the wake of Jeongguk's reciprocation.

That's the thing about you both. Are just handfuls of bad decisions wrapped up with bows and dusted in glitter. So pristinely messy that you wouldn't be out of place in the Tate, or SOMA, or some other gallery Jeongguk hasn't heard of but you know intimately. Displayed somewhere not too far from Tracy Emin's My Bed, or Kang Wonje's Black Star. Entirely human and yet not of this world at all. Will be adored by the masses; and will confuse just as many. An invaluable piece of art that will never be auctioned, 'cause you can't put a price on this. On love.

"It's what they were made for," he promises.

"Well, in that case," you hum, getting on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. You're about to make an incredibly bad decision, and you know it - you're just beyond caring. "I think know a couple more rules we can break."

And the way Jeongguk looks at you would suggest he's past the point of caring, too. 

"Fuck it."