#They both quarrel and eventually they come to a realization they both are just kind of lonely

[glitterhoof]

anyways a doodle i drew of a scene me and my scene partner had written in two days

[oddeyecir-cle]

 ✶ ˖  ࣪  📹 .  ぅ

lee donghyuck enemies to lovers fic ideas (all fics are haechan × reader)

haechan who is your rival coworker + secretly deadpool

for the sake of this story, lets assume deadpool does hide his identity. he works at a tech company and is constantly beefing with his coworker that he's lowkey attracted to. and the plot could maybe be something like you accidentally finding out his identity and then using that information to slightly/ kind of/ in a non-toxic way to blackmail him. eg: making him run errands for you, asking to tag along on his quests as deadpool. then the pair gets closer through all the time they spend together etc etc.

✶ note : hyuck HAS to be the sassiest, funniest, most sarcastic, cocky human being ever. also include some spidermark maybe

haechan as the prince of the neighbouring kingdom

historical au. very basic ik but hear me out. your kingdom's glory and power is gradually draining and it's threatened by multiple rivaling kingdoms. that is when your mother, the queen, tells you there is no choice but to turn to hyuck's kingdom for help. you hate the idea but you know everyone's counting on you so you go through with it anyways. (this is historical so there could be a very cool scene of the reader riding on a horse in battle armour to neighbouring kingdom's palace themself but whatever). they're good, kind people so they agree to help you. they send over a part of their military along with some weapons and of course haechan himself, their most prized possession who, like you, is skilled with a sword and is a wise leader. there's lots of quarrels between the both of you when it comes to the topic of which one has more power over the other and about who should be leading the troops. but you soon put your animosity aside when you realize that you have to work as a team to win. (insert dramatic battle sequence with swords and arrows flying around. at one point, you and haechan lock eyes and suddenly he drops to the ground. the world starts to blur around you when you realize he's been stabbed in his back. you frantically rush to his aid but he falls limp in your arms. its now upto the writer to kill him there itself and end the story. very angsty, i love. or they could also save him somehow and give main characters the happy ending they deserve).

 ✶ note : sloooooowwwww buuuurn. i mean this should be a long ass series with 7k+ words per chapter. should be so heavy on the angst and the hate that it makes you wonder if they do actually end up loving each other in the end. please include sword fighting scenes with sexual tension i beg you. (im big on bollywood, can u tell).

haechan as a stranger/ tour guide you meet on a family trip

you've just gotten out of a 3 year long relationship after your boyfriend cheated on you with your best friend. things get worse when your family, unaware of your breakup, forces you on a 2 week trip to *insert cute, small country" . here you meet the annoying, sarcastic, a-little-too-happy-for-his-own-good donghyuck. he is with the group your family is touring with (him being the tour guide is a pretty cute plot too but it could kind of complicate things later) and instantly wins everyone over with his charm, except you of course. in classic hyuck fashion, he tries to keep getting your attention and eventually succeeds. his company helps ease the pain of the heartbreak he didn't even know about. its bittersweet when it's time to part ways. you realise after you come back to your college dorm that you never exchanged phone numbers and you fail to find him on social media as well. but fate has strange ways of bringing people together. which is why you cant stop smiling when crash into a certain someone during a regular grocery run.

✶ note : more on the fluff and less on the angst for this one. and maybe a dash of slice of life as well.

haechan as captain of the football team.

there is no actual plot for this other than the fact that you're a cheerleader and also his academic rival (there is no trope i love more than this). my vision for this is very 2000s romcom. ik this isn't a lot to work with but there could be some sub trope like fake dating mostly.

✶ note: nothing much just make it cute

+i have a few more ideas, will probably make a part 2

++if in the future, by some miracle, people do find these interesting enough to use, please dont forget to credit me!!

[mathclassd00dles-blog]

Hi can you tell me more of your Rise Alopex whst relationship she has with each of the turtles

Omg yes!

My original plan was to make a rise comic series that had Alopex as one of the main story branches. I have been busy with work and haven't had much time to work on it lately but things are starting to slow down so I might have time to go back to it soon.

Much like the other iterations of Alopex, she was created on purpose, but this time she was created by John Bishop as some kind of animal super soldier for the EPF(she's not the first one he’s created either) and she was raised in the EPF by her ’handler’(think like a K-9 handler in the military or police force, someone who raises, trains, and ’handles’ the animal is usually considered a handler) he is currently unnamed for the time being.

⬇️More under the cut⬇️

Her first time in New York was just before the invasion, John Bishop ordered that she(along with some other EPF mutants) were needed in the base in New York so she was flown in from the California base. She was there during the invasion and for a short while after before she was flown back home although she found it a little suspicious how Bishop seemingly knew about the invasion beforehand. Koya and Takeshi(tiger claw) are also mutants in the EPF.

Almost a year later she is requested to come back to NYC for a mission. She was raised on the belief that she was a soldier to protect the earth and all its residents from aliens. This is also when she meets turtles up close for the first time.

Her relationship with the turtles starts off a bit rocky because she is technically working for ’the other side’. To the Hamato clan she's a villain and to her, they are a thorn in her side every time she sees them while on a mission. She generally tries to avoid them as much as possible rather than engage.

The first turtle she meets is Donnie and oh my stars do they start out hating each other guts. It was a fight at first sight for those two. A pull of a tail and a bite to the arm, chaos ensued. The animosity does cool down a little between those two(eventually) and their quarrels fall into some kind of rhythmic rivalry. They throw punches and insults at each other. The first time Leo sees how they interact he calls them an old married couple and they both get offended by this statement (she doesn't meet the other turtles till months later).

She won't get to meet Mikey or Leo for a good long while, at least not while she is still working for the EPF under John Bishop. There’s a lot of character development that has to happen inbetween before she really meets the rest of the brithers a bit more personally.

The first time she meets Raph is when she falls into hidden city and accidentally bumps into him. It's only a quick interaction but she looks at him and thinks he's a dinosaur because he is just MASSIVE. but that is the only interaction that happens between those two for the time being. They don't introduce themselves or anything at this moment they won't even see each other again till she is out of the EPF.

The first time Leo meets Alopex, she is critically injured and ends up getting help from the team medic(Leo).

Mikey would probably meet her after she gets some medical attention and he would realize that she is the one who was annoying his purple-clad genius brother Donnie lately but she was always left unnamed during his rants. Mikey secretly ships it thinking that his brother stepped into an enemies-to-lovers trope. Which in all honesty is true. But those two don't get there for a long time.

But I think for the most part they would all get along. She and Donnie will also get along too... eventually… their bickering arguments are always a good show, remember to bring popcorn.

Alopex hates Bishop's guts, she always has since she was a kit. She was mutated at a very young age by Bishop because his research showed that the younger the subject is at the time of mutation the more control they have over it and the better they can train certain habits of their species in or out.

She has trauma regarding certain punishments while growing up, one of which is the muzzle. To Bishop, the muzzle punishment has shown to be the most effective towards her. (it's not a normal one either, she can't take it off herself)

She's about 17 years old present day, 16 during the invasion. She's technically a red fox but since she has melanism her fur is mostly black with a few white areas, on her chest and stomach, each paw, tail, mouth, and dots for eyebrows and bright yellow eyes.

She doesn't have powers since her mutagen is not from an oozesquito but from a research institute called TCRI, or at least that's what she's been told.

She loves pumpkin bread, pumpkin muffins, and just about any kind of pumpkin-flavored treat, however, she's also a fan of fried chicken. Favorite color is green.

She also loves motorcycles and has a good understanding of how machines and engines work because of it. (this is something that Alopex and Donnie could possibly bond over)

She hates heights(specifically when flying, planes, jets, helicopters, all of it), the muzzle, John Bishop, and Takeshi(mutual hate, more story on him later if interested), and tomatoes.

(my art style changes multiple times throughout this post, some sketches are from months ago and some are more recent)

Please let me know if you have any more questions about this au!

[svtellify]

One relationship I find greatly underrated is Kenric and Oralie. Yeah at first their relationship seemed like a footnote in the story but I love how Shannon develops their relationship in the later books, especially Stellarlune.

(Spoilers Ahead)

When we finally open Kenric's cache we see him go through the different stages of his life and his relationship with Oralie.

It wasn't love at first sight for them, quite the opposite. Neither of them got along with each other. Both had valid reasons, Kenric pointing out Oralie's personal ambition getting in the way of doing the right decisions. (A trait we still see in her today) And Oralie angry at how he underestimates her and prevents her from doing her job.

I don't know if it's just me but their argument seemed to have mirrored a lover's quarrel. There's a tinge of attraction between them.

Eventually they come to respect one another. Both realizing that their loathing was a way to cope with the attraction they had for one another. Which was totally plausible because the council forbids it's members from falling in love or having children. A romantic connection towards anyone could risk their position. So it's better to avoid them.

But once they become friends, once that lavender haze begins to creep through it's impossible for them to avoid their feelings. It's inevitable for them to make the choice. love or duty.

Kenric had served for many years in the council already. He's seen all and is disillusioned by it. He's ready to settle down, but not without the woman he loves.

Oralie wants to be with him but project moonlark prevented her from fulfilling that dream. Sophie needed allies if she were going to survive. Say what you want about Oralie but she sacrificed alot for Black Swan, for Sophie.

So their hopes for a relationship is crushed. The story constantly makes us think of what could have been if they chose each other. They were both each other's number one match. What if they got married? What if they started a family? Because it's all we have left; the "what if's"

Because that chance is gone. Kenric is gone. All Oralie has right now are memories.

I think that's greatly depressing.

Closing thoughts: I think they're a foil of Keefe and Sophie. Both couples balanced each other out. And both have solid reasons for them not to be together.

Thanks for reading my ted talk if you haven't skimmed to the end.

oh my god yes. yes yes yes.

sophie and keefe are probably the most painful relationship oralie witnesses because it's literally kenric and oralie - if things had gone right. i do have my little theories about keefe spending time as a councillor in the future, and those are even stronger if sophitz were the endgame, but i fully believe oralie would talk them out of it if it meant not being together. not because i believe she regrets her time with kenric, but the way events unraveled.

you said it perfectly - it's not love at first sight. we see a little more affection from kenric because he sees that ambition in oralie and he's coming from a place of experience when he talks to her - this isn't identical for sokeefe, but it's similar in the sense that sophie is more drawn to duty and keefe to instinct. i'd argue that yeah, sophitz and sokeefe are the head and the heart theory, but also sophie and keefe are the head and the heart. and in stellarlune, we see that kind of switch, with keefe taking huge steps back and sophie running forward.

which, i assume, is what oralie would do if she had a second chance with kenric. it's even harder for her because for all she sacrificed for project moonlark and the council, she doesn't really get to reap the benefits from it.

(part of me also wonders if shannon's going to somehow make kenric sophie's dad, just so oralie can have a kid with the man she loved somehow - idk if that would hurt more or less, but there's no other alternative for her dad that i can think of other than alden and that's wrong on so many levels, so.)

"all oralie has are memories." no bc this hurts. it's true and it hurts, and it should, because it's clearly a glaring warning for all the kids - treasure your time. it's a little ominous too, and it makes me wonder if we're going to see another major character death soon. or some kind of actual betrayal by choice and not like with keefe and tam.

(my money's on fitz killing someone because alvar's words keep sticking with me and there is something terrifying about knowing that he stopped pressing buttons and was ready for and wanted his brother to die. but i could be wrong.)

i agree that both couples have reasons to not be together, but i'd almost argue that those are the very reasons they should be together. almost as an extreme example - like, if they can beat all the odds, then so can anyone else. but inversely; if they can't beat the odds, then what chance do any of us have? i am biased bc i love keefe so much, but i do agree that i don't think they should be together - not yet.

but with the state of affairs, if not now, then when?

[the-drifters]

Hello! You said you have a whole ass infodump about the omens and their emotion plus how important they express it. Can I hear your explanation on that? I’m very curious.

Ohh yeah sure!

So like… where do I start uhh-

Lemme start with Dianthus as an example I guess. She starts off very defensive about feeling emotions at all. She states there is no ROOM for her to feel things. Her dialogue on the subject becomes more important for my other points below.

Later on, as she’s around the party, this seems to change. Both Geist and Callistephus shame her over expressing her feelings on at least two occasions. Callistephus says she’s too human, and Geist says her “hope” is a flaw that will lead them to disaster.

Adding onto that, take what’s under the surface in Dianthus and Hydolanzer (the first boss of the game)‘s interactions. Note that Hydolanzer also has a voiced dialogue line that says “Fight well, Dianthus.” She doesn’t WANT to kill Dianthus, but she’s been ordered to.

…I think Cres’s cynical comment on Ein being caught in a “Lover’s Quarrel” between the two Omens is right. Coincidentally. Although there’s a good chance that if there was some sort of romantic tension between Hydolanzer and Dianthus, neither of the two had the understanding which leads me to my next point.

It seems like the Omens have actually been experiencing complex feelings for a very long time, but they repress it. Anyone who acts on them enough to be deemed “dysfunctional” gets wiped and rebooted. Why?

Because their HUMAN CREATORS’ illogical behavior eventually led to their downfall. The Omens have to work toward their goals and serve their masters, but they also kind of look down on them, and project that view onto themselves. They feel shame because they’re afraid of dooming themselves and Humanity toward extinction.

Coming back to Dianthus… she doesn’t seem to be all that well liked by many of her peers for the most part. They make it seem like she’s a black sheep, and Callistephus implies the same for Geist after the other Omens gave up on solving Quietus. Now this is important for Dianthus specifically because… it makes me think her stoicism isn’t just that.

Ever notice how she’s more receptive to snarky comments at her expense than she is compliments? How she shoots down every attempt someone tries to be nice to her? Take some of the break conversations, or when she brings Emily on her airship. I want to say that I think she’s emotionally traumatized. She doesn’t allow herself to be vulnerable until she learns to better understand what she’s feeling in her character story. She loosens up in terms of how she views her relationships with others and how she feels about things toward the end.

And lastly, what does this mean to me? Why’s it so moving for me? Well- it’s because there’s a trait called Alexithymia, which is common in people with certain neurological disabilities (ex: autism) or mental illnesses. Alexithymia means that a person struggles to identify their emotions. Notice how pretty much all of the Omens describe the things they feel as “noise in their circuitry.” They seldom actually label what they feel- because it’s complex, illogical, and new to them. They haven’t learned to understand yet. But in Dianthus’s case, she comes to realize that she can use introspection to at least figure out the meanings behind her feeling and what she wants. And I find that so moving because I experience that too.

So… yeah. That’s my infodump. It’s long but to be fair I have a lot to say. I also have some headcanons which might be in part influencing my analysis but overall it’s just how I view the Omens’ emotions and should be taken with a grain of salt.

[alwaysrevvedup]

@kingsnack​

in hindsight, he knew getting into a fight at school was a bad idea. and normally he's far more put together than that, but tommy and him are no longer friends since he quit hanging out with those assholes and started saving the world instead, realizing there was far more to life than partying with them. not to mention they had made nancy out to be some kind of slut after their break-up, and while he was upset, that left a bad taste in his mouth. which led him to today. tommy was being a grade a asshole on the basketball court in gym today, negging steve every chance he got. eventually it led to tommy "accidentally" tripping him, and steve just lost it. he hauled off and punched him, both of them wrestling each other around on the floor and exchanging a few blows, splitting steve's lip and bruising his cheek, but tommy didn't look any better. he held the detention slip in his hand as he walked down the hall, looking for the room number. he eventually found it, grumbling to himself as he stepped inside the room. "Mr. Harrington, i was wondering if you'd be joining us." The teacher said, holding out his hand for the slip, Steve handing it over. "You're here for an hour, try to do something productive" the man said, waving him off. it wasn't until steve turned around he saw he wasn't alone-- Eddie Munson. of course he was here, steve thought with a small snort. he sighed, moving to sit down at one of the desks, dropping his bag onto the ground before reaching in to pull out a book.

Eddie Munson was almost something of a permanent fixture when it came to detention, as much as the desks and florescent lights were. Sometimes, it came at the price of unruly behavior, talking back, or the usual culprit of his low grades. Somehow, the education system thought punishment would sort out his behavior, but it never really did, Munson’s more rebellious nature always winning in the end. 

While a textbook laid open in front of him, he’d already spent the last five minutes doodling in the margins of his notes, devilish skulls and demons and lightning bolts coming to life at the end of his pen. Deathly silence laid over the room until the door opened, and no one other than King Steve waltzed in, bloodied and bruised like some kind of prized fighter. 

His dark eyes studied the other with renewed interest as the other boy moved to his seat. Now when had Harrington ever traded blows with anyone? The guy typically seemed to steer out of the way of trouble, not into it. The gossip would be floating around the school already, but Eddie was stuck here. But what was better than getting it from the source?  Their supervising teacher moved from his seat, warning the two to stay put as he stepped out to the neighboring classroom for a brief moment. As the door shut, Eddie’s mind started to race. A piece of paper was torn out of his notebook and  crumpled hurriedly between his hands until it made the perfect projectile which he launched at the side of Steve’s head. 

Once he had the jock’s attention, he asked pointedly, “So...who tried to turn your face into lunch meat?” The paper under his arm curled as he folded both on his desktop. “My bet is on Tommy Hagan. Lover’s quarrel?”  A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth, punctuating the question.

[potatochip-oc-dump]

ok list of concepts I have thought of but can't draw atm because Hand Hurty

• I've been toying with the idea of princess maybe being linked to Moonlight somehow by her mother? like her mom and moonlight interacted for something? but I realized I think Gary would fit that sort of role better bc they look more like their mother and also it gives them something to do !! I love them but they are very underdeveloped I thinks...

• this leads to an exchange between Gary and Chip that goes a little something like:

Gary: do you have prophetic dreams too :D???

Chip: i mean i guess you could call it that

Gary: SWEET

• here's the big thing I've been thinking about for a while. I think... Gary visits the Castelle Castle to. kill their parents, because they still assume them to both be there and because he was traumatized by them & thinks they are horrible people. cause they kind of are. but instead finds Princess (and Chip and Gidget)

• And. so princess and Gary reunion. Gary would never kill Princess bc they used to be very close!! but Princess is sort of like.. convinced that she needs to be like her parents and that she needs to revive the kingdom and such. she's like "if I don't I will disappoint my whole entire family *FORCED SMILE*" because she is Also Traumatized. and Gary is very very very against this.

• .......... eventually this conflict escalated when Princess finds out why Gary arrived in the first place and so a sibling quarrel takes place except Gary Has A Fucking Sword and Princess is out for blood (not really but she's now kinda fearing for her life here. do not get it twisted though Gary had no intention of hurting her at all)

• So now they are both scratched up and both ? I guess? coming to some sort of understanding? or they are on that path. not quite there yet. That's why I draw Princess with scars sometimes, that's where she got the notch out of her ear from.

• Eventually Eventually they both reconcile and start to heal and just. they are good and I love them very much. I love the Castelle Siblings !!!!!!

• princess has a bee theme going on. and I've been pondering the idea of how she managed to survive in thw tower for so long. so maybe........ she lived next to a bee hive or something..... which would maybe make her sick of both bees and honey by the time she is rescued. Gary fuckin loves bees though

• speaking of, princess regularly feels awkward around other people and likes to isolate herself in the tower. like she will go back in there because it's what she's used to. :(

• Monty and Wallace beat the shit out of both Midnight and Moonlight. if you even care

[adonis-koo]

wicked • 6

↳ Summary: In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader

↳ Genre: arranged marriage AU, enemies to lovers, it’s kind of a period AU??? Historical but also technically not? prince!AU, eventual smut

Word Count: 8.9k

Previous | Next

Note: concept, lovers quarrel except they don’t realize they’re lovers yet, mmm love me that shit, also did I ever mention this story was like a loose based snow white AU??? :\\

Today was a big day.

Well, as big as they came when it was done it little step’s that you had been taking ever since your arrival to Penumbra. You would be attending a court meal today, breakfast to be precise and you wanted to attend partly because it was being held on the pavilion. 

It was sunning and warm outside and you had quickly found out that due to the cloudy gray days that ceased most of Penumbra’s weather, when a sunny day appeared, everyone took advantage it to it as best they could. 

The spirit of everyone always seems lifted on days such as these, yours included. 

The chiffon sleeves of your dress fluttered with the cool breeze of the day which you appreciated heavily compared to the regular days when you wore extra layers that always made you hot. 

“Wheein?” You inquired softly, the question having lingered in your mind for days now though you had never remembered it strongly enough to ask. 

“Yes m’lady?” Wheein looked back briefly as she had escorted you to the gardens. 

“Who is the one that handles my wardrobe? I’d love to thank them, their choices in dresses are very nice.” You asked with a slight tilt in your head. 

Wheein’s eyebrows shot up a little before she suddenly let out a giggle, covering her lips as you both arrived to the terris. The gesture made you frown a little self consciously, was there a seamstress that you should have already known or…?

“I apologize Princess, It’s just…” Wheein smiled amused, “I assumed you knew the Prince actually hand picked a lot of your wardrobe himself.” 

Your legs had stopped in their track as you looked up at Wheein in shock at her words. Jungkook had…! You immediately looked away from her as you mumbled an, “Oh…”

Jungkook. 

Your eyes had suddenly flickered to the giant pavilion which held a large banquet table under it’s roof. It was fairly early in the morning still and the table had not yet been filled- which was why you had decided to attend this morning knowing as early as it was, most would not attend until late morning. 

Not only this but you enjoy a more quiet setting in the morning. Your eyes found the figure you had been searching for, while most were still asleep you had come to find out that your husband was actually quite the early bird. At first you assumed it was only because he was duty bound with training the royal guard. 

But even on his off days, he always seemed to be awake before most of the world. Your lips quirked into a frown however at the sight of who he was joined beside. Seohyun was leaned against the table, a sly yet amused smile on her lips at something he said. It wasn’t hard to spot how endured she was by him, granted you didn’t quite see the appeal but…

You crossed your arms suddenly as you looked away, she couldn’t make it anymore obvious she was still interested in your husband…!

It wasn’t that you...that you cared...But…

Wheein had been apprehensive to say anything about whatever relations Jungkook held with Seohyun, as she had said it was something he needed to discuss with you himself when the time was right. 

All she said was that before the Rite of Peace was set in motion, Seohyun and Jungkook were originally going to wed. 

You couldn’t get it out of her head since she told you that two weeks ago. That was how much time had passed since the incident where you had slept in bed with Jungkook after the scare with Sir Claudin. 

Apparently word had gotten out to Seohyun and she had thrown a massive fit- you weren’t a witness to the event, but to the aftermath of the torn up hallway and two crying maids. It wasn’t a pretty sight. 

And more then anything you weren’t stupid, which was why you had interroigated Wheein in the first place of the two of them. And again, you didn’t care…! You didn’t! You just...had a hard time looking at any of their interactions the same way ever since. 

And it wasn’t as if Jungkook would hurt your feelings anymore now then he had back when you first got married, if he was unfaithful to you, there was nothing you could do to change that. After all, it was so obvious now who his affections lied with. 

A bitterness welled in your stomach as Wheein carefully watched you before her eyes flickered to Jungkook’s laid out figure in his seat, lazily swirling a goblet of water in hand while he spoke to Seohyun. 

“...Has anything happened...since that night?” Wheein finally asked quietly, her eyes tender as she curiously tilted her head. 

Realizing you must have stared for too long your eyes reluctantly met hers before you sighed while shaking your head, “No,” You spoke softly, “I’m fine,” You clarified a little louder before smiling a little, “Let’s get seated.” 

Wheein nodded her head a little with a tiny smile of understanding before she gestured you along under the terris to seat you for breakfast, “If you eat fast enough you’ll be finished before the rest of the court shows.” She whispered as she pushed in your chair. 

You let out a small laugh as you shook your head, allowing her to fill your plate with what she had been accustomed to your favorite things, pastries being one of them. While many Penumbrian cuisines were foreign to you, you certainly weren’t a picky eater and you were always curious to try new things. 

The sweeter breakfast options were beyond your favorite to eat though. You wiggled somewhat excitedly in your seat as you thanked Wheein before you began to break apart the blueberry scone. 

“So you’ve decided you're done being a goblin alone in your lonely dungeon?” The voice was duclet and smooth as Taehyung spoke, taking a seat in the chair beside you as you twisted to look at him with a raised brow. 

“Bedroom, first of all,” You corrected as your mouth threatened to curve into a smile, “And yes I’m...I suppose you could say I’m trying to tackle the fickle beast of the court.” 

“Fickle it is,” Taehyung nodded exasperatedly, “I commend that Princess, not even the bravest of us can deal with the court.” 

“Don’t bother the Princess first thing in the morning Taehyung!” Jimin nearly made you knock your goblet over in surprise as he popped out from behind your seat to sit on the other side of you, “She looks like the freshest bloomed flower on this fine day,” He batted flirtatious eyes at you. 

You had become quick to realize that Jimin was of a flirtatious nature and any of his words were never to be taken serious, that along with all the women he constantly would ask you for advice about which would end up leaving him within days. And when he wasn’t wooing women he was actual useful around the castle much to your surprise (though he’d whine if he ever heard you say it aloud).

Jimin was a specialized assassin soldier which at first you had assumed it just mean he killed targeted people, but apparently that wasn’t quite what it meant. He had explained it had more to with stealth infiltration. It varied in need, sometimes he’d wiggle his way into another country for information and to find out rumors and what he could about their infantry and numbers, other times it was sabotaging and intercepting the enemy. 

You were quite impressed to say the least. Above all else though, due to his position Jimin wasn’t around most days due to his work. 

“You scared me!” You smacked his arm as he whined out grabbing it as if it was tender, “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” 

“I just arrived home and this is how my lovely Princess greets me!?” Jimin cried out as he grabbed your hand in plea. 

“I’m not your Princess, and stop grabbing my hand.” You complained as you snatched your hand away from him. 

Jimin’s playfulness was only riled further as his lips quirked into a smirk as he grabbed it again pulling you closer, “What can I say Princess? I’m warming up to you just as much as you’re warming up to me.” 

“You’re gonna make her go back inside again.” Taehyung spoke calmly as he sipped on his soup. 

“What can I say?” Jimin sighed as he released his hold on you, “I suppose I just have that affect on women.” Jimin turned to you with a wink, “Except they’re usually dragging me to their room with them.” 

Your lips twisted and you felt your face become hot as you sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of your nose as you didn’t reply. If there was one culture shock you just hadn’t gotten over, it was the lack of proprietary when it came to anything taboo. It seemed nobody really cared for the construct of virginity and it didn’t ever carry an indignant punch it would in other countries whenever it would get brought up. 

Just like now. You couldn’t deny that it was strange, you had heard horrid things about Penumbra during your youth and especially when it was announced that you’d marry their Prince. All kinds of things had been rumored- things such as ritualistic orgies as one of them. 

It was ironically amusing to think about now given you lived here. Nothing of the sort went out. But it did concern you- just how twisted the truths of Penumbra seemed to tangle whenever rumors escaped the kingdom. 

Most of the heinous things you had heard were simply just that- a twisted truth taking way too far. Such as again, ritualistic orgies that was actually just Penumbra’s loose ideals when it came to anything sexual, no women was considered a harlot for not being a virgin. No man was made castrated for having a woman in his bed. 

You wouldn’t lie, these ways were often strange to you, and it felt taboo to speak of- even if it weren’t here, therefore you didn’t participate in the talk of it as everyone else did. Not that you had much of anything to talk about regarding intimacy. 

Taehyung’s amused snort brought you out of your thoughts as you both looked at him, “I’ve seen your future Jimin.” 

“Woah really!?” Jimin straightened up in his seat, “Am I with a delicate rose such as our Princess?” 

“All I saw was you wanking after you ran off yet another girl.” Taehyung began to chuckle at how sour Jimin’s face twisted as he scoffed. 

“Piss off.” Jimin muttered as he crossed his arms with a sulking expression, it wasn’t their words but their interaction that made you giggle a little as you shook your head while plopping a piece of scone into your mouth. 

Your eyes caught two figures ahead moving, the two men who just arrived, standing out in the pavilion as they made small talk before drawing their swords, tilting your head you peered a little upward to see what they were doing, watching as they tapped swords before metal clashed against metal. 

The one on the left seemed a bit slower in movement and had a hard time defending himself against the one on the right who was obviously more skilled. You observed curiously as you continued eating before Jimin hummed, a smirk tugging on his lips as he spoke up, “You seem curious about the entertainment.” 

You jumped a little, not realizing the two had been observing you while you were distracted, fumbling a little you shrugged meekily, “O-oh well...I mean, It is interesting…Jimin!” You whispered out at the sight of him standing up gleefully. 

“Hoseok! Why don’t you show our lovely princess a few moves!” You flailed, face suddenly feeling hot as Jimin’s loud voice, the whole table’s attention suddenly drawing to you as you shrunk in your seat.

Jimin stood up as he dragged you along with him, “Princess,” He grabbed your shoulders from behind, standing a little taller than you as he had that minx smile on his face, “Hoseok, my brother!” 

“We aren’t brothers.” 

Hoseok as he was introduced, whirled his sword, his smile was nearly bright as the sun but it was almost crooked as he peered down at you, suddenly feeling intimidated you looked down at your feet as he spoke, “It’s an honor to meet you Princess,” He bowed before looking up with that same expression as Jimin, “You’re curious about the way of the sword?” 

Jimin had stretched out as he walked into the pavilion ring, your eyes following him before flicking to Hoseok, feeling somewhat awkward as you were well aware you had more than a few eyes on you, “Well...I um...I just find it interesting to watch.” You offered a weak smile, hoping that didn’t sound offensive. 

Hoseok’s smile brightened as he raised a brow, holding out a hand to you as you cautiously took it, “I’m sure you’ve figured out Princess but swordplay is…” He hummed as he walked you to the far end of the pavilion, “-It’s like an art form to us Penumbrians. We speak through the blades, it’s how sword dancing was formed, and while it seems violent in nature, it’s not quite as it appears- we respect one another through metal and metal work. Sparring is honorable and good natured sport for us. Everyone who lives in Penumbra is familiar with how to hold a sword at the very least, it’s simply who we are as a people.” 

Hoseok had a way with words that made you feel somewhat curious and enraptured by his detail and explanation, you found yourself a little more drawn to him and not so intimidated as he smiled a little. 

Picking up a smaller sword from the barrel set off in the corner he gave it whirl as he held it front of him as if weighing the metal to handle before whirling it to point to the ground as he held it out to you making you jump, having been caught up in his words as a smirk tugged on his lips, “What about you Princess? I’ve always found myself curious about Eunoia’s ways, after all your people aided ours through the Dark Age. Do you have any traditions in your country?”

It was the first time you had ever been asked a question such as this, your expression perked immediately though you tried to not let yourself get too excited as you gave a meek smile, taking the sword from him.

The weight immediately made the muscles in your arm work as you replied, “We have a similar dance work in my country, it’s with ribbons and fabric fans though. It’s used to signify the freedom from our old oppressive descendants, when the Old Blood were cast off the throne and the Age of Celestia ended, we used expression of dance during celebrations yearly.”

“Good!” Hoseok chirped, grabbing your free hand as he guided it to wrap around the hilt as he hummed, “Tradition is what binds us all together, it’s what gives us pride in our country and keeps up our morale. You understand this then, yes?” You nodded, “Then you understand why Penumbrians have a lot of pride? We have a very rich history and due to our enemies taking advantage of it and us in the past we keep among ourselves now. But I’d recommend going to the scholars library and reading up. It may help in your quest for integration.”

Hoseok gave you a wink as you suddenly felt flustered at how close his body was to yours, you had been so caught up in his words you didn’t even realize. He just had a way with speech, naturally charming, but it didn’t feel as sly and snake-like as Jimin’s. 

“Jung.” 

You stiffened at the deep cold voice, that was undoubtedly your husband’s, it sounded more rigid then you last heard it and just the single word alone made you lowered your sword, turning around to see Jungkook standing upright.

His expression didn’t look the least bit pleasant, for the longest time you had assumed his expression simply never changed, he always looked brooding and stoic. But at some point you realized you were terribly wrong, Jungkook was not an expressive man but he certainly didn’t have a steeled expression by any means. 

It was all subtle shifts, like now, his brows furrowed a little and his jaw clenched making him look just a little more stiff then normal. Shockingly enough Hoseok didn��t seem the least bit phased by the Prince, only smiling as he raised a brow, “Your Highness?” 

You glanced between the two males as you felt your throat become dry at Hoseok’s seemingly smug attitude, he may be charming but however he and Jimin were linked, it was obviously for a reason. 

Jungkook’s lips twitched a little as he stepped closer to you both as he lowered his voice, “You’re dismissed.” You felt a small chill in your spine as Hoseok suddenly smiled as if he was amused, shrugging as he held up his hands. 

“Of course Your Majesty.” Hoseok sent you one last wink as your gaze immediately dropped to the ground, why was Jungkook even interfering in this? Wasn’t he conversing with Seohyun? You felt a little awkward but not a second was wasted as soon as Hoseok resumed his spar with the…? Perhaps lower class swordsmen?

“You’ll need a tighter grip if you expect to not have the sword flying out of your hand upon contact with your opponent.” Jungkook’s voice was stern but not nearly as cold as before, your gaze flew to his as your brows rose. He stood tall and his face expectant as you shuffled a little, feeling a bit foolish, what were you even doing holding a sword? 

No princess should be holding such a weapon as this, “-Well? Don’t just stand there.” Jungkook tutted circling you like prey.

You felt even more self conscious then you did before as you sighed, your shoulder’s caving a little as you wilted while mumbling, “-I- I’ve never even held a weapon before, a princess shouldn’t-” 

“A Penumbrian Princess, would hold a sword with dignity,” Jungkook cut you off, his eyes narrowing a little as he curved a brow, a disciplined expression on his face as he continued, “You do know it’s expected of the crowned Prince and Princess to not only wield weapons, but to be the best at it. It was only a matter of time before some form of training would begin for you.” 

Your mouth was dry and you stared up at him in somewhat disbelief, “Form of training?” You raised a brow, “So what? You’re going to train me?” You felt apprehensive at the idea, two weeks wasn’t a long time to not talk to somebody but in this moment it felt as though you and Jungkook were oceans apart. 

“If you could be level headed and patient for once.” 

“Excuse me-” 

“Now lift your sword.” 

When did Jungkook ever willingly speak to you? Unless much like the past, it was to insult you? His change in attitude was...odd...it wasn’t as if he was being kind to you but this seemed a bit...out of character for him. But you supposed if this was his, odd way of trying to initiate a friendship with you, who were you to deny him? 

You didn’t have any expectation in him to befriend you at all, you both had left one another alone the last two weeks aside from seeing one another each night for dinner with his father. But even then words were never exchanged. 

Two weeks without a single word, and it seemed as if there was definitely a shift in his attitude. Perhaps what took you off guard was the sense of guard Jungkook still held up with you. He didn’t need to display it for you to sense it was still there. 

You stared at him for a long moment, not realizing how sulky your expression was and dare you say it might have even amused him though he would never let you see it. 

After a long moment you warily gripped against the hilt of the sword before raising the small sword up. 

Jungkook’s eyes were calculating as he scanned you up and down, in most cases you’d feel somewhat objectified but you had a feeling that wasn’t what he was looking at. 

He suddenly stepped in your personal space as you squeaked, jumping a little as his hands grabbed at your shoulders as he tutted, “You’re always so tense, you won’t get far in swinging if you can’t relax,” His voice was deeper then you remembered as he spoke, pressing your shoulders down as he pulled you forward, “And your weight is on your back foot, your opponent could knock you off balance easily. You need to distribute your weight on both feet evenly.”

Jungkook was already maneuvering you around much to your embarrassment, trying not to let yourself get flustered at his wandering hands, especially when it was so obvious his intentions were not what your mind kept trying to make them.

Jungkook stepped back as his eyes washed over you once more in inspection before he finally sighed as if he had come to a conclusion, “This sword is too heavy for you, you can hardly hold it up.” 

He suddenly snorted as if amused, “You never have held a weapon have you?” 

“If you’re just gonna make fun of me I’m going to ask Hoseok to help me.” You let out a whine,, letting your arms drop as the tip of the sword dug into the ground.

“Hoseok won’t be able to save your horrid form any better than I can princess.” Jungkook quirked a brow, “It’ll take a lot of basics just to even get you swinging huh.” He tucked his tongue into his cheek. 

“Jungkook…” 

“Relax,” Jungkook turned around as he waved his hand, unbeknownst to you his lips tugged into an brief amused smile before it disappeared as he faced you once more, “Quicksilver will help the problem immensely, it’s much lighter and better suited for smaller opponents. It can be used with an aggressive style which I think personally would suit you.” 

“Is that a backhanded compliment?” Your eyes cut a little into him. 

“Make of it what you want.” He shrugged innocently. 

Jungkook snatched the sword from you as he placed it back in the barrel, his hand floated above as if searching for something in particular, whatever it was Jungkook was searching he never found due to the growl that came from neither you nor him. 

“Wow. You must feel so proud of yourself Princess.” You turned to face the voice of Seohyun, a cold smile on her lips as she practically waltz up to you, her voice snide and full of sarcasm. 

Your arms immediately wrapped around yourself once more as you frowned, taking a big step back to put space between you and Seohyun.

She paused, pulling a sword from the barrel as she gave it a whirl, “Holding a sword must be quite difficult when all you’ve ever done was…” She paused for a second in thought before she gave a viscous smile, “...What was it again? Toss ribbons around?” She gave an animated pout as you felt your face become heated. 

Your jaw clenched and your posture straightened a little, you wouldn’t let yourself be made to feel embarrassed about your own sacred traditions which you held with your own pride, especially to someone such as her, “Eunoia has long since been a pacifistic,” You spoke soft but firm, “I’ve never had reason to hold a sword until now. And if it is a duty of the crowned Penumbrian Princess to wield one then…I would be honored to learn.” 

Seohyun stared at you for a long moment, and though her eyes didn’t change, it still felt like she was sending daggers at you as her lips finally twitched into a viscous smirk, “Well how kind of the bitch Princess to feel honored about such a task. You know what Princess?” She hummed before throwing the sword on the ground, you jumped away from it in surprise as you looked up at her in confusion as she spoke, “I think, we should get better acquainted Princess.” 

“That’s enough Seohyun.” 

Jungkook’s voice was chilled and low and- was he this close to you before? Words couldn’t form in your mouth as you squeaked at the arm that wrapped around your waist, your entire body stiffening at the warm grip that held you close and the sight of the deadly glare in his eyes as he pulled you close. 

Seohyun didn’t relent though, in fact, watching the whole sight only seemed to make her even angrier as her eyes glared at his hand- the one that was placed at your waist before she glared back up at him, “No! I have a birth right to challenge her as a Penumbrian citizen and of the royal court.” 

Challenge you? Was this a...a...sign that she wanted to duel you!? You felt a drop in your stomach as you swallowed, looking back down at the sword...You hadn’t even done anything to truly offend her...at least you didn’t think you had…! True your interactions had been anything but kind, but it never seemed to bother her up until now. 

“Then it’s within my right to take her place.” Jungkook’s voice was low and growled, how Seohyun didn’t wilt beneath his cool glare was beyond you, but then again hers was in opposition, she was all fiery and brash compared to his deathly icy demeanor.

“Oh how convenient is that. Tell me Jungkook, when have you ever cared for this broad?” Her voice was low and whispered threateningly as she gave another wicked smile, “Wasn’t it not too long ago you told me it was cowardly to let someone stand in place for a duel?” 

Jungkook’s lips finally twitched into a smile but it looked anything but nice, “This has nothing to do with her or being cowardly. This has to do with you being a spoiled brat about not getting what you want,” He sneered as he snorted out, “Isn’t this what this is about? You throwing a tantrum over me? Spending time with my wife?” 

Jungkook’s nose twitched a little and his glare became chilled once more as he spoke, “More than anything I hate people who take advantage of those who cannot defend themselves. You’re taking advantage of someone who’s never held a sword in their life. That is cowardly to me.” 

Seohyun puffed up as she spat back, “This was never about you Prince. I think it’s time someone gave the Princess a warm welcome to Penumbra, I’ll give you a month to train her, and then?” She turned to you as she declared, “Then we go to the ring.” She shrugged as she turned around walking away. 

Not a soul spoke even after she had left the gardens, everyone’s eyes on you as you lowered your gaze, feeling embarrassed and not wanting to be under the spectacle any longer. Pulling away from Jungkook you covered your face as you hurriedly walked. Everyone at the table had smiles and you heard snickers as your vision began to blur.

Just when you thought things were going in your favor, you found yourself once again, back to square one. 

Buried under the covers you sniffled, who knew how many hours you hid under the warmth of your bed, you didn’t care. You were still mourning the fact that you would have to duel with Seohyun and even with a month to train, there was no way you would be able to have a chance at winning against someone with a lifetime of experience. 

Upset began to bubble in you once more as you rolled over in your covers, you didn’t even know how duels work and what to make of it, other than the possibility of them allowing death and you dying. And even if they didn’t. 

Your eyes began to water, that probably wouldn’t stop her anyways. Fear had seized you at the idea as you curled into yourself, pulling the blanket over your chin. How were you even supposed to duel Seohyun when you couldn’t even hold a sword? You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. But you didn’t want to be a coward either…

Back when you first married Jungkook, you had no idea Penumbra was uniquely its own culture with its own celebrations and traditions, it felt naive of you now to not even think nor prepare for as much. You had no idea the trials you would face before you had married him, let alone something of this nature...

The sound of a knock at your door drew you from your thoughts as you sniffled once more, shifting as you rolled to face away from the door, your silence caused the knock to sound louder as you sighed, yanking the covers above your chin as you shouted, “I don’t want to talk Wheein!” 

The noise quieted as you sighed, curling up as you closed your eyes before jumping at the sound of the door opening, your jaw clenched as you sat up, “Wheein! I told y-” Your lips fell open at the sight of your husband who leaned against the doorway, as if just waiting for your reaction. 

You were suddenly hyper aware of the tear streaks on your cheeks as you hurriedly went to rub them away, turning away from him in embarrassment as you mumbled, “You should’ve told me it was you.” 

You collapsed back against the bed as you heard a tongue clack, “Somehow, I doubt that would’ve changed your response.” You heard the door shut as you hmphed. Grabbing the blanket as you pulled it over your head, “You look like a child.” You heard a snort this time as the weight of the bed shifted a little. 

“Are you here to just make fun of me? Because if so I am really not in the mood to cry anymore today!” 

While on any other occasion you could do this, you weren’t feeling up to it today, not right now. Not after what had happened this morning. You heard a sigh, “While I know you enjoy tormenting yourself by making me out to be a devil I promise I’m not that heartless.” You still had reservations on that statement…”Thankfully unlike you I’m not petty,” Your lips parted as you pulled the blanket off your face to glare at him. Not petty!?

Not that petty? Had he just magically forgot all of the spiteful words he had spoken to you in the earlier month?

His back was facing you as he sat on the edge of the bed, but you could’ve sworn you saw a smile on his lips briefly, “I’m here to apologize.”

You frowned as your brows pressed together, a little wary of his words as you slowly sat up, Jungkook quickly spoke as he noticed your silence, “For Seohyun, of course.” You deflated a little as you rolled your eyes, “She’s always been hot headed, ever since we were children.” You could see a small smile on his lips as if he was reminiscing, “She gets jealous quite easily.” 

You slumped against the headboard, something bitter swelling in your chest at his smile while talking about her as you mumbled, “I noticed.” 

Why was he talking about her so…! So affectionately!? As if he...You ignored the swell in your chest at the realization he was obviously holding her in high regards, perhaps he even did plan on marrying her before you ever came into the picture. 

Jungkook paused for a second before shifting to look at you, his gaze more serious now- maybe he realized just who he was talking to, “Seohyun wouldn’t admit it if her life depended on it, but...Well it’s my fault she challenged you to begin with. After some contemplation I’ve decided to train you for this duel.” 

You looked away from him as you folded your hands, Jungkook was...going to train you? You had mulled over your options of hours now, much like he you supposed and you had come to the conclusion that you didn’t have much other options besides fighting her. 

But...your hesitancy wasn’t the fact that he wanted to train you but...Were you both really in a place to be able to tolerate seeing one another on a daily basis now…? It had been two weeks and...Had your words struck something in him that made him want to try? 

“We’ll meet every morning at dawn and train for an hour to two depending on my schedule for the week.” Jungkook’s voice was always rigid and formal when he spoke to you, much like right now and briefly you couldn’t help but wonder if he ever spoke differently to her. 

“I won’t sugar coat it for you princess. The way of the blade isn’t easy,” Jungkook’s eyes darkened a little, some of his own cold reservations of you clearly making it’s return, “You may be quick witted but you’ll have to make an effort for this to work.” 

Something bubbled inside you that wanted to spite him- it wasn’t the same as before though, you didn’t want to argue with him- but to spite him to prove you could do this, “Well it isn't me you’ll have to worry about. Are you sure you’ll be a dedicated teacher?” You raised a brow, a semi playful quip in your tone.

Jungkook’s chest suddenly puffed a little as his posture straightened as he spoke once more with a rigid tone, “I’ll have you know I train the royal guard myself.” 

You suddenly snorted at his stiff tone of voice, his expression faltered a little at the sound of your laugh. Covering your mouth you felt a little shy as you looked away from him, “It was a joke, Jungkook. I’ll try my best, but I am a beginner…” 

Jungkook’s lips parted multiple times and for the first time in the last two months of living in Penumbra, Jungkook seemed at a loss for words.

Clearing his throat he appeared a little embarrassed as he spoke, “Right, just show up outside the guards barracks tomorrow morning. We’ll begin at dawn.” You nodded as he got up and took his leave. 

You groaned as you sighed, twisting in your bed sheets as Wheein forced you out of bed, it wasn’t that you weren’t used to getting up early but, it had been an admittedly long while since there was a need. You didn’t exactly hold a lot of responsibility in the court and no one ever offered the invitation and when you had first arrived you wanted nothing to do with the court. 

Thus leading to your more unproductive lifestyle.

Still though, just before dawn? Did the man not ever sleep? You groaned again as you rubbed your eyes once more. 

“Come on Princess!” Wheein was more excited than you for this as you yawned, wordlessly sitting up in bed as you rubbed your eyes, “You should be excited!” She bounced a little as she folded your outfit out, “Not just anyone trains with the crowned Prince.” She quirked a brow as she smiled knowingly. 

“I’m his wife,” You replied dryly, grabbing the goblet that had been set out for you last night as you took a drink of water, “I’d hope he’d be willing to teach me.” You felt like you should’ve stated this with a little more pride but, well you wouldn’t lie and say your ego wasn’t a tiny bit pricked by that damn smile on his lips at the thought of Seohyun.

You had laid awake in the long hours of the night wondering why it bothered you so much, it wasn’t as if you even liked this man as a friend let alone a lover...And yet…! It still annoyed you, what was so great about Seohyun? 

She was an ill tempered, foul mouthed…! Impulsive woman that purposely goaded you into digging your own grave! How could he possibly…! Like her!? They were so opposite of one another it could’ve caused you whiplash.

You could feel your lips twitch a little as you heard Wheein make a noise of objection, “If he truly didn’t like you he wouldn’t have offered m’lady!” She pouted as you pulled your legs out of the warm blankets, rubbing your chilled bare arms as you shivered at the cold nip of air, “And he wouldn’t have defended you yesterday morning either, should I remind you he even called you his wife.” 

You crossed your arms more objectively at her snort, “Because I am his wife.” 

Of course he called you his wife, you didn’t take an oath to the cold hearted prick for him to just namelessly call you ‘woman’ your whole life together, though you dare say he might’ve done so just to piss you off at one time during the first week of your marriage…

“You two are hopeless your Highness.” You glanced up at her in confusion before she shrugged, saying no more as she helped you get dressed. You weren’t allowed to eat until after training and truthfully, you felt a little uncomfortable in pants, you had never worn any before.

Were you even allowed as a princess? You wondered briefly, the long waistcoat made you feel a little more comfortable and you wouldn’t lie, it was a lot easier to move around in. Why weren’t women allowed to wear pants anyways? You wiggled a little as you huffed.

The light was still blue outside and the sun had yet to make its appearance as you yawned trying to withhold a groan as Wheein gave you a reassuring smile, “Good luck Princess! I’ll pick you up once your lesson is finished. I’ll be in the royal kitchen helping prep breakfast if you need me for anything!” 

You whined a little but said no more, carefully walking up to the barracks where Jungkook stood, a fire started as he tossed a piece of wood onto it, “You’re early.” You jumped at his voice, he wasn’t even looking at you! 

“Good. We have lots to cover today.” Standing up he brushed off his hands as he turned to face you, eyeing you up and down in inspection as you shifted in your spot trying to not feel intimidated. 

You were well aware that you were in fact, in his territory right now. Not just in his Kingdom, but in his natural environment with weaponry. Eunoia was by no means a stranger to war but...well your father and his forefathers were considerably soft men, your father especially so- he didn’t favor bloodshed and often tried to negotiate his way out of fighting and he was very talented at doing so, might you add. 

You yourself always had a distaste for fighting as well, having never favored a blade as you felt anything, with enough diligence and quick wit, could be solved with words. But it was clear to you now, standing in front of your husband, that you needed to change the way you both looked at and approached this subject if you were to ever form a friendship with the man you were bound to the rest of your life as well as be accepted into Penumbra. 

Jungkook lead you down the slanted hill and into the training pit before he paused, causing you to nearly run into him before stumbling to step back, he held up a hand when you tried to follow him only for you to pause once more in confusion as he went to a stranded barrel off to the side and pulling out two...wooden swords? 

“The weight of a real weapon can cause all kinds of problems with your form but you need to be holding on to something for this to work,” Jungkook explained as he noted your confusion as he handed you the wooden sword which, truthfully, was much to your preference. Briefly, you couldn’t help but wonder if you could just use a wooden sword during a duel....Like...Seohyun...She couldn’t actually kill you...right? Right!? Just the thought at you frozen in your tracks in horror. Oh god, she was definitely going to kill you!

“Y/n?” Jungkook’s confused voice made you jump, he was a few feet ahead of you as he held up his hands as if asking what you were doing, “Are you focused now princess?” He huffed as he crossed his arms making you glare, “I told you if this was going to work to put in the effort.” 

“I’m here at dawn, well before my wake up time, so I apologize if I'm zoning out a little...” You replied defensively, swinging your wooden sword as you muttered, “Imagining the way Seohyun is probably going to put my head on a pike by- By summertime no doubt,” You flailed your hand as you huffed as you sighed hopelessly, “At least put my body in the gardens-” 

“She isn’t going to kill you,” Jungkook replied pragmatically as he put a hand on his hip, “But her chance is pretty high right now if you keep whining and not paying attention.” You sulked as you walked closer to him in compliance, “Good, now stand with your legs apart.” He whacked his sword against your thigh making you jolt, looking at him in insult as he raised his brows while shaking his head, “Go on, part them to line up with your hips.” 

“My what?” Your brows shot up in confusion, part your legs to line up with your hips.

Jungkook took a large breath as he calmed himself before he spoke, “Yes, a hip lengths apart is what we call it, too wide or too narrow of stance will make it difficult to block attacks without getting knocked down. Step one leg out.” Jungkook tapped your left leg with his wooden sword. 

Taking a step out he nodded a little, “Good. Foot placement is essential here, equal weight needs to be distributed through either side of your body or else you can become off balance mid swing or when you're defending. Little more on this side.” 

You were shifting your weight around trying to decipher his words as he tapped on your left thigh, leaning a little more that way he gave an approving nod, “Now bring your sword up, there are two ways to hold a sword, single hand, or two handed. We’re working with a single hand grip; typically it’s easier to both deflect hits and land blows on an opponent.” 

“Then why do some people use two handed?” You furrowed your brows, if one was obviously better why would some use the lesser option?

Jungkook’s lips quirked a little as he replied, “Some use much bigger weapons than that which require more strength to wield. It comes with it’s own set of advantages and disadvantages. One handed can also use shields in their other hand but they're typically not used in duals.” 

You frowned as you tilted your head, Jungkook paused his words as he looked at you for a long moment before he sighed solemnly and gave a nod as if remembering you don’t quite know all the customs, “Right…” He sighed, “Duals are...They can be friendly, seen as a gesture of honor and sport, but they’re typically seen as a challenge, especially among the court, it can be seen as a public display of challenging an authority. Shields are permitted but can be seen as cowardly and a display of fear of their opponent.”

You frowned as you listened to him intently, “We’ll see how you progress over this next month and from there i’ll determine whether you’ll need a shield or not.” 

“You have a lot of faith in me if you even think not having a shield is an option?” You quirked a brow.

“Oh I don’t, I’m just a good teacher.” Jungkook shrugged as you scoffed. And maybe he didn’t realize how insulting that sounded, or maybe he was really just that smug. Regardless he turned around with a dumb innocent expression on his face as he raised his brows, as if not understanding why you were reacting the way you were. 

“What?” He asked in genuine confusion. 

Men are so stupid…

The thought kept popping up in your head as you sighed, rubbing your face as you shook your head, “Nothing...So in shields are seen as cowardly, then what…? Even if I win it still won’t be looked as such because I had one.” 

Jungkook shrugged, his expression thoughtful as he shrugged, “Perhaps? It’s tough to imagine, people are considerably understanding to those who aren’t familiar with the way of the blade, I’d like to think they’ll be forgiving of you if they see you- above all else you- with a shield. I think that at least, again you wouldn’t be stuck in this situation if it weren’t for me.” 

A frown twisted on your face as you spoke without even thinking, “Why do you keep saying that?” Jungkook said nothing as he stared at you, as if looking for more explanation as you continued, “That you’re to blame when you aren’t? I don’t…” Your lips quirked a little as you spoke, “I feel like I’m missing something here as to why she challenged me…”

“Don’t play dumb.” Your gaze shot to the cold tone in Jungkook’s voice, his expression unfriendly as he spoke, “You know why she did it.” 

Jungkook scoffed at your silence as you stood there somewhat dumbfound at his words, something about the way he looked a little defensive on her behalf making you feel all the more lost and confused at his words…

Jungkook said in the court, duals were taken as an act of challenging authority but, you didn’t have any of that. You were just a mock piece on the chess board for looks. You didn’t understand why she would even want to duel you in the first place when it was so obvious nobody even liked you as it was. If she wanted to make a real display then she would have actually just dualed Jungkook. 

Jungkook looked a little soured now, his once patient demeanor wearing thin as he tucked his tongue into his cheek as he scoffed, “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” He now seemed annoyed as you let out a breath of air, now exasperated as to why you were being looked at like this. 

“How!?” You replied defensively and frustration was already beginning to liter through your body, every time you thought you made progress with this man he…! “Jungkook, I don’t know anyone or anything about this country! How the hell am I supposed to know what I did to upset her?” You felt frustrated at his annoyance, you were trying your best and you felt it was unfair for him to hold you to such a high standard! 

Let alone like this, you were only trying to understand how everything worked and now he was acting as if you were playing some kind of sick game with him that you were not!

“How?” Jungkook raised his brows as he let out a hollow chuckle something twinged with venom in his tone, tucking his tongue back into his cheek as he inhaled sharply looking as if he was very heavily debating on what he wanted to say.

“Act pitiful and victimize yourself as you want, but don’t act like you can’t ask around. Seeing as you haven’t figured out yet let me say it simply- she was my original fiance. The one I proposed too. Have you stopped to think Y/n that maybe- her challenging you has to do with the fact that you’re the reason I’m not married to her.” 

You couldn’t even look at him anymore, your chest puffed and it felt hard to breathe at his words. Of course you suspected but…! You didn’t actually realize they had been a couple on their own accord before...Still, his words stung. Regardless of what you knew, you had assumed that this was something that would remain unspoken between you both. 

“That isn’t fair Jungkook…” You finally spoke, your voice weak as you shook your head in disbelief at his words, he said it as if...as if he was angry at you, as if this was your fault and…

Suddenly everything made sense to you. Why he seemed so angry at you. He was upset with his own circumstances and up until this point he was unleashing it on you. You had made your own mistake and said your own hurtful words but more than anything you had never wanted this either! 

“But it’s the truth regardless.” Jungkook replied coldly, his eyes cutting into as if once again, you were his true enemy in the end, “Seohyun is going to make a grand show of you in the end, she wants to win to display that she was always the better choice for crowned Princess. That she was the better partner, could have been the better wife. Better at everything. Better than an outsider.” 

It hurt you more than you wanted to admit. So this was how he viewed you…? It was one thing back when you both had been at one another's throats, but now? He was going to say all of this to you now? 

“Then why even offer to train me!?” You cried out, hurt oozing from your voice as you spoke, “If she was the better, if- if she’s who you love, then why bother to help me out? Or is this a ploy of hers to sabotage me further? I don’t know what or who to believe anymore!” 

“Judge me all you like but don’t judge my honor,” Jungkook growled, “I offered to help because I actually pitied you for half a second. I may not like you but I will always help those who cannot help themselves.”  

You laughed.

You couldn’t do anything but laugh though your voice was far from humored as you shook your head in disbelief, “How insulting…” You spoke softly as your lips trembled, you couldn’t even hide the hurt on your face as you shook your head tenderly, “I’m sorry, okay?” Your voice softened a little as you glanced up to look at Jungkook, “I understand, I do. This? You? Never in my life would I have wanted to marry you. Call me a bitch serving the crown but there is one thing I understood the day I was told I was engaged to you. And it was that there are no happy endings in this world, Jungkook.” 

Your eyes watered in pain, the thought of your lovely country, the man you once loved, your family, all of things you loved so dearly that you had to leave behind for the sake of duty, “Nobody got what they wanted when we got married outside preventing a cataphoric war. I came to that acceptance the day I vowed to be your wife and I am sick and tired of being the target for your and every other godforsaken person's frustration!” 

Your teeth gritted in pain as you blinked back the tears, trying your best to not sniffle as you closed your eyes,  “I understand Seohyun’s pain just as I do yours, believe me I do. Nothing hurts more then being unable to be with the one you love,” Your heart ached at the memory of Seokjin, his playful jokes, his plush lips that always snuck a kiss when nobody was looking, closing your eyes once more you sighed as your head lowered, “But what’s the use in anger? All that did was hurt you and others. I can’t change her feelings for me and I can’t change your feelings for her, but the least you could do is understand that I am not your enemy Jungkook.” 

Your expression shifted to plead at the cold expression on his face as you spoke, “It was not me who broke you from your lover, this is an arranged marriage after all.” 

Something inside you felt so pricked and pained at the uttered words as your expression crumpled once more as you laughed a little brokenly, “I...I had actually hoped maybe, we could set aside our differences and at the very least be friends but…” 

You shook your head as a weak smile tugged on your lips wryly, “It’s clear you still have many feelings to sort out toward me, towards her, and perhaps the world. I’ll find another teacher meanwhile to help me with the duel but personally,” You finally met his cold gaze as you frowned, “I’d rather you just stay away from me until you’re ready to move forward. Thank you, for at least trying, but this isn’t going to work.” 

[bearyoongs]

hi hi hi, i absolutely love your writings </3 you post such fun and enjoyable content and i’m in love with that :( i’ve got a little suggestion for you (please don’t feel pressured to take it if it seems hard though !!) if your requests are open <3 am i able to request a stray kids reaction to you apologizing and saying “i love you” during or after a heated fight? :') thank you so much, have an amazing week ! <3

thank you so much for the request and your kind words <3 I hope this is okay! I’m so sorry it took so long!

warning(s): explicit language

╰➤ stray kids reactions

you say "I love you" during a heated fight

『 chan 』

Would immediately stop talking and would look at you with an unreadable look on his face.

“Now? Really?” 

He’d still be slightly angry, but he’d soften after your words. 

“I love you too, but that won’t sort this out. Let’s talk calmly, okay?” 

After you two talk about the argument, he would make sure you knew that he loved you very much too, silently promising himself to take a more tranquil approach to future disagreements. 

『 minho 』

“Saying those words won’t get you a free pass out of this.” 

Minho would be one of those people who wouldn’t say “I love you” lightly or without meaning, so he wouldn’t want to associate the phrase with a harsh / heated moment. 

After the argument, when everything calmed down a bit, he’d sit down beside you. 

“I love you too, you know that right? But arguments need to be talked out before we can love each other properly, yeah?” 

『 changbin 』

He would stop everything and examine your face, trying to figure out if you really meant it or if you just wanted the fighting to stop. 

When he realized it was both, he’d pull you close to him, engulfing you in a hug. 

“I love you. I hate when we fight like this, it’s so stupid.” 

He would make you both a hot drink and sit down with you, trying to find the best solution to what you two were quarreling about. 

『 hyunjin 』

“I know you love me, but that isn’t our current topic of conversation.” 

Would probably continue to argue with you a little more until he noticed how worn out you looked. 

He’d eventually retreat to another room because he wouldn’t want to hurt you more. 

After a while, he’d come out to find you upstairs in your room, buried under the covers of your bed. 

“I’m sorry if I was too harsh, love. I do love you, I really do. Let’s sort this out now and go to bed on a good note, yeah? C’mon, let’s talk.” 

『 jisung 』

Would nearly break down on the spot. 

“Fuck, I love you too. Let’s not fight anymore, yeah? I’m so tired of it.” 

He’d make a mental note to sort the dispute out at a later stage, but would focus on your relationship and the emotions between you two at that specific moment. 

Cuddles. 

“We’ll talk about it in a more peaceful way after a nap, yeah?” 

『 felix 』

“Take a moment, then we’ll talk.” 

After you both calmed down a bit, you’d return to speaking about the dispute, but would focus on how stupid you two were being for fighting about something that could be easily resolved. 

“I love you so much, and small, stupid disputes won’t get in the way of that love, okay? I hate fighting, especially with you.”

『 seungmin 』

Would probably ignore the words until after the fight. 

“You’re an idiot for fighting with me, you know that, right?” 

He’d probably make you nervous because of his stone face and his cold gaze, but he wouldn’t mean to make you feel that way. 

He’d just be trying to figure out what to say.

“But you’re my idiot and I love you, so let’s forget about it for now. Let’s get dinner and pretend this never happened.” 

『 jeongin 』

Would feel conflicted. 

He didn’t want to fight with you, but he didn’t think sorting it out with “I love you” was the right solution. 

“I love you too, and I don’t want to lose you, so we need to sort this out properly, okay? Let’s keep our composure and relax a bit. We can’t talk like this.”

After you two calmed down and talked about it, he’d hug you tightly. 

“‘Let’s never fight like that again. That was scary.”

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Ch. 1)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Content Contributor: @baebae-goodnight​ (WHO MADE THIS PERFECTLY GORGEOUS MOODBOARD)

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU 

Word Count: 7,003

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.    

Thumbs hooked beneath the straps of your backpack, you paused on the sidewalk to tilt your head up. A sign reading Russet Ballet Academy hung from the building above, detailing the location of the next four years of your life.

It was the dream of many to attend and yet, few ever came to walk these halls as its students. Only eighty dancers were accepted to their dance program each year; the fiercest competition from all over the globe.

Somehow, you were amongst them.

The day you’d received your letter still felt like a dream but here you were, standing under the sign and knowing you’d made it. You stared at it a second longer before your mom came up and squeezed your shoulder.

“Wow,” she said, also reading the sign. “Seems like just yesterday you fell on your ass at Hall of Fame, huh?”

“Mom!” You laughed, the moment effectively broken. “Why would you bring that up now? I was twelve!”

She grinned and glanced in your direction. “You just had such enthusiasm! Picked yourself right back up and kept going. I should’ve known then you would make it.”

Despite yourself, you felt your insides soften again. It sounded like something your old dance teacher, Miss Katie, would’ve said. She’d always had faith in your perseverance and ability. You hadn’t started competing until the age of eleven; in dancer years, this was considered late and yet, you grew quickly through the ranks. By the time you reached high school, you were known on the competitive dance circuit as one of the elites.

Your parents joked it was your contrariness that kept you going. Growing up, you’d never much liked hearing the word no – something your parents applauded and bemoaned in equal measure.

Hiking your bag higher, you turned to face your parents. “So, are you going to take a photo, or what?”

“A photo! Great idea.” Scanning the sidewalk, your mom found your dad. “Honey, come here! Honey! Hone – honestly,” she huffed, waving both arms overhead.

Finally, your dad noticed and hurried in your direction. “Have you seen the gargoyles?” he asked, clearly impressed. “The architecture of this building is incredible, Y/N. When you get settled, maybe you can find out for me who the builder –”

“Take the picture, darling,” said your mom, handing over the camera.

She moved beside you, hugging you tight enough to make breathing difficult. You were happy though, smiling brightly as your dad took the shot.

“Okay, okay,” you said, laughing after the tenth frame. “I think you guys have embarrassed me enough for one day, don’t you?”

“Debatable,” said your dad, grabbing your luggage to haul up the steps. “We’ve got to make up for all the days we won’t see you. You’re not coming home until the holidays, right? That’s a long time!”

At this, a small pang went through you and you nodded. He was right – your parents lived a plane flight away and you’d never been the wealthiest of households. You wouldn’t be able to return until three months from now, which was the longest you’d ever spent away from your family.

It was such a strange thought, you didn’t know what to do with it. As crazy as it was, since they often drove you crazy, you hadn’t ever lived far away from home and the thought made you sad. It was just another way your life was being upended.

As you entered the arched door of Grace Hall, your soon-to-be home, your head spun from the newness. In your small suburban town, you’d had a reputation. The best dancer, the straight-A student, the person with her act together – never mind what you did behind the scenes to make it appear that way. The point was, you were known.

Here, you were just another small fish thrown into the big pond. It wasn’t that you were a bad dancer – far from it – but here, everyone was the best. Everyone at Russet had passed the same bar, which meant the stakes would be higher than ever before. You had never danced under that kind of pressure and scrutiny.

Stomach churning, you once again wondered if you’d made the right choice. You’d been accepted into other Universities; ones without dance programs where you’d have a more secure future. Instead, you chose to pursue dance as a career.

It wasn’t that other majors were without risk or difficulty, but there was a certain physical and mental exhaustion associated with dance which most found to be a deterrent. You once had a teacher who said if you needed to think twice about dancing, you shouldn’t do it. Way too many people never made it to the top; if you weren’t prepared to make sacrifices for what you loved, then this wasn’t the path for you.

At the time, you hadn’t thought twice about your decision, but that was before the events of Senior year.

A week before the final dance competition of the season, your tendonitis grew so bad, you physically winced whenever you landed a jump. Your teachers finally caught on and forced you to see a doctor, who forbade you from dancing in the upcoming competition.

It had been the last one of the year; your final chance to compete and show everyone – well, someone – why you were considered the best. You went to the competition despite your injury, determined to cheer on your teammates, but something hollow settled into your chest as you watched, realizing your time on the stage would someday come to an end.

You realized how tenuous your body was and, by extension, your career. Of course, you’d known this before, but it had been your first time to face this knowledge head-on and it scared you. Tendonitis wasn’t something that went away, although it was a condition you could work through and manage. Still, your body would only get worse and although you knew you wanted to dance, now you had doubts.

As you stepped through the doors of Russet Academy, these doubts reared their ugly heads once again.

Hiking your bag further up on your shoulder, you plastered a smile on your face and pushed these thoughts away. That was last year. You were better now, fully recovered and approved to dance by your doctors. So long as you took care of yourself, there was nothing to fear.

More suitcases waited in the trunk of your dad’s rental car, but your roommate had already texted her arrival, so you headed upstairs. Noelle Carmichael was from California, a Sagittarius, had begun dancing at the age of three and loved caramel popcorn more than anything else in the world. All this information had been thrown at you during your first text conversation, which might have seemed like a lot, but after a summer of talking, you knew it to only be Noelle. 

As you lugged your bag from the elevator �� the singular service vehicle had been repurposed for move-in – a head poked itself from a room down the hall.

“Y/N?” 

When you nodded, your roommate whooped and leapt into view. 

“It’s me – Noelle!” she called.

She rushed to help you with your bags, chattering excitedly as you walked down the hall. Noelle’s move-in time had been yesterday, and her parents had already left, but they couldn’t wait to meet you the next time they visited.

You found her enthusiasm contagious and before long, most of your worries had been banished to the sidewalk outside. It felt like you’d known Noelle for much longer than the few months you talked over the summer. This greatly relieved you, since you’d been worried about making friends at Russet Academy.

Dancers weren’t always the friendliest, especially when it came to institutions like this. So much of dance was competition – competition for that ranking, that medal or that place in that dance company. It was hard to make teamwork a priority when so much of success was judged on the individual.

Noelle didn’t seem to think this way though, which helped ease some of your fears. You had both entered the ballet track at the Academy. You weren’t naturally a ballerina, but Russet recommended those who wanted to go into jazz or contemporary start with ballet. Smaller majors existed for tap and hip-hop, but those had never been your forte.

Meeting Noelle was enough for minimal tears to be shed while saying goodbye to your parents later that night. Your dad ended up crying, which of course set you off, but by the time they got in their rental car and turned the corner, you’d managed to mostly pull yourself together.

Noelle remained in the dorm while you said goodbye, lounging on her bed with a book in her lap. 

You paused on the threshold of your room when you returned, taking in the strangeness of all your surroundings. Your old comforter on a lofted bed, your laptop perched on a strange desk, your clothes hung in an armoire. It was both strange and familiar; the sight of it brought tears to your eyes.

“Oh, no!” Noelle said, hopping down from her bed. “Don’t cry, Y/N! I only just stopped crying this morning. If you cry, then I’ll cry and people will think something terrible is happening here.”

You laughed when she hugged you, hugging her back in the middle of the room. It was comforting to know someone else felt this way; after a moment, you pulled back to wipe your eyes.

“I’m fine,” you groaned, shaking your head. “Damn. I didn’t expect that.”

“I know.” Noelle smiled. “I was so excited to leave I forgot that deep down, I’m a gigantic baby. Huge mama’s girl.”

Stifling a laugh, you crossed the room to grab a Kleenex.

“If it helps,” Noelle said. “Some girls down the hall are having people over tonight. We could go and meet some of our classmates before orientation starts tomorrow. It should be fun!”

“That does sound fun,” you said, and you meant it.

A few hours later, you found yourself seated on equally horrible carpet in a room down the hall. Several other freshmen were seated beside you, sharing similar parting stories, which lifted your spirits.

“I bawled,” said Irene, clutching her chest. “I’ve had this giant countdown in my calendar all summer. I crossed each day off with a marker and then suddenly, I’m here and I miss my sister. Pathetic.”

Noelle laughed. “I’m just glad I was part of yesterday’s move-in day. It means only half of you heard my gigantic breakdown last night. Mad embarrassing. Pretty sure I told my brother I love him.” She shuddered. “He’s only supposed to get that honor on his birthday!”

The room cracked up, another girl chiming in and you swirled your cup, happily buzzed from the drink in your hand. You hadn’t had alcohol many times before, but it seemed appropriate for a night of new experiences. No one here was drinking to get drunk, since orientation began tomorrow, but some social lubricant tended to help in times like this.

Ballet wouldn’t start until Monday morning, so this was your last chance for a while to indulge. It wasn’t that you couldn’t drink during the semester, but you’d learned the hard way hangovers made for terrible class the next day. You’d only done it once before deciding to ban the idea of alcohol the night before dancing.

The other girls on your floor did their best to put you at ease. Aside from your roommate, there were five other girls who’d congregated in the room.

Ari and Jasmine lived in the room you all sat in. Ari lived within driving distance of the city, had the largest collection of gel pens you’d ever seen and had started dancing later in life (at age ten), which made it all the more impressive that she’d gotten in. Jasmine was from a tiny city in the south and was also a studio dancer; you recognized her the moment she spoke, having run into her as a teacher’s assistant at a dance convention you went to.

Also present were Irene, a ballerina from Chicago and Lia, who was on the hip-hop track. They were also roommates and although you probably wouldn’t have many classes with Lia, orientation tomorrow would be the same. As you got to know them better, the bubble of trepidation in your chest slowly deflated. Everyone here seemed nice – intense, but not as though they were out to get anyone.

As though conjured into being by your very thought, a girl appeared in the door.

She was tall, slim and had her hair pulled back in a French twist. Everything about her screamed ballerina, from her light blue warm-ups to her arched expression. The moment she appeared on the threshold, several people in the room quieted.

Noticing this, you glanced at her with renewed interest. It seemed the girl’s reputation preceded her, but you honestly had no idea who she was. Rather than introduce herself though, the girl merely sighed.

“I thought I heard something,” she said, her tone piqued.

Forcing a smile to her lips, Jasmine rose from the floor. “Hey, Sabrina!” she said, making her tone bright. “We were just getting to know one another. Did you change your mind about coming? We have room if you want to join.”

Despite her forced smile, you detected a glimmer of want beneath Jasmine’s words. Clearly, this Sabrina was considered a big deal. Jasmine’s hopes were immediately crushed the second Sabrina opened her mouth.

“No, thanks,” she said, her gaze sweeping the room. “I need to get to sleep soon. I want to wake up early and get in a quick barre before breakfast.”

Noelle, seated beside you, stared at Sabrina in amazement. “You already have access to rooms?”

Sabrina turned; a faint, amused smile crossed her lips. “Yeah. I went to Russet Prep. I’ve known most of the teachers here for years.”

Hearing this, your stomach sank to the floor. You’d known, of course, there was a feeder school into Russet Ballet Academy. You’d received the same audition letter many years ago, but the cost and distance had been too much for your family to consider.

While you’d understood the fact that you’d be amongst great dancers, you hadn’t thought specifically about Russet Prep ballerinas. Sabrina’s presence instantly dampened your mood, since the way she glanced at you confirmed what you already knew. 

She had a leg-up, she knew it and she wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

Leaning back on the futon, you slowly sipped your drink. “Did you just come here to say that?” you asked. “Or did you want something else?”

Multiple heads turned to face you. Irene’s lips twitched and beside you, Noelle let out a laugh. Based on their reactions, you got the feeling that Sabrina wasn’t very well-liked by her peers. 

Smile vanishing, Sabrina met your gaze. “That was all,” she said. “Just wanted to ask if you could keep it down. Some of us are trying to take this opportunity seriously.”

With that, she turned and stalked from the room. The door slammed shut behind her and silence lingered – until Noelle snorted and others began to laugh.

“Some of us are trying to take this opportunity seriously,” Noelle mimicked, rolling her eyes. “Give me a break. Like we all didn’t bleed into our pointe shoes to be here.”

The rest nodded in agreement and slowly, the conversation shifted to other topics. Although you joined in, uncertainty lingered in the back of your mind. It seemed some of dance’s cattiness had followed you after all. You weren’t truly surprised by this; after all, you were barely three months older than you’d been in high school. It was too much to expect people to become adults overnight.

Still, at least there was one cause for celebration this evening. The fact that you’d arrived at Russet meant you no longer had to compete against your most fierce rival.

For the next four years, Park Jimin, utter bane of your existence, would be nowhere in sight.

Early the next morning, you stood in line for registration at Danley Hall and awaited your schedule.

“Honestly.” Noelle stood on her toes to peer down the hall. “Why do they insist on handing these things out in person? We could easily get them online and skip all this nonsense.”

“We need to take our ID card photos,” you pointed out. “But yeah, it sucks. You’d think they could’ve at least assigned us time slots.”

“Dancers.” Noelle shook her head. “Great at conceptualizing abstract choreography – not so great at administrative tasks.”

You laughed, facing forward as the line started to move. It stopped shortly thereafter, as did you, rearranging the bag on your shoulder. You recognized several people from last night and waved hello to them all, receiving greetings in turn.

When your phone vibrated in your pocket, you jumped in surprise. Pulling it free, you smiled when you saw the name of your boyfriend.

“Oooo.” Noelle peered over your shoulder. “Who’s that? Boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” you laughed, swatting her arm as you opened his text. “It’s my boyfriend, Finn.”

“Finn’s a good name.” Noelle moved forward in line. “Strong. Noble. Damn, though – are you two doing long distance? Brave souls.”

“No – thank god. Finn’s at Redfield University. His orientation was last week, so we’re planning to meet up later tonight.”

“Redfield? That’s so close!” Noelle gushed. “Wow, you two are so lucky. And Redfield is a great school, too. I wholeheartedly approve.”

“Well, as long as you do,” you laughed. 

“What’s he saying? Wishing you luck with registration?”

“That, and asking where I want to get dinner tonight.”

“Sickeningly cute. I’d be jealous if I weren’t such a great person.”

You snorted, about to respond when someone called your name.

“Y/L/N, Y/N?”

Head jerking up, you saw a man at the office waving you forward. It seemed your time had finally come.

“That’s me!” you said, stepping from line.

The first stop at registration were two, tiny desks set before the main office. Past these, you could see someone finishing up their student photo. A bright flash went off, momentary blinding as you winced and faced forward.

“Here you go!” you said, placing your paperwork down. “Everything should be in order.”

The paperwork man barely nodded, grabbing the folder to rifle through. He seemed content to take his time and you quickly grew bored, glancing around the lobby. Much of your class was waiting in line, looking amusingly enough like a middle school dance. There hadn’t been general orientation yet, so most people had only met those in their (single-sex) dorm last night. Groups of boys and girls awkwardly faced off from across the hall.

While you waited, you began to size people up. It was unintentional, but you knew you’d be paired with someone for ballet and it seemed better to get a head start than not. Most people were unfamiliar to you, and you’d made no meaningful progress when a new voice said your name.

“Y/N?”

Freezing in place, you continued to stare at the hallway before you.

You knew that voice. It was one you could’ve identified in the depths of Tartarus itself – which honestly, was the only place you’d imagined hearing said voice again, since it belonged to Park Jimin. Top hellion of the underworld.

Slowly, you turned and had your worst suspicions confirmed.

Park Jimin stared back at you in the hall.

He wore a jean jacket, white t-shirt and golden sunglasses perched on his head, despite being indoors. Every part of his attire screamed pretentious, but no one around you seemed to notice. Instead, a buzz spread over the crowd as more and more people realized who you were talking to.

Before you could compose yourself, you demanded, “What are you doing here, Park?”

Jimin’s smile disappeared. Slowly, he walked forward and closed the distance between you.

“So, you’re not even going to try and be pleasant?” he asked, coming to a stop. Casually, he looked you up and down. “Surprised to see you here. Thought you’d stopped dancing, or something.”

Subconsciously, your hands balled into fists. Jimin had a way of getting under your skin that no one else did – even though admittedly, you could’ve just said hello. You didn’t have to act like he was the anti-Christ, even if he was.

“I didn’t stop dancing,” you said to him through gritted teeth. “You know that perfectly well.”

Jimin shrugged. “How was I supposed to know that? The last time I saw you, you were limping around like you were on your last legs. I just assumed.”

“I… was not limping,” you said with as much dignity as you could muster.

“Weren’t you on crutches?”

“My doctor made me use those!”

“Aha!” Jimin grinned, triumphant. “So, you were injured.”

“I had tendonitis,” you shot back. “Hardly fatal, Park. I’m fine now.”

“Right.” Jimin glanced at your feet. “Hope it doesn’t come back.”

From anyone else, you might’ve taken the words at face value, but this was Jimin. He’d never wished for your success before, so it would be foolish to imagine otherwise now.

Gaze hardening, you took another step forward until you stood nose-to-nose. Well, nose to chin was more like it. Jimin had grown since you first began competing against one another. You remembered a time when you both were the same height. This had once been a source of great amusement for you, choosing to stand directly before him at awards ceremonies.

You opened your mouth to tell him off when the paperwork man said your name again.

“That’s me!” you blurted, spinning around.

Jimin would have to wait, you decided as you strode forward. The paperwork man looked at you in alarm, clearly not used to having such enthusiastic participants.

“Uh, I know,” he said slowly. “You confirmed your name earlier. The photographer is ready,” he added, nodding towards the room Jimin had vacated.

Cheeks burning, you accepted your paperwork and nodded. Although you purposefully didn’t look at Jimin as you left, you could feel him smirking at you from behind.

Refusing to give him the time of day, you brushed past – or you would’ve, but the space was too small for dramatics. You nearly elbowed him in the spleen as you went, forced to squeeze against the wall in an undignified fashion.

Still, you didn’t look back as you entered the ID office. Some of your anger became transparent in your photo-taking, though – this much was obvious when you were handed your ID. Staring at this in horror, you remained frozen in the hall when Noelle finished and joined you.

“Oh, shit,” she said, glancing at your ID. “I feel a lot better about my photo now.”

“Hey!” you said, hand curling around the photo.

Despite this, you laughed, since she was right. On a scale of model to mug shot, your ID was definitely on the latter end.

As you walked away, you shook your head and shoved the ID in your bag. In the corner of one eye, you could see Jimin lingering while he talked with other students. You recognized no one in his group, except for a guy you thought you’d seen on YouTube. Hope on the Street, or something. Probably on the hip-hop track.

“Seriously, though.” Noelle looked at you sympathetically. “What happened? Photographer tell you he was going to murder your family?”

“Ugh, no,” you groaned. “Just got in my own head.”

“Uh-huh. And the fact that you were talking to Park Jimin right before had nothing to do with it?”

Blinking, you glanced at her in surprise. “You saw that?”

“Kind of.” Noelle looked a bit guilty. “I mean, it’s hard not to notice Park Jimin wandering the halls.”

You couldn’t help but scowl at this.

It was unprofessional, but your feud with Jimin went back so far, it was hard for you to be completely impartial. Your rivalry had begun when you’d both been picked to demonstrate the combination at NUVO dance convention and Jimin had tripped you while in the front row. He’d apologized afterwards, claiming ignorance, but you’d seen enough of his dancing by then to know Jimin didn’t make mistakes.

He’d tripped you on purpose.

Jimin was known on the competitive dance circuit, like you, but he had an almost cult-like following on YouTube and TikTok. Rumor had it, he’d been asked to join Ariana Grande on tour the previous summer, which was why you’d thought for sure you were rid of him. It seemed this was no longer the case.

“Yeah,” you grumbled as you neared Jimin in the hall. “He’s here, alright.”

Noelle hid a smile. “You don’t like him.”

“He’s an ass.”

“Yeah, he does,” said Noelle, gazing wistfully at his butt as you passed.

“Noelle!” you snorted. “That’s not what I said.”

“Huh?” Blinking innocently, she returned to you. “Oh, you said – oh. Sorry. Though you said something different.”

The smile she gave was incorrigible though and, despite your best interests, you laughed.

“I mean, he does have a nice butt,” Noelle argued. “Come on, Y/N. You have to admit that,” she continued once you were out of earshot.

“Hadn’t noticed.”

“Liar.”

“I mean, he’s a dancer!” you sputtered. “We all have nice butts.”

“Valid counter-argument,” Noelle said as you walked outside. “But seriously, he’s not a good guy?”

Paused on the sidewalk, you turned to glance at the building. Danley Hall rose above you; the location of class every day for the foreseeable future. Some of that now felt tainted by the prospect of seeing Jimin every day, as well.

With a sigh, you met Noelle’s gaze. “No,” you said at last. “We were rivals all throughout high school and believe me, there aren’t enough terrible superlatives to describe Park Jimin. He’s the most annoying, most childish, least humble–”

“–biggest suck-up, least trustworthy, mind-numbing idiot,” you finished, stabbing your salad with a fork.

Finn laughed at you from across the table. By this point, your feud with Jimin was old news to him. Shaking his head, curly brown hair flopped into his gaze.

“Damn, Y/N,” he said sympathetically. “That sucks. Can’t believe that jerk had the audacity to follow you to Russet. Sounds to me like he can’t get enough of you.”

Ignoring this, you rolled your eyes. “Believe me, it’s not that. Park Jimin doesn’t care about anyone but himself. It’s just Russet, you know? The most prestigious dance academy in the country. I just don’t understand how I didn’t know this,” you sighed, still troubled by the thought. “How come I didn’t know he’d be in the freshman class?”

“I don’t know.” Finn shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t have a Facebook?”

Most of the freshman class had connected on Facebook, at least before someone made a What’s App chat for the group. Finn was probably right about Jimin not giving out his social media.

 “That’s probably true,” you grumbled. “But still.”

Finn laughed at your expression. Reaching across the table, he squeezed your hand in his. “Hey,” he said gently. “You beat him for what – four years? So, this is just another four years of putting him in his place. You’ll be fine.”

He was right, although in all honesty, Jimin had won about fifty percent of the time against you. It was one of the reasons you’d pushed yourself so hard in high school.

“You’re right,” you said, somewhat mollified.

“Of course, I am,” Finn said, letting go of your hand. “You’re talking to a man who put his loft bed together alone. By hand.”

You looked at him in alarm. “Did you at least use the manual?”

“Please, Y/N. Men don’t use manuals. We don’t believe in them, much as we don’t believe in cleaning, cooking, or coming in second.”

“Gross,” you groaned, throwing a cherry tomato at him. “Worst ad ever for the male sex. Besides, it’s not true – I beat Jimin in dance plenty of times.”

“Oh, come on,” Finn laughed. “He doesn’t count.”

Something about the way he said this made you sit a bit straighter. Finn resumed cutting into his steak, but you continued to stare at him across the table.

“What do you mean by that?” 

Finn looked up in surprise. “Well, you know. It’s not like he’s super manly.”

You stared at him, bewildered.

“I mean, he wears tights, Y/N.”

At this, your eyes narrowed. It wasn’t like you were Jimin’s biggest fan – you despised him, actually – but Finn’s argument was just stupid, even if he meant it as a joke.

“And?” You tilted your head. “He also bench-presses women above his head for fun. Are you being serious? Just because he –”

“Whoa, wait – I was kidding,” Finn said, looking stricken. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just meant it as a joke, you know, since you hate the guy. Truce?”

You hesitated, still miffed, but ultimately deciding it wasn’t worth it. Finn truly looked sorry and this was Jimin, after all. Not that this made it better, but sometimes you grew tired of lecturing your boyfriend. Sometimes, it was just easier to let things go.

“I – yeah,” you said after a long pause. “Fine. Truce.”

“Come on.” Finn smiled and reached for your hand again. “You’re not really mad, are you?” He looked hopefully at you from beneath his curls. “Jimin’s the worst. What’s got you this upset?”

Sexism and toxic masculinity, you wanted to say, but he was right. This was Jimin and you hated that guy. It felt kind of weird to want to defend him to your boyfriend.

Still, though. Finn’s comment was annoying; it was one thing for you to insult Jimin. You did it based on Jimin’s merit, his talent, and the way he kept beating you. You’d never once insulted Jimin because of his gender. In the oddest of ways, it felt like your boyfriend had insulted you when he put down male dancers.

“I’m just annoyed by the whole situation,” you said at last, settling on a half-truth. “I hate the fact that Jimin won our bet.”

Finn nodded in sympathy, settling back in his seat to eat the rest of his meal.

You stared at your salad, no longer as hungry as you had been before. Remembering the bet had thoroughly ruined your appetite.

The bet had been made Senior year, a consequence of years of competition with no real declared winner. Jimin had been the one who suggested it, albeit after you goaded him into it. 

It had been your first competition of the season and you’d taken home the top trophy – First Overall in the Senior solo category. Jimin had come in second and when you met backstage, both holding your awards, you’d come to a stop to size one another up.

“Nice trophy,” Jimin said, his tone dripping with derision.

“Right?” Turning it over, you examined it. “Not sure where I’ll put it, though. My shelves at home are pretty full.”

“I think you’ll be fine,” Jimin said. “Competition is pretty stiff this season. I doubt you’ll win again.”

“Are you referring to yourself as my competition, Park?”

“Who else?”

“I wouldn’t worry about me,” you said, stepping closer. “After all, I beat you today. I can do it again.”

“Really?” He smirked. “What competitions are you going to this season?”

You told him, listing them off one by one without looking away.

Jimin listened and nodded. “I’ll be at four of those. How about a bet, then? Whoever wins First Overall at three of the five competitions declares themselves the winner.”

“Hm. What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” 

You paused, considering the implications of such a bet. “I don’t get it, though. What does the winner win?”

“Uh, our rivalry? Bragging rights for eternity? Pride? Take your pick, Y/N.”

“Pride,” you said with a snort. “Like you have any of that.”

“I don’t. Let me win it.”

You had to clamp your lips together to keep from laughing; it would’ve ruined your image to laugh at your declared enemy’s joke.

“Alright, fine,” you said with a shake of your head. “But here’s what I want in return – are you listening, Park?”

“Trying to.”

“At the end of this season – when I win – I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me I’m the better dancer.”

Jimin’s smile widened. “And what if I win?”

“Impossible. But if you do,” you allowed. “I’ll tell you you’re the better dancer. Deal?”

“Deal.”

And that had been that.

Shaking your head, you returned yourself to the present and took another bite of your salad.

“We were tied,” you said, the same anger returning. “Jimin had won twice and I had won twice. It wasn’t fair that he just got to win because I forfeited the last competition. I was injured!”

Finn nodded in agreement, just as he had every other time you’d told him this story.

Feeling a little bit guilty, you pushed your tirade aside and tried to focus on dinner. A bet from Senior year wasn’t really important in the long run. All that mattered was that you and Jimin had ended up at the same place.

Still – you couldn’t help but worry he’d pop up one day to make good on the promise. You still hadn’t told him he was the better dancer; it’d be even more humiliating to do so now, surrounded by all your classmates from Russet.

“Anyways,” you said with a sigh. “Enough about him. How was your day?”

Finn began a story about the supposed shower-caddy thief on his floor and you settled back, nodding and laughing at all the right times. Listening to Finn talk was comforting. He reminded you of home, of family dinners and long drives and date nights at the movie theatre.

Being in his presence felt like second semester Senior year – that invincible feeling of knowing where you were headed and feeling unstoppable. Having him in the city made the transition to Russet slightly less terrifying. He was your single known in a future of unknowns.

Well, except for Jimin. Jimin was also known, but in the opposite way. The thought of him was anything but calming; he made your jaw clench, blood pound and heart start to race. 

Even in looks, Jimin was the complete opposite of Finn. Where Finn had floppy, brown curls, Jimin’s blonde hair was usually swept back from his face. Finn was a light-hearted guy, always talking with his hands and laughing at nothing, whereas Jimin was nothing but intense. Every time you saw him at competitions, he was either practicing or sleeping. There was no in-between.

Finn took things one day at a time, which was something you envied. You always felt you were hurtling towards something, the days passing by too quickly to do everything that you wanted. It was part of what made you a good couple, you decided. Finn took things slowly and you sped him up.

Aside from his major, Finn’s future was wide open. He had no real direction other than to learn and have fun, which you also envied. As much as you wanted to have fun at Russet, you knew there wasn’t much time on your chosen career path. Each second counted and you couldn’t afford to waste one.

Starting that night.

Finn walked with you back to campus, dropping you off at Grace Hall with a lingering kiss. It became more heated than you anticipated, each of you panting when you broke things off to head inside. It had been a week since he’d come to Redfield, which was the longest you’d been apart since you lost your virginity to Finn at the start of the summer.

The sex had been good as of late, but Noelle was inside and you had no desire to hook up with your boyfriend in the bushes outside your dorm.

Once you’d returned, you collapsed on your futon and groaned when you read the schedule for tomorrow.

Noelle laughed from her bed. “Copson’s ballet class?”

“Copson’s ballet class,” you agreed with a sigh.

Vlad Copson was known, even to the incoming freshmen. He was a brilliant dancer and choreographer, but utterly terrifying as a teacher. Rumor had it every freshman was assigned to him their first year just to lower the class number from eighty to seventy.

You didn’t believe this, of course, but that didn’t keep your insides from churning. As you tried to fall sleep later that night, you realized with certainty that this was a beginning. Everything you’d done before now, everything you’d once achieved no longer mattered.

Everyone at Russet was on the same foot and all that mattered was what lay before you. Not at all cheered by this thought, you pulled up your covers and eventually fell asleep.

Vlad Copson turned out to be exactly what you had pictured; an immaculate man with a stern demeanor, wearing the exact same dress code he expected of his students.

He stood before the class the next morning, next to the stereo with both hands clasped before him. 

“Welcome,” he said, looking over his students. “I’m Vlad Copson, but you may call me Mr. Vlad for the duration of class. This is Ballet, Level 1.”

Approximately twenty faces stared back, caught in a mixture of certain awe and terror. You knew yourself to be among them, standing at the back of the room with Irene and Noelle. You’d been relieved to find them both in your classes, since there were two other schedules they could’ve been sorted into.

Unfortunately for you though, prep school Sabrina and hellion Jimin were also part of your schedule. They stood at the front on the opposite side and you did your best not to look at them, knowing no good would come from it.

Everyone in class was dressed exactly the same. The women wore leotards, buns, ballet belts, tights and pointe shoes. By this stage in your career, you were expected to do the entirety of ballet class on pointe. There had been much rosin-ing and banging of shoes before the class had started.

“Thank you to those who were on time,” Mr. Vlad said, casting a pointed glance at a boy near the front. Said boy had entered the room a few seconds after 8:00 AM. “For today, I’ll be lenient and let everyone stay. From now on though, class will start promptly on the hour. Those who aren’t ready will be asked to leave and come back when they can respect my time. Understood?”

A ripple of voices chorused yes.

“Good.” Mr. Vlad arched a brow. “You may have heard I’m a tough teacher. This is true. I am hard on my students, since you’re expected to be the best. Do you know how many applications Russet received this year alone? Nearly two thousand, and these were only from those who felt qualified to apply. Russet is a once in a lifetime opportunity, so I expect everyone who enters my classroom to act like it.”

Listening to him speak sent a bead of sweat down your neck. Although he didn’t say it specifically, you knew what Mr. Vlad meant. There were two thousand qualified individuals waiting to take your place if you failed. And that didn’t even include other students at the Academy, or even other dancers who waited out in the real world.

“For those who make it to the end, this will be a life-changing event.” Mr. Vlad paused. “There are teachers here who are far better than I – and I’m considered to be one of the best in the world. You’ll be pushed to your limits, but you’ll also grow at a tremendous pace. We gave you a spot because we believe in each of you. Prove us wrong, though,” he warned. “And that will be that.”

A lingering silence fell and in that quiet, you and Noelle glanced at each other. Again, you were glad for a friendly face. The entire speech would’ve been unbearable without one. 

The boy who’d been late was as red as a tomato, clearly embarrassed at having been singled out. You would’ve felt bad, except you knew it wouldn’t be the last time Mr. Vlad put someone on the spot. The attention could easily swing to you before the end of class.

“That’s enough chit-chat, I think.” Mr. Vlad turned towards the stereo. “We’ll start at the barre.”

No one moved and once he’d reached the music, he arched a brow. “Why is everyone still standing in the center, gawking? Barre!”

Had you been watching from outside, it might’ve seemed comical how quickly everyone scattered. You and Noelle chose a barre near the front, setting water bottles down and moving to stand at the center.

Placing yourself in first position, you turned your head and surveyed yourself in the mirror.

“Eyes on me, not the mirror!” Mr. Vlad called, forcing your gaze his way. “Before we get started, I’ll assign your ballet partners for the semester. You won’t do anything with them until across the floor, but I hate to disrupt our flow later on. When I call your name, raise your hand.”

Your heart sank as you turned to face forward.

This was something you’d known was coming. Ballet partnering was part of the set first year curriculum, but you’d been under the severe misimpression you’d be allowed to choose your own partner. Information on the process had been limited and you’d heard conflicting accounts from upperclassman before your arrival. Apparently, the teachers did something different each year.

“Ahn, Irene!”

Irene raised her hand, waiting awkwardly to hear her partner’s name.

“Olson, Brian! You two are partners.”

The red-faced late boy looked at Irene in alarm, then nodded. Irene nodded as well, lowering her hand and Noelle winced.

“Sucks,” she muttered beneath her breath. “Already paired with trouble.”

Privately, you agreed. It’d be unfortunate to be partnered with someone who’d already been singled out. You could only hope your assigned partner would be better than that. 

Mr. Vlad turned. “Y/L/N, Y/N!”

Your hand immediately lifted, waiting for what seemed like forever, until –

“Park, Jimin!”

 Author’s Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JIMIN! Thank you for reading 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre will be posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted. 

RAISE THE BARRE MASTER LIST  

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

So on the one ask about the yandere marriage. What would happen if the same characters darling escaped and actually tried fighting back? Probably won’t work out but they tried.

You are correct, darling tried. But it didn’t work, and lead to some harsh consequences.

Germany – The sweet and outgoing nature of his kitten made her seem docile. Luther didn’t count on her claws coming out when she was cornered.

Luther’s love for his kitten will cause him to gloss over her rough behavior at first. Every protest would be seen as a concern that could be swept under the rug. Yelling and screaming would be a lover’s quarrel. It wasn’t until her hand hit his face that Luther would realize that harsher methods would be needed.

Luther’s methods would start off simple, leaving Kitten in a sealed room for a day or two. Each time-out session’s length would be based on what the actions of rebellion would be. After trying this for a couple of months, and reaching isolation periods of two weeks, or having a weapon drawn on him, Luther would up the intensity.

Instead of just isolation, it would start to include chains, starvation, and darkness. These restrictions could eventually break Kitten down to the point of submission. If she hadn’t won Luther’s trust through fake affections and obedience first.

She would either escape through an open window or convince Luther to get extremely intoxicated to the point of passing out. At that point, she could walk right out the front door.

Once Luther realizes what happens, Kitten had better pray that she stays ahead. Luther’s methods are reminiscent of a hunting dog. Persistent and willing to use the pack. If Luther couldn’t find her within three days, then he’s calling the other axis members. More than likely, the help of the other members will corner Kitten quickly.

After she is found, Luther doesn’t wait. He swoops in the second she is away from witnesses and knocks her out. All Kitten manages to squeak out is a “Luther!” and then it's dark.

When she awakens, all she can feel is pain. Luther broke her dominant leg, and though it was well wrapped, she noticed a couple of other new things. The chains that once wrapped only around her ankles became a harness. It's not cutting off circulation, but it was tight. The room she’s in is small, stone, and cold. The only light in the room came from the crack in the door.

This would be the punishment for escape. Luther had been worried and at least this way he knows where she is. Maybe on their five-year anniversary, she could come out.

Sweden – Hustru was a ray of sunshine. Beautiful, bright, and also hot. Not just in terms of attractiveness, her warm cherry attitude would easily change to a blistering fury. This was amusing to Bernard, despite being from an area known for chills, this heat was welcoming.

Going the route of a true yandere, Bernard would hide you away, his logic would be that all newlyweds need some time. Though since it was done with approval from both of their bosses, it would not be in one of his unknown places, rather a newer and known spot, one designed just for her. It would be a simple house, out in the foggy Swedish forest. The outside would be reminiscent of a by-gone area, but the inside would be a mix of modern and medieval.

Bernard thought she enjoyed it until she started to fight against his ‘simple’ rules. Things like yelling and screaming would be funny to him. It was showing Bernard a side that he hadn’t yet witnessed, and he enjoyed that. Each action of rebellion would be recorded by him with joy. Until that is, hustru decided to get physical.

Bernard, like Luther, is fine with backtalk. Physical fighting though is a sign of distrust and the breakdown of his bond with his hustru. At this, hustru would be restrained and with his silver tongue, he would talk her out of attacking. His voice would sound joyful, but his eyes would communicate anything but that.

That would be her only warning. If hustru would attempt another attack, Bernard wouldn’t hesitate to break a limb. This should quell her fire for a time, and at that moment Bernard would coo at her. A sweet voice asking how she could be so clumsy, and how she should allow Bernard to take care of it.

Eventually, it would reach the boiling point she would make a break for it. Bernard would have been waiting for this moment. After all, he already takes people to his home, Bernard knows that it's only a matter of time before they run.

He would follow behind slowly, fully understanding what she would be looking for in an escape route. Each turn hustru would make, she could hear Bernard taunting her and making false promises. Whether or not hustru would realize it, Bernard would be herding her like a ewe to the slaughterhouse.

Bernard would end the chase by cornering hustru. It would either be by a cliff or a lake. Her look of panic would thrill Bernard, and he would descend upon her like a wolf. Their struggle would last until Bernard could give either a hard blow to the back of her head, chokehold, or hold her head in the water.

Holding her now unconscious body close, Bernard would take her away. She would not return to the nice home in the Swedish forest but instead would find herself in an unfamiliar place. It was Sweden’s oldest and best-hidden spot.

This one is underground and like a hobbit hole. Though the inside is much bigger and maze-like. Hustru will never find the door, but Bernard will always be there to give her affection.

Russia – Viktor knew marriage was an adjustment for both the husband and the wife. They were living together for the first time, and that meant getting used to each other’s constant presence. Well, at least for родная, since Viktor knew everything about her. Though, he was reaching the end of his patience with her insults.

Viktor would be willing to turn a blind eye to any rebellion for about a week or two. As I said, marriage is an adjustment, and he would be willing to give родная some time. After that period, and if she is still fighting their love, then Viktor sees reason to correct the bad behavior.

As a yandere Viktor is fine with the occasional comment. Should родная do it more often than that, or attempt to lay it on thick Viktor is gonna act. His punishments are always smart and calculating with the purpose of ensuring submission. It starts simple; restricting her time outside the home and the disappearance of specific privileges. Things like entertainment and basic comforts are the first to go. As time goes on, and if she chooses to escalate her acts, then it's only gonna get worse.

Physical attacks lead to periods of isolation, additional housework, and prevention of sleep. These three together would make it easier for Viktor to shape her behaviors and throughout ask her specific questions to see how she is coming along. If родная is smart enough, she will submit quickly to avoid seeing how far he is willing to take this.

If родная should escape, she then there must be an insurance that Viktor is not home. Once out of the home, then she has no choice but to take the alleyways. Viktor’s men are well-rounded and without a doubt one of them is well versed in hacking. Once found, whether it be via a security camera, or through the use of documents, Viktor will bring her home.

It won’t be a pretty moment. One, it would be in public and there would be screaming and begging. Two, no one would help, mainly because Viktor would appear not only her husband but provide papers to make it seem like she had some illness that required guardianship.

In the end, she’s in a basement tied to a chair. From there Viktor would work once again with his previous taming methods, this time though he would make sure it sticks.

England – Oliver was quite pleased on their wedding day. It was beautiful and perfect, but the events since that wonderful day have been troubling to him. His sweet little Dearie appeared to not be adjusting well to married life, but he’s got the tools to help.

Oliver has always had a need for control, and after the American Revolution, it had gotten worse. When Dearie fights, it’s almost like a flashback for him. He doesn’t handle it well, Oliver is willing to give a warning, after all, it is his wife. Though after not only having his warning ignored but receiving back-to-back threats and the claims that he is a monster, Oliver decides that his wife needs lessons on how to be a lady and housewife.

These lessons range from proper posture and basic manners to tea ceremonies and fancy dances. The length and frequency of the lessons depend on the severity of her crimes. Which to Oliver, each is extremely severe and must be taught out of his sweet little dearie.

For each lesson, Oliver has an enchanted device. For posture, a corset with celestial bronze and white silk. Each attempt of slouching or relaxing causes it to tighten like a python with a rabbit in its coils. Dance lessons involve iron shoes, not only do they burn when the dancing stops, but they can only be removed by Oliver. These are just two of many that he has.

Her escape would not be easy. Oliver’s flying bunnies, Chocolate and Strawberry would always be nearby. Waiting and ready to report. Her best chance of escape would be a moment of pure chaos. Whether she caused it or she had been blessed with it, this would be her only chance of escape.

Once he realizes that she had run away, Oliver would open his dreaded spellbook. The magic would flit and fly around him as he reads various spells. Creatures of all kinds would be summoned and with the leadership of his bunnies, they would spread across the land like the shadows that appear with the setting sun.

Eventually, she would be found. Caught and dragged away by the various shadows Dearie thought she had escaped.

Once Oliver had her back in his arms, an enchantment would be placed. Nothing too harmful, just something that would bind their souls together. Forever.

[poppunkporco]

the one where you walked me home (porco x reader fic)

the one where you walked me home (porco x reader)

contents: porco x fem reader, mentions of marcel galliard, childhood friends, best friends to lovers, fluff, pining, alternate universe - college/university, modern au, bisexuality, smoking, porco galliard-centric

rating: teen and up audiences

summary: When he walks her home that night, Porco realizes he might have feelings for his childhood best friend. He has no idea in hell how to deal with it but he tries.

word count: 5079

notes: i just thought it'd be interesting to try writing a modern au porco/reader fic in a more porco-centric POV. what i try to do here is explore how he deals with the soft sappy feelings of slowly realizing he's in love since he's pretty bad at emotions and even more so when it's not a [strong, violent type of feeling]

*fic loosely based on this song:

*this is also cross-posted on ao3

***

2:40 AM at an empty parking lot behind a 7-Eleven. The nearest lamp post flickers weakly with its dimming orange light as Porco sets down his third empty beer can on the concrete with a yawn.

“Hey,” he says, lightly shrugging the shoulder against which she leaned her head on. She doesn’t budge from beside him. He rubs the lethargy off his eyes.

They’ve been sitting on this parking block for almost three hours now-- since they left the gig hours ago at the pub just across the university. They’d just spent the past few hours ranting about midterms and how fucked up alienated labor is along with the absence of ethical consumption under capitalism-- and how everyone is forced to participate in it, talking about trips they’d like to make in and outside the city, their ideal lovers, and anxieties about the future. This was a thing they did now and then, usually on Fridays and Saturdays-- seeking a kind of cathartic escape from their hectic academic life in each other’s company. A friendly rendezvous they’d jokingly call dates every now and then.

He leans forward just enough to get a peek at her face, partly obscured by the mess of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. 

So she’s asleep.

His eyes dart towards their things lumped together beside her feet-- their backpacks sitting atop an A4-size sketchbook along with the last unopened beer can.

Porco idly clinks his finger against the top of the beer can he had just emptied as he breathes out a wistful sigh.

Somehow, she always reminded him of his long-gone brother. Not to say that she shared even a bit of Marcel's fairly easygoing yet charming demeanor. Because she was far from that. She was loud with a crude mouth-- more like Porco himself, really-- except that she at least was kinder, more pleasantly charismatic towards other people than himself. And in that way, yes, she did remind him of Marcel. But there were other things-- pastimes and memories that reminded him of his brother when she came to mind. They’d known each other even as kids. Back in middle school, Porco remembers how she’d visit their home on the weekends so the three of them could build a Lego city which Marcel himself had drafted on the back of one of his sketchbooks. Those two were always quite the artists even as kids-- Porco recalls fondly. His brother had been the one to introduce her to Porco during one of those weekends. He didn’t like it at first-- how Marcel would seem to pay more attention to her at times as they animatedly sketched parts of the city on paper in the middle of assembling the Lego blocks. He’d eventually learned to be tolerant of her presence at least as the weekends passed by and the city gradually came to life-- vast with skyscrapers, houses, trees, vehicles, and lamp posts. Porco distinctly remembers building a garden with her beside a house that resembled the Galliard residence. He had assembled the green pieces that resembled leaf blades onto the flat Lego board, while she topped them off with tiny colorful flower pieces. It was honestly quite fun and it became a thing he eventually looked forward to on the weekends with Marcel.

But all things come to an end and at times, at points where they feel like they’re not supposed to. Porco knows this well.

In Marcel’s old room, the city remains hidden away, unfinished.

It was on a rainy day when Marcel had met an accident on his way home with a schoolmate. Onlookers had witnessed him racing against the red light to push Reiner away from the path of an incoming vehicle.

Even if it was an accident, Porco despises Reiner after that. He'd decided to never talk to him after the incident but as fate would ridiculously have it, they’d meet again in high school-- as classmates, nonetheless, to his dismay.

It was after this same incident that Porco had grown closer to her-- the only other person who possibly knew Marcel almost nearly as he himself did. She knew about the city and she knew about his sketches, after all. In the first few days after his brother’s wake, they’d simply talk about Marcel as they walked home together after school and how they both missed him. Those walks home would eventually involve detours at the nearest Mcdonald’s where they’d get nuggets and buy a Happy Meal-- the ones that came in flimsy cardboard packaging printed with colorful cartoon mascots-- for the sake of getting the collectibles that came with them. It was a thing they never really grew out of. Even now, as college kids, whenever they’d find themselves eating out together at the nearest Mcdonald’s after their Philosophy classes scheduled on Tuesdays and Thursdays, they’d get themselves a Happy Meal, even if they sometimes earned puzzled looks from the cashier as they engaged in quick, petty quarrels as to which collectible they should get.

Soon, Porco feels her shuffle in her seat beside him, the weight of her head now off his shoulder. She rubs the sleep off her eyes with a yawn.

“...should go home,” she drawls, accidentally kicking one of the empty beer cans sprawled in front of them on the concrete. It lands right at the feet of a passer-by who in turn shoots her a cold glare before kicking the can back in her direction. "I-- hey, uh, sorry about that," she apologizes, louder than necessary. Said passer-by only clicks their tongue in annoyance as they raised a middle finger at her before walking away with a muffled swear under their breath.

She exchanges incredulous, befuddled looks with Porco for a few silent moments before eventually letting out a snort and bursting into a fit of stupidly drunken laughter with him. 

“...is what I mean… fucking capitalism... makesnasshole out ofveryone,” she remarks, broken phrases drawn out in between chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. I got it for the tenth time,” Porco says, laughing with a roll of his eyes. He stands up and stretches out a hand in front of her. “Now can we go home? Can’t exactly start a revolution when the alcohol’s fucked you up that bad,” he says with an impatient sigh.

“Yeah? How do you know? Did Karl Marx write that?” She languidly takes his hand.

“No, but-- fucking… well, I don’t know. Maybe? Indirectly? I mean, we did just give in to consumerism,” Porco says with a sharp click of his tongue as he pulls her up to stand.

“Well… yeah. I guess so.”

“Anyway.” Porco places a palm at the top of her head and urges her to face him. “You seem more out of it than me. I’m walking you home this time, alright?

”She shrugs languidly. “Sure, whatever,” she says, her words muffled as she falls face first into his chest. 

--

“Give me the fucking keys,” he says coarsely after her third failed attempt at unlocking the door to her own flat. In the dim light of the hall, Porco tries to make out the shape of what he recognizes as the right one among the five keys dangling from her keychain. He sighs, frustrated as he finally unlocks the door. 

“How the hell did you--?” Confused, she eyes the keys still dangling from the door. “Why wouldn’t it open when it was me?”

“For the love of--” Porco runs a palm down across his face with an exasperated sigh. “You were forcing the wrong key.”

“Oh.” She snorts trying to stifle a chuckle. Porco pulls the keys from the door and hands them to her along with the sketchbook he’d been carrying.

“Thanks.” She gives the door a light push before finally taking a step into the flat. And then a sudden stop. She pockets her keys and lets the sketchbook fall on the carpeted floor of the foyer. She tilts her head pensively for a few moments, staring blankly at the darkness of her room. Porco raises an eyebrow in confusion. She turns on her heel to face him again.

“What is it?” he asks.

She stands on the tips of her toes, eyeing Porco with what felt to him like newfound curiosity. She rests a hand on his shoulder to steady herself.

Her other hand soon reaches up to cradle the side of his face. It comes as a surprise, but not the kind that made you flinch or visibly react in some way. This was simply… unexpected. Weird. And somehow new.

She’s looking at me. And she’s looking like she’s waiting.

And what is she waiting for, exactly? He feels a nervous lump in his throat, swallows it down. He has half the mind to lean his face closer as he, too, looks at her-- and he looks at her like he’s waiting.

Alas, whatever this is-- it ends where it feels like it’s not supposed to.

“‘Night, Porco,” she says with a feeble smile before falling back flatly on her feet.

“Yeah. You too. I’ll see you around,” he says, tentatively glancing at his side.She crouches down to lazily pick up the sketchbook before finally entering her flat again. Porco catches her giving him a tiny wave through the crack of the door moments before she completely pushes it closed. He bids her goodbye with a curt nod.

Once the door closes, he rolls up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. 

3:15 AM. Porco raises a palm to his cheek. The ghost of her touch lingers on his skin.

***

“Are you serious?” Porco scoffs. “Y/N, you’re not even watching the film.” He leans his head against his palm with his arm resting on the side of the couch.

“Sure I am,” she says, unpinning her hair before letting her head fall on his lap. As she types out a message on her phone, Porco manages to make out Pieck’s name at the top of the chat box.

“You keep checking your phone.”

“It’s fine. We’ve both seen this film before anyway. I told you-- I’m just rewatching it for my paper on Nietzsche.”

“So you dragged me into this for what?”

She gives a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know. Felt like it. Just wanted to bother you for a good film.” She finally sets aside her phone to look up at Porco with a shit-eating grin. He sighs and flicks a finger against her forehead. “Ow. What the fuck.”

“At least try to look like you’re actually watching,” Porco says, turning her head to face the TV screen.

"Fine, fine," she says with a grimace as she kneads the pain away on her forehead.

They’re now about an hour into Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. As lovers Joel and Clementine ran through the memories-- hand in hand mapping the history of their relationship-- the ups and downs-- scenes of the two playfully mocking the film at a drive-in theater, a stroll through the flea market leading into talks of having a child, lovemaking underneath the covers as Clementine told Joel about her insecurities rooting from childhood-- all these small intimacies that nonetheless revealed to each other their flawed, detestable selves along with reasons they probably shouldn’t be together, Porco realizes it. 

He looks at her, notes the way the flicker of the TV screen daintily lit up her solemn face and how she’d break into a smile every now and then. She’d brush the back of her hand against his knee and point at the TV screen to tell him that this was among her favorite parts so he absolutely had to pay close attention. A bit funny considering she was the one who wasn’t paying much attention to the film during the first part, Porco thinks. At least she’s watching now, even as he can’t help but watch her instead.

As he absentmindedly brushes a hand against her hair, he wonders if they could be something more, wonders if they’d be anything like Joel and Clementine-- imperfect, but nonetheless worthwhile. They’d known each other since they were kids and he can definitely make a list of things he doesn’t like about her-- like the way she’s too loud and frisky and never seemed to take the right things seriously, how scatterbrained she was that she’d forget the schedule for a midterm exam and how her room always seemed to be in shambles, the way she was so stubborn she’d easily get upset at something as simple as choosing to eat at a fast food different from the one she insisted on, how she’d smoke in his dorm no matter how many times he’d told her that she could get him in trouble for it. But it's not like he's perfect either. She’d told him that he came on too headstrong at times and that’s why a lot of people felt intimidated by him-- a trait that had gotten him into fights and eventually, long afternoons of detention back in high school. She says she hates the way he thought himself too strong to cry in front of anyone and how he’d grown dismissive of opening up to her as they got older. Whenever they’d get into heated fights, she’d tell him that all you ever are is angry and how he was pretty shit at saying sorry like he meant it. And despite all of these, they had remained close friends over the years. They’d promised each other that they’d get better-- slowly, but surely-- even if that was something easier said than done. He could live with that. He would.

***

“Hey, uh--” Porco breathes out a puff of smoke as he hands her the cigarette. He gazes distantly at the parade of city lights before them-- from the headlamps of the vehicles passing below them on the bridge, the streetlights, and the buildings overhead. “--do you still like Pieck?”

She suddenly lets out a cough and a puff of smoke at that. She gapes at Porco incredulously.

“Pock, it’s been three years since we broke up. And that was high school.”

“Look, I know that, but--” he sighs. “I was just wondering.”

She laughs. “That’s not really what you wanted to ask, is it? There’s something else.” She raises an eyebrow at Porco. He rolls his eyes at that, irked at how easily she could read him. “So ask.” She passes him the cigarette and he takes a drag of it.

“Ok--” he says with a sigh. “--Have you liked any other girls after her?”

She raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“No, not really. Nothing serious, at least. I mean, I did have a crush on this girl who sat beside me in English class during freshman year. But... that was freshman year, you know? Nothing ever really came of it. And you know I would have told you if something actually did, anyway."

“I see.”

“There’s more you want to ask,” she says with a cheeky smile.

“Ok. Fine.” Another drag of the cigarette. “How about-- boys? Have you liked any guy at all since then?” The city lights blur against the filter of smoke. Porco refuses to meet her eyes even as he feels her gaze on him-- heavy with something he could not exactly put his finger on. He knows she’s not smiling anymore and from his periphery, he thinks he senses a swallow in her throat. She turns to the city overhead.

“Yes, actually.” She takes the cigarette from him, smiling fondly upon the light brush of their fingers. “I-- you know, even though I’ve known for a long time that I liked both guys and girls, I still find myself doubting that sometimes. When I’m attracted to a girl, I sometimes think that maybe I was just gay all along. And now that I find myself actually liking a boy again, a part of me entertains the thought that maybe me liking girls was just a phase and maybe I was straight all along. But... I just know it’s not like that. And yet, what people say still gets to me-- they’ve got a way of making you think that being bi isn’t a real thing. Even though it is. I know because... I’m real, right?”

“Yeah. You are. You’re… you’re here.” The corner of his lips turn up as he says it. “I get it. I mean, I think I’m the same.”

“Really?” She turns to gape at him.

“I suppose I’ve never told you this either because it’s so fucking embarrassing, but…” He sighs defeatedly, kneading his temples with unease. “...I made out with Reiner in high school.”

She regards him with a scandalized look.

“Dude, what the fuck. I thought you hated the guy.” 

“I do, alright? It’s just that… teenage hormones and shit. I was stupid and he’s stupid. I-- I don’t know what I was thinking that time. But… I do wonder sometimes--” He scratches his head tentatively. “--what my brother was thinking rushing in to save him from that accident. Like… just what did he see in that meathead that was worth saving?”

“And did you find your answer to that when you were making out?”

Porco eyes her with a deathly glare.

“Fuck you.” 

“Oh, so you did,” she says with an impish grin.

Porco flicks a finger against her forehead.

“Ow-- hey! Stop that,” she says with a grimace. “I mean, I don’t blame you. Reiner’s hot.”

He clicks his tongue at the remark before hastily seizing the cigarette from her grasp to take another drag. "Not like he's the only guy I ever found ho-- I mean liked."

She laughs.

"We should head back," he says coldly.

"Sure.” She nods. “Though… is there anything else you wanted to ask?"

As the filter of smoke hangs between them, Porco wonders about the boy she likes.

He shakes his head. "No. It's nothing."

***

“It was like deja vu,” Porco says, sighing into his phone as he shifts to lie near the edge of his bed. “Except in this dream… before she said goodnight, we, uh--”

“You kissed?” Pieck suggests from the other line.

“Well… yeah.” He puts a palm to cover his face, feeling the flush on his cheeks as he says it.

“So you like her,” Pieck says, almost breaking into a chuckle.

“I, uh…”

“I get it. She’s charming and reminds you of Marcel.”

“That’s…”

“I’ll be honest with you.” She sighs and Porco senses a smile from her tone. “Remember when I said I broke up with her because uni was getting too busy? The truth is that… I feel like you two always seemed to get along better than I ever could with her-- and it probably has to do with Marcel. When I realized that, I’ll admit I did start to feel jealous. I thought back then that you two might eventually get together. After all, you two were both still in high school, while I was already away in uni. It left me distraught for months so I just... decided to break it off. Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s been years and it’s not like I haven’t dated anyone else since then. And in hindsight, that just might have been for the best. I mean, you confiding in me about her right now-- I think-- is a testament to that. Because you realized it too, didn’t you?”

“Oh." He pauses. "I never thought that you-- Pieck, look, I--”

“Pock, if you feel guilty about it just because I used to date her, don’t. It’s not anyone’s fault. That… that she just loved you first. It’s circumstance. She met you and Marcel first before me.”

That she loved you first. As Porco echoes the words in his head, he becomes acutely aware of the beating in his chest and the warmth swarming his face. He buries his face in a pillow and screams into it.

“Hey, Pock? You ok there?” Pieck chuckles.

“How do I-- you think I should tell her?”

“Well, it’s the honest thing to do. And I genuinely think you don’t stand to lose much by doing so. Even if by the littlest chance of her not returning your feelings, I don’t think confessing would ruin your friendship. Might be a little awkward at first, but I don’t think she’ll end up hating or avoiding you at all.”

“You sure you’re not just sayi--”

“No, Pock. I’m not just saying this because we’re friends. I’m saying it because it’s what makes sense.”

“Ok, well… thanks,” he sighs. “And by the way… I’m sorry I called you this early. I know you’re probably busy especially since it’s your thesis year.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you told me. Frankly, I do find satisfaction in knowing my speculations are correct. And you guys… you two are more predictable than you think-- if I’m being honest,” Pieck laughs.

“Well, I suppose being predictable isn’t so bad… if you’re right.”

Once they bid each other goodbye on the phone, Porco remains sprawled across the bed staring blankly at the ceiling. He rests a palm on his cheek, internally cursing Marcel as he feels the warmth streaming his face once again.

***

“Fuck,” Porco swears under his breath as they both ran towards the car, their feet splashing against the puddled ground as the rain cascades. A looming thunder rolls across the night sky as they make it to the safety of the vehicle.

“So… still not convinced that trying to get a Happy Meal on a rainy Friday at midnight was a bad idea?” Porco says, trying to catch his breath as he sets down the paper bag on the space between their seats.

“Well, I’ll admit it kinda sucked that you had to have your car still parked in school. And in my defense, I didn't expect the drizzle to cascade so soon on the way back. But you know what? It’s fine. We got what we needed and that’s all that matters. I’ll stand by this being a good idea.” She laughs as she peels off her drenched jacket. “Oh, by the way, where can I put this?”

“Just put it in the backseat,” Porco says as he peeled off his own jacket.

“Got it. Here, give me yours too,” she says before turning to place both of their drenched jackets in the backseat.

“Thanks.” Porco switches on the car’s dome light and the windshield wipers. The car’s interior now warmly lit, he rummages inside the paper bag, then hands her a box of chicken nuggets along with a plastic fork. “You want the fries now or later?”

“Later’s good. Thanks.” Porco acknowledges her with a nod, then leans back on the car seat with a languished sigh.

The rain patters incessantly against the windows over the rhythm of the windshield wipers. The faint yellow glow lulls from the ceiling of his car. He recalls a rainy evening spent staring out the window as he nervously waited for Marcel to come home. A distant memory weighs heavy on his eyelids.

“Porco. Are you ok?”

“What? Yeah.” Porco shifts lightly in his seat, slightly startled. “I just… remembered something.”

“What is it?”

“The rain. It just reminded me of Marcel.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Yeah.”

“You know, he was…” She puts down her food and lightly wipes the sides of her mouth with the back of her hand. “Back then, I considered him as something a little more than a best friend. I like that he liked my drawings and how he never made fun of them… even though he was ways better than me at it,” she recalls fondly.

He scoffs. “So… are you guilt-tripping me for something I said about your drawings when we were twelve?”

“You were an asshole, but you should be glad I’m past that.” She rolls her eyes with a sigh. “All I’m saying now is that Marcel was... really special to me.”

“What-- did you have a crush on Marcel or something?”

She snorts. “You could say... it was something like that. Yeah.”

Figures. He nonchalantly crosses his arms in front of his chest. The pattering rain fills in the lull in their conversation.

“I like your drawings too,” he finally says.

“That’s why I drag you along every time I go out to draw. You like watching me, right?” She teasingly raises an eyebrow as she says it.

“Well, sure.” He shrugs awkwardly in his seat.

“Tell me. What else do you like?”

“I don’t know. Let’s see…” he sighs, feigning annoyance with a roll of his eyes. “I like it when I’m in the middle of pulling an all-nighter at Tim Hortons… and you go on and disturb me just to get a Happy Meal on a rainy Friday midnight.”

“Yeah?” she chuckles. “What else?”

Porco turns to glance at her. As she meets him with a playful grin, his mind races with answers.

I like it when you steal my jacket and you leave me to freeze to death in the cold of the cafe’s AC. I like it when you go on a chaotic, semi-coherent drunken rant about how badly you want capitalism dismantled. I like it when you remember Marcel. I like your hair. I like how your hands unpin your hair before you rest your head on my lap.

He scoffs-- more in reaction to his own thoughts than at her teasing. Who knew he could be that embarrassingly sappy? “What are you… getting at?”

“Nevermind.” She shakes her head, still smiling. She laughs while timidly raising a palm to her cheek. “Can we share your fries now?”

***

“So I’m thinking of getting a tattoo,” Porco says, settling himself on the dormitory steps faintly lit by the porch lights hanging on both sides of the entrance.

“Cool. So where do you want it?” She sits beside him while setting down her things-- a shoulder bag and a sketchbook on the concrete step.

“I was just thinking on my arm,” he says, pointing a finger at a spot on his skin.

“What do you want it to look like?”

“Not sure yet.”

“I could draw you one.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. I could do it right now.”

“Really?”

She takes the ballpoint pen out of the spring of her sketchbook and begins to doodle something on his arm. Covering her drawing with a cupped palm, she chuckles while mischievously peering up at him.

“I swear to god, if you’re drawing something embarrassing-- Oh, fuck you.” Porco laughs, managing to take a peek at the ink drawing of a cartoon porcupine with the hair on its head stylishly pushed back. Below the drawing, it writes 'porcopine.' He pulls his arm away from her grasp.

"What? You don't like it?" She grimaces.

"Porcopine? Really?"

“What? It's cute,” she says with an offended click of her tongue, reaching for his arm once again.

Below the word 'porcopine,' she then writes the phrase 'i <3 you.'

Porco furrows his brows upon reading the phrase, then lets out a chuckle. “What does this--?” he asks, pointing out the inked words on his skin.

“What do you mean? It is what it is.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course I do.”

“How do you mean it?”

She tilts her head pensively and squints at Porco as she gathers how to describe exactly what she meant. She supposes that he’s right-- a clarification was indeed necessary. This kind of thing could get confusing, after all. When you’ve known each other for so long in a relationship such as this, lines tend to blur. One day, you could both feel like the bestest of friends, and then like lovers the next.

“I mean it in a way that I wouldn’t mind marrying you.”

“Oh.” Porco gapes at her for a moment. “Ok,” he says, letting out an awkward chuckle.

“What’s with that reaction? I’m serious, Pock.”

“I just… I mean, to be honest…” He furrows his brows, carefully pondering his words. “I wouldn’t mind marrying you either.” Porco scratches his head sheepishly.

“Ok then,” she chuckles, shifting in her seat to face him. “We could build something. Something bigger than a Lego house. Maybe one with a garden. A story with a perfect ending.”

“Yeah? And if it’s not perfect, what then?”

“Something worthwhile, then. An ending that feels like an ending.”

“Ok. I can live with that,” he laughs.

“Porco.”

As she cradles his face in between her palms, Porco becomes acutely aware of the flush in his cheeks.

Then, slowly, she leans closer to gingerly place a kiss at the tip of his nose.

They soon find themselves both chuckling at what was probably the most blatantly romantic gesture between them thus far.

“So, uh, what are we now, exactly?” he asks awkwardly as they soon pull away.

She shrugs. “Lovers? Best friends who would marry each other? Though the latter is kind of a mouthful if you ask me.”

“Yeah. Let’s go with that first one.”

“Say, Porco.” She tilts her head questioningly at him. “You want to tell me how this night ends?”

“How the hell should I--”

She puts a finger to his lips and shakes her head. “Hey. Lovers now, remember? I’m not the only one telling this story. So tell me.”

“Ok. Let’s see,” he sighs. And so he indulges her. “It ends with you beside me. We’re lying down on my bed.”

“Clothed or naked?”

He gapes. “Are you seriously even consi--”

She flicks a finger against his forehead as she regards him with a mischievous smile. “Just answer the question.”

“Ok, fine,” he resigns, lightly kneading his forehead. “Look, I want to say naked because my AC’s broken ri--”

“Naked it is, then.”

“Clothed.” He glares. “For tonight.”

“Fine, fine,” she says, scratching her head in resignation. “You sure you’re not having second thoughts about letting me stay tonight, though? Not worried you might wake up with a bunch of porcopines on your face? Or I don’t know-- dick drawings?”

“Fuck off,” he says with a chuckle.

“So… what is it, really? You want me to stay or you want me to go?”

Porco sighs before slowly leaning his face closer to hers.

“I want you to stay,” he says against her cheek, before placing a chaste kiss on her skin. “Whatever I wake up to in the morning, I’m sure it’s worth it.”

[aurabird]

Guidance for Guilt

How does one deal with the guilt and regret they feel when they see the way people look at them? You seek out another that has been in the same situation before.

Also on Ao3

Despite the title, this doesn’t actually have angst in it.

-----------

Sausage went by horseback as he left Mythland, too afraid to even touch the corrupted elytra he once wore for longer than a few seconds let alone wear it again.

The ride through the desert was slow despite the well-worn paths from trade routes, the unrelenting heat miserable for both him and his stead and briefly he debated turning back and borrowing an elytra from someone.

Night fell as the moon took the place of the sun. It was a respite from the heat sure, but out here, night brought a chilling cold. The Mythland king would never understand why anyone would want to live in the desert, and yet one of the largest and most powerful empires was nestled at the heart the said biome.

The Vigil of Pixandria shone like a beacon in the night as if to lead those weary and lost among the dunes to shelter from the elements. Sausage grimaced briefly at the fact that the last time he was there, he’d built a fake embassy and trapped it, the aim to kill the empire’s king. He had been struggling to fight off the corruption then and even though he had the self-awareness to know what he was doing was wrong, he did it anyway.

To be fair, his mind argued, Pix HAD issued a challenge to all that wished to prank him to make sure their attempts were more than a pathetic pitfall trap... so was it really Sausage’s fault if the oracle had asked for something so explosive in the first place?

Sand began to transition granite and brick as Sausage entered the oasis of an empire. The streets weren’t empty, but the citizens of Pixandria that were around spoke in hushed whispers of intrigue at him. They didn’t know who he was, he’d worn his assassins guild attire strictly so that he could hide his face.

After all, he was still technically enemy number one in pretty much every single empire. If the Pixandrians had known who had entered their city, then their reactions probably wouldn’t have been the most welcoming.

He found an inn in the center of this residential area and paid the stable boy the money required to leave his horse there before continuing to the capitol of the empire.

As he entered the familiar area he found it mostly empty, understandably so given how late it was, and took time to look at the Vigil; the colorful candles and lanterns that decorated the are around it just as stunning as the last time he’d been here.

Pix had told him once that the Vigil was for the twelve empires alone since in Pixandrian beleif they all had to exist regardless of what terms they were all on lest the balance of the universe be upset. He shuddered at the realization that if his journey in the spirit realm had ended in failure that he could have caused something far more catastrophic than whatever Xornoth would bring to occur.

Then came sadness at the thought of how many of the recorded deaths were by his own hand? He’d been told of the arena fight, how he’d gone on a murder spree when the corruption took control over him entirely...

"I had a feeling you’d show up eventually.” Came a familiar voice, snapping him out of his thoughts. Sausage turned to face the speaker and found the Copper King himself casually leaning against the wall of a building that looked like a shop of sorts.

Sausage wasn’t surprised that he’d been expected, Pix was a unique individual in the fact that he was an oracle not only with the ability to see deaths seconds before they happened, but he would sometimes get prophetic visions every now and again. He was a wise and kind ruler, albeit with a streak of mischief at times as well. The man no doubt had questions about Sausage’s recent death by Gem’s hand and his delayed respawn, but that’s not why the Mythland king had come to see him.

After the death of the enderdragon, the Copper King had exiled himself in his guilt and regret, heading into the harshness of the desert with almost nothing but the clothes on his back. Signs of his struggle could be seen in the form of scars and burns. This, is why Sausage had come.

“I’m...probably not at the top of your list of people to see right now...but I...I need guidance, Pix. I don’t know how to cope with what I’m feeling.”

Pix gave him a gentle smile, “Come, we’ll discuss it inside.”

The interior of Pix’s abode was something Sausage had only seen once and, at the time, he’d not been in complete control of his body and actions. Now that the haze in his mind was gone, the place was stunning. Sandstone and striped birch made up walls accented with copper. The sandstone and glazed terracotta floor accented with dried honeycomb, desert plants filling pots nestled into corners and on shelves. It was a humble place as opposed to the massive castles and towers of the other empires.

He sat down at an oak table while Pix went off to grab something, returning with a glass of water which Sausage graciously accepted. Pix then sat down opposite of him and spoke "So, since you sit here now, I assume your trip to the spirit realm was successful?“

Of course Pix would know about that, “I think so? I don’t feel corrupted anymore and the haze that used to cloud my mind is gone so...maybe? I...still don’t understand how going there cured me.”

“In Pixandrian beleif, those with damaged souls go there to heal or pass on. Xornoth corrupted yours entirely and when Gem killed you, that’s where you ended up. You were dead to the world for a week, Sausage; the only sign that you were going to come back was because that spirit tether of yours was glowing.”

Sausage pulled the strange object he’d been given by Sir Carlos out and looked at it, “That’s what this thing is called?”

Pix nodded in response, “Most souls that end up in the spirit realm pass on while others get lost and eventually fade away over time. A spirit tether ensures that a soul will find its way back to its body. They are extremely rare so I was surprised to find you had one.”

“A friend gave it to me...I guess I quite literally owe him my life. But my spiritual journey is not why I came here; I see the way everyone looks at me, to them I’m still the servant of evil, Xornoth’s corrupted Champion. I have nightmares of what I’ve done and who I’ve hurt, I have permanent scars to remind me of my mistakes...there’s so much guilt and regret, Pix...I don’t know what to do.”

"Guilt and regret are hard wounds to heal; even now, I still cannot forgive myself for what I did to the enderdragon and, honestly, I don’t think I ever will. Speak with those you wronged, even if they don’t believe you at first. It will take time and effort to fix what has been broken and there will be scarring that remains once the wound heals, but I know you, Sausage, and you’re pretty hard to stay mad at for very long.”

A pained smile crossed Sausage’s mouth at those words, “Even though I’ve caused so much greif and pain?”

"I don’t speak for the others, but the way I see it, if we’re going to stop Xornoth, we need to be united. The sooner we put our quarrels aside, the sooner we can deal with him.”

“Joey is still drunk with power and praise and I’m pretty sure that crown of his is messing with his mind somehow. We need to save him first, Pix, before he’s too far gone for us to do anything.”

Pix nodded, “Agreed. But, for now, you’ve traveled a long way to get here. Why don’t you stay in Pixandria for the night and head off to Mythland to make amends with the others in the morning?”

As if in agreement Sausage yawned, “Alright, thank you Pix, for everything. And...I’m sorry for the embassy trap but you did kinda ask for us to do better pranks.”

A laugh escaped the Copper King at the comment, his brown eyes glinting with mischief, "I did, didn’t I? Well, you know me, my retaliation will be tenfold so I hope you’re ready, Sausage.”

Sausage let out a chuckle and a sly smirk, “Bring it on, Copper King.”

[diamondcitydarlin]

Another thing I wanted to add to this thought about the Lokius lover's quarrel- it's interesting that when Loki is actually being amorous towards Sylvie and entertaining ideas of them being together or w/e, he does not seem to have any hang ups or reservations about the 'weirdness' of that, he doesn't seem to second guess the concept at all, the moment feelings start forming he embraces them (which is...worringly OOC as I've said before but that's not the point here) so much so that it almost comes across as Loki being cloying and Sylvie trying to politely push him away.

So then...why...does he avoid admitting this to Mobius during their argument? I could understand the interpretation that to a point they're both lying to and playing against each other out of hurt/anger and Loki is also trying to protect Sylvie by not letting Mobius know how much he does care about her, but eventually Mobius catches on anyway and Loki had to have known he would. And yet, he still insists that's not what's going on. For whose sake?

Even when admitting that's what's going on might in fact win him back some of Mobius' trust long enough to maybe convince him he is telling the truth about the TVA. And if they really have formed just a strong het friendship, why wouldn't he?

Also significant that Loki looks...especially heartbroken and conflicted when Mobius is excoriating him for the weirdness of this. He didn't seem to care about said weirdness before, like at all, and now all of a sudden he's riddled with guilt and confusion over it?? miss mam what???

and then the fact that the both of them only become mutually 'comfortable' with the situation when Mobius admits maybe their connection could bring down the TVA as a whole. for whatever he might have come to feel for Loki, I'm sure he's thinking it cannot possibly compare to a connection so strong it makes a chaotic branch in an apocalypse so...it's not important. Loki doesn't deserve to be alone, and if this is the companionship that is meant for him Mobius loves him too much to keep standing in the way of it. He stops lashing out, but I doubt he stops feeling hurt.

so that's Mobius' POV, but from Loki's...I can see how it would be easier to favor feelings for someone that is essentially oneself, there's no second-guessing in that situation about whether one deserves that affection because it's the devil you know, right? also idk that Loki realizes why Mobius was upset really- he just knows that Mobius was disgusted by him and that was heartbreak enough- Mobius, the guy that has seen every horrible thing, every wicked deed Loki has committed, knows him better than anyone else and has always eschewed the common reaction to Loki's behaviors. Mobius has accepted and loved him regardless. Mobius has always seen beyond all that and Loki has come to trust him immensely because of it.

Until the thing with Sylvie happens and suddenly Mobius is no longer unconditionally accepting of everything Loki chooses to do- I'm sure if Loki was at all entertaining fantasies of what the both of them could be together this moment kind of seals his insecurities against any possibility of it actually happening. (because he doesn't realize mobius wasn't actually disgusted with him he was jealous bc he's in love with YOU YOU FUCKIN DOPE)

uhm yeah so...idiots to lovers, right?

[joel-millerr]

Pushing Each Others Limits

Chapter Four of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10k

Summary: You and the Child share an intimate moment. Mando continues to boss you around, and this time you’ve had enough, choosing to defy him because you’re a brat.

Warnings: oral sex (man receiving), drinking, doing sexual stuff under the influence, dom/sub mentions, angst, slight gambling, a little bit of fluff with the Child, mentions of death/mourning

A/N: also I did a little bit of research on sabacc and then realized it’s a lot more intricate than I thought so watch me make shit up about the game ahahaha

-------

“And why can’t I come with you?”

Mando’s sigh is heavily distorted by the vocoder, and the eye slit in the helmet continues to study you. Hands resting on his hips, he hovers over your body, scolding you like a child. “Because I said so.”

Chuffing out a scoff, your eyes roll dramatically as you press him again, forcing to crane your neck in order to maintain your gaze, “That’s such bullshit, Mando.”

“Too fucking bad.”

Fists white knuckling at your sides, your eyebrows are pulled together tightly, feeling the childlike anger bubbling inside of you. Deep down, you know Mando’s right. It’s becoming increasingly riskier for you to keep roaming the streets, but being stuck in the hangar with Peli is the last thing you want to be doing. You’d much rather be out, no matter how dangerous it might be.

“I am more than capable of handling my own, thank you for very much.” You warn before stomping your way over to the door to the hangar, but before you can even get close enough to the door, your body is yanked backwards, a large hand gripping your arm and whipping you to face the Mandalorian.

“Can you just listen for once?” He growls, broad chest looming over your smaller figure. Your throat goes dry instantly—this being the first time in two days that he’s been this close to you.

Neither of you have spoken about what happened on your first night here, and since then Mando’s been keeping his distance. Once again, he’s keeping you at bay, forcing you to guess what the hell is going on under that bucket of a helmet he wears.

Having a knack for reading people, it’s always been impossible to hide things from you because you were continuously capable of finding out the truth based on body language or facial expressions. Given the fact that Mando’s face is covered by kriffing beskar, you have no way of trying to get a read on him. It’s just a blank space, and no matter how hard your eyes focus on the slightest movement of his body or tilt of his head, you’re stuck guessing what he could be thinking.

So in truth, you’re a little resentful, and hurt. What happened in that alley was more than just a spur of the moment type of thing. You felt it—it had been building up since you both met, and since then the tension had become so disgustingly thick that it was bound to take you both over, but now? It’s like you’re back to square one. Actually no, it’s like he’s purposely ignoring you, as if he doesn’t want anything to do with you, but has no choice since you’re essentially stuck with him.

But despite this gnawing feeling that you’ve worn out your welcome, you’d still rather spend the day with him than with Peli. At least with Mando, the chances of him making small talk are low; an outburst between you and the owner of the hangar is much more likely.

And now you’re stuck in a stare down with Mando. Visor watching you, you stare back in defiance with one eyebrow raised, and your jaw angled. He probably thinks the longer he keeps his gaze on you that you’ll eventually give in to what he wants, but you’re not that submissive. You rarely give into intimidation, and quite honestly, there’s a part of you that enjoys seeing him get this worked up. Wanting to know just how far you can push your luck, you take one step closer until you’re merely inches away from cool chrome durasteel. Your body is burning up, heartrate rising and rising until it’s thumping against your ribcage, and you swear you can see his chest puff out slightly.

The hand on your arm releases and balls up as his side. Quick breaths emit from the vocoder, and you bite down on your lip to stop the smile from creeping up on your lips. It shouldn’t bring you this much satisfaction seeing him get agitated, but your ego is flourishing right now.

Pushing your limits even further, you lean into his body ever so slowly, and whisper breathlessly into the side of his helmet, “Please let me come with you.”

Mando’s shoulders stiffen and his chest heaves, the cuirass brushing against your breasts. You start to think he might be considering letting you come with him, given your shameless efforts seducing him to your will. He stays quiet for far too long, and the air is starting to get thicker, your ability to breathe is becoming too difficult.

Just when you start to think you’re in control of the situation, he presses into you and your forced to take a step back to keep yourself from falling backwards. His broad chest encompasses you once again, demonstrating that any control you had was just him manipulating you into thinking that. “No.” He commands, the syllable ripping through the modulator, and just like that, the argument ends. Not bothering to wait for your rebuttal, he saunters passed you, and disappears through the door of the hangar.

You want to scream; you want to rip your hair out like an immature kid who didn’t get what they wanted, but you stand there dumbfounded. What happened? Were you so naïve as to think that you had any kind of control over the situation? Was he just letting you believe that you have any chance in deciding what the outcome of the argument would be?

Hearing another door swoosh open, your head turns towards the sound to see Peli exiting her office and heading in direction of the ship. Her reaction to seeing you still here is a mix of disappointment and annoyance. You see her roll her eyes and curse under her breath, and even though you can’t make out what she said, you know it wasn’t anything kind.

She saunters over to Crest to begin any last-minute tweaks that it might need, her back facing you. Ideally, today would be the day to squash your quarrel with her, since you’re both stuck with each other for the rest of the day, and having to tip-toe around each other just because neither of you refuse to be the first to bring up what happened all those years ago just seems juvenile.

Taking a deep, almost lung burning breath in an effort to release all the anger concerning Mando, you push down any pride you have and make a beeline towards Peli. You know she can hear your feet hitting the ground as you approach her, and you observe her posture change—she tries to disappear further into the Crest, pretending to be so busy that she could completely ignore you, but you’re too determined to squash your issues to give up now.

“Can I help with anything?” You ask just as get closer to her. Peli’s back stays glued to you, she doesn’t even bother looking in your direction before answering. “No.”

Biting down on your jaw and fighting the urge to roll your own eyes, your lips press into a thin line before prodding her again. “Peli, I don’t want any trouble. I can helpful.”

This seems to get her attention because her back stiffens, head turning slightly in your direction before her words come out like venom. “Even if I wanted help, the last person I’d ask it from is you.”

Her words cause you to recoil, only now realizing just how much resentment and bitterness for you lies deep inside her. The guilt that follows causes your fingers to twitch at your sides, chew the inside of your cheek and stand there awkwardly, not wanting to walk away but also not having anything to ease the anxiety in the air. The only thing you can think of is to try to make conversation about the ship. Taking a few steps back and leaning your shoulder against the side of the Crest, you begin to speak gently, “When Mando and I were on Sorgan, I had noticed the beginning’s a fuel leak, but I wasn’t able to fix it since I didn’t have any handy equipment on me.”

An obnoxious sneer is released from Peli as she begins to march around the Crest, checking off her to-do list on the datapad in her hands. “I don’t see how you would have been able to do that even if you did have the proper tools.”

“I’m a very capable mechanic, Peli.” You snap back, trailing behind her. Growing up surrounded by ships has given you an extensive knowledge into how a ship runs—the intricate mechanics involved in keeping a ship in good condition. Therefore, you knew what you were talking about. If anyone could go toe-to-toe with you when it came to repairing anything, it was Peli.  

Finally pulling her eyes away from the tablet in her hands to look at you, she mumbles, “Don’t you mean a smuggler?” through gritted teeth, practically spitting the words at you.

Your weight shifts to one side, a hand placed firmly on your hip and clamping hard on your jaw to keep yourself from impulsively saying something you might regret later, you take your time trying to find the right words to respond with. “Look, you’re stuck with me all day, because somebody didn’t want to draw more attention to themselves, so we’re going to have to learn to deal with each other just for today. I know I can be civil, but can you?”

Peli throws her arms up, shrugging theatrically before going back to take notes on her datapad. “Just as long as you stay out of my way, I got no problems.”

Realizing there may never be a time to squash your quarrels with her, you retreat inside the Crest for some time alone. Climbing up the ladder to the cockpit, you settle down in one of the passenger chairs. The Child fusses in his pram, and sleepy eyes peer up at you, that gentle, childlike expression seems to make all your troubles disappear in an instant. Your head cocks to the side, admiring and gazing upon this little green creature.

His tiny arms reach out for you and you lean over to pick him up in your arms. He sits on your lap, a petite hand stretching out to touch your face. Your neck leans forward, closing the space between you and the Child. Three fingers caress your cheek, and just as that happens, a rush of emotions overwhelm you. It’s a familiar feeling—like when you reunite with an old friend after years of going your separate ways. All those years apart means nothing because now you’ve found each other. That kind of love—a rare kind of connection, usually found only in soulmates or family. You’ve only ever experienced it as familial—your parents were your soulmates. They meant everything you, and from this little baby in your lap, you feel it in him too. His giant eyes look into you, as if he’s letting you in on a secret—one he’s never felt before and is unable to express to others. It hits the same spot inside of you. That yearning for familial love and acceptance—devoid of judgement, just pure, kind adoration that’s been buried deep inside of you. Flashes of the Mandalorian flood into your mind, coming in quick bursts that almost make your head spin.

A large mammal with a giant horn on its snout. A mudhorn.

A female brunette.

She’s my friend! Cara is my friend!

A room engulfed in flames.

Let me have a warrior’s death…This is the way.

Sadness, love, a consciousness to protect—it’s all consuming. This is a bond between father and child, you now realize. The intensity in which the Child cares for Mando, it’s not only remarkable but heartwarming. In five years, you haven’t even come close to the kind of bond they clearly share, and it’s something you didn’t know you ached for. Actually, you probably knew on some level you craved this kind of undying love but were forced to reject and push down deep inside you.

The touch on your cheek suddenly disappears, and the Child falls backwards, just in time for you to catch his back with your other hand to keep him from falling out of your lap. Whatever he’s just shown you had taken all the force he had in his little body, because his eyes flutter shut, and almost instantly falling asleep in your arms. You don’t know how to show him that you now understand their relationship, but you wonder if on some level, he already knows. There’s clearly something that binds you and him together, something for whatever reason you’re unable to explain, but you somewhat subconsciously know this is the first time the Child has allowed anyone to know this. Gently placing him in his crib and shutting the pram, you slouch back in your seat and wonder if the Mandalorian knows just how much he means to this little gremlin.

Grogu.

--

Somehow you’ve fallen asleep. You don’t remember even closing your eyes but when they bat open, dusk has fallen on Mos Eisley. Looking over to your left haphazardly, the lack of a green baby in the pram shoots panic up and down your spine, causing you to jump to your feet immediately. Your eyesight is still hazy, but your feet are working on autopilot, searching frantically for him in the cockpit. When you see no obvious sign of him, you dash for the ladder. Taking the rungs two at a time, you all but fly down to the hull still hyped up on adrenaline, praying to the Maker that you did not lose Mando’s kid.

Once you reach the hull of the ship, you hear Peli’s voice and a series of noises from her pit droids. Descending down the side ramp, you see them gathered around a table, playing some kind of gambling game; probably sabacc. The little one is perched up on a seat at the table, ogling what the others are doing but not actually taking part in the festivities. Panic begins to subside, and a deep sigh of relief comes from you, your hand clutching your chest.

Noticing your presence, the Child coos and Peli looks up at you for a second before turning her attention back to the game in front of her. “I heard the kid fussing and when I came to check on him, you were asleep so I figured I’d take him so he doesn’t wake you up.”

“Oh, well thank you,” You didn’t know Peli was capable of being that kind, and it warms you to see such a different side to her.

Continuing to stand there awkwardly for a few seconds trying to decide what you should do next, your jaw stiffens, feeling like you’re intruding on their game. Pivoting slowly, you’re about to make for the ship again when Peli calls you over. “You still good at the game?”

Clearing your throat, you take a step towards her before responding, hands twiddling in front of you. “Uh, yeah I used to play all the time with my crew.”

She lets out a chuff of air, no doubt at the fact you said ‘crew’ as if to make fun of you, but you choose to ignore her obvious jest.

“Take a seat,” She says and then points to a chair off to the side of the hangar. You walk over to fetch it and lug it over to the table, choosing to sit down next to the Child. He peers up at you briefly before turning his big black eyes down to the game in front of you both.

“You’ll come in on the next round,” She informs you.

“Okay.”

--

“So,” Peli begins as she observes the cards in her hand. “How did you end up with Mando?”

Your hand rubs the nape of your neck absentmindedly, the other holding the cards in your hand. Your eyes are glued to the cards, but your mind focuses on something entirely different. “He had my tracking fob.”

“And he didn’t turn you in?” She says in surprise.

“Well he did, but turns out it was actually the Empire who had the hit on me so…” You answer.

“Why didn’t he just let the Imps have at you?” Curiosity is at the forefront of her voice, but there’s a hint of a sneer in the way she asks you—like she’s shocked he chose not to let the Empire do whatever they wanted to do to you.

“I don’t know,” You answer honestly, unsure of the reason yourself. He’s never actually told you why he didn’t just let the Imps take you, and you’ve been meaning to ask. It just never seemed like there was a right time to bring it up.

“Hmmm,” Peli hums.

It really was something that you wanted to know. Foolishly, you could say it was because you had developed a mutual respect for each other since your capture, but realistically, it probably came down to the fact that he hated the Empire, and didn’t want them to get what they wanted. If the latter were true, it would be hard to disguise the disappointment that would so clearly be plastered on your face whenever he’d choose to tell you. That’s part of the reason why you haven’t asked him yet. Often times, not knowing the truth has saved you from a lot of pain. This was just another one of those times. Never mind the fact that you also don’t know why you two almost fucked in an alley a couple nights ago. Just add that to the list of truths you didn’t want to know.

“Hey,” Peli’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “It’s your turn. You drawing, staying or swapping?”

Looking down at the cards in your hand and mentally adding them all up, you stand at 22. That’s almost a guaranteed win unless someone else at the table has a better hand than you do—which you doubt. It’s harder to tell what a droid’s hand might be given the fact that they…don’t have the ability to express anything facially and therefore have the best poker face in the galaxy, but you’ve been keeping count of the cards left in the deck, and you’re almost positive that you have the best hand at the table. Even Peli is starting to look nervous—her leg bounces off the ground, and you catch her furrowing her eyebrows. You have this win in the bag.

“All right, we ready to call it?” Peli asks the table. Her three droids mumble incoherently, and her eyes shift to you for a second to hear your answer. Your head dips forward in accordance and Peli offers a slight nod in approval. “Okay, you womp rats. Let’s do this.”

The droid immediately to her right shows his hand—19. Perfect, you’re one step closer to victory.

“Ha, close but not close enough!” Peli exclaims.

The next pit droid shows their hand—21. Okay, that’s a little too close to your number but it’s not good enough to beat you. It’s getting harder and harder to hide the shit-eating grin that’s slowly sneaking up on your face. Forcing your lips into a thin line, your body threatens to jump up and down in celebration.

The droid to your left shows their cards and once again, its hand isn’t as good as yours. They stand at -20 and now you’re all but shooting out of your seat with excitement.

Peli catches your attention by saying your name. You crane your neck to face her. “Your turn, smuggler.”

You can’t help but roll her eyes at her. It’s not that she’s wrong, but surely she could have thought of something more clever than that. Mouth curling up in a toothy smile, you—almost arrogantly, throw your cards on the table. “BOOM! 22, read ‘em and weep suckers!” The droids beep disappointedly, their little fists slamming down on the table, causing the cards and the miscellaneous pool in the middle to tumble around.

“Take it easy there, Spice-y…” Peli warns, her eyebrows dancing as she looks at you with her own shit-eating smile. Your face contorts in confusion as she slowly places her cards face up on the table.

“SON OF A BITCH!” You yell when you see her score.

Kriffing -23.

“‘Read ‘em and weep suckers’,” She mocks, letting out an obnoxiously loud laugh and wrapping her arms around the rewards in the middle. To be fair, it was all her parts anyway and you have no credits, so you didn’t actually lose anything—except your pride. The kid to your right laughs, his little arms waving up in down, totally unable to control his joy.

“How did—?”

“Kid, I’ve been playing this since before you were born. You don’t think I have some kind of strategy?”

“This is supposed to be a game based on luck,” Emphasizing the word luck because how in the Maker did she manage to win? You counted every card; you were so sure that you had this game in the bag.

“Guess I’m just lucky then.”

Rolling your eyes into the next galaxy and using your fists to push them off your knees to rise to your feet, you only notice then how dark it’s gotten since you woke up from your nap in the cockpit. Mando should be back by now. Eyes drifting off to the door of the hangar, he should be back any second, right? That sudden realization makes you cringe—you shouldn’t be ‘hoping’ for anything from him. You’re just…friends? Acquaintances? Making a mental note to add that to the list of things you’ll probably never know, you sigh to yourself.

“I’m gonna head out for a bit. The kid’s fine with you, right?” You ask Peli, keeping your eyes peeled to the hangar door.

“Didn’t Mando tell you to stay here?”

This time your neck cranes towards her direction, raising an eyebrow at her. “When have I ever done what someone’s told me to do?” You begin to say as your feet make for the door.

A rush of exhilaration and thrill hit you once the door closes behind you. Technically, you’re not doing anything wrong. Mando said you couldn’t go with him—he said nothing about you going off on your own, and besides the city is almost in complete darkness by now so the chances of anyone even paying any attention to you is pretty low. Even more so, you know this place like the back of your hand, and in the event that someone does identify you, it would be all too easy to zigzag your way through the streets and find your way back to the hangar without anything catching up to you. And since it’s your last night here, why shouldn’t you take one last walk around the town? After all, this was your home for many, many years so why wouldn’t you want to take one last nostalgic walk through your past? Especially if you’re trying to have the closure you didn’t allow yourself to have the last time you left Tatooine.

Not having a specific destination in mind, you let your feet guide you aimlessly through the city. Flashes of your youth appear in your mind, and you can see your younger self walking through these exact streets; sometimes with your parents, sometimes with Tye, sometimes just by yourself. As you watch yourself navigate through the roads, laughing and smiling with loved ones, you’re reminded of all the pain that’s happened to you since. Everyone you’ve ever loved is gone—dead or presumed dead. Every single person who’s brought happiness in your life, anyone who’s ever cared for you…gone.

It was right at this moment that you realize, you never had the time to mourn Tye’s death. There wasn’t time for you to process it—to accept it and move on. Instead, you had just forgotten all about it because there were too many other things to focus on, but now as you stroll through the city, the same city you and him would spend 90% of your time in, the realization that he’s gone pierces through you like dozens of vibroblades stabbing you in every corner of your body. An ache you didn’t know was stirring up inside you comes right to the surface, feeling empty and fucking alone once again.

He was your best friend.

He was the only family you had left. Tye was flawed, there’s no denying that, but he was with you right until the very last second. He tried to save your life—more times than you can count. Tye died trying to save your life and this is how you repay him? By fantasizing about the man who basically killed him? It shouldn’t be like this; you shouldn’t be with Mando. He took away the only family you had, and you’re out here wondering how mad he’ll be when he finds out you left the hangar when he told you to stay put?

But… Mando saved your life. He could have let the Imps carry you off but, he didn’t. He came back to rescue you. He told you to stay in the hangar for your own safety. Stars, he’s even out looking for some kind of lead as to why the Empire wants you.

It’s just too much. There are too many things you don’t know, too many conflicting emotions inside you, you’re unable to sift through them all and come to a logical conclusion. As you got older, it became easy to compartmentalize your feelings—locking some away and never allowing yourself the luxury of experiencing those again and for a while, it worked, but now everything’s changed. A Mandalorian came rushing into your life and has changed everything about the way you’ve been living. Nothing about you is the same anymore. The control you had is no longer there, slipping through your fingers like when rain slithers off leaves. Each drop of stability, and restriction is slipping out of your reach and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it.

You’re not sure when you started heading for the cantina, but you come to your senses just as your figure slides through the door. At the top of the stairs, the cantina is overwhelmed with people from all walks of life. Now that nightfall has stumbled on the city, all cantinas will look like this one—visitors, and locals alike all crammed together, dancing, drinking and gambling. Deciding against your better judgement to find a quiet place to sit alone and drink your thoughts away, you opt to sit at the bar. To make matters even more daring, you sit at the bar with your back to the entrance of the cantina. While others might not even think twice to do that, to you it’s stirring and terrifying all at the same time.

“What can I get ya?” The droid asks, his voice box distorting from how loud he actually has to speak in order for you to hear him.

“Just give me strongest thing you got,” You shout back, making a mental note to find a way to pay them back later.

“Rough day?” A gruff voice prompts.

Straining your neck to your right, a rather good-looking man back stares back at you, elbows resting on the counter. The cantina might be dimly lit, but you can make out some of his features. Floppy, black hair tickles the tops of his eyebrows, making his blue eyes stand out against the dark contrast. A tidy beard cascades across his cheeks and jawline, and for the first time in a while, you see a smile that doesn’t immediately trigger your fight or flight response.

“Uh, yeah,” You reply as the bartender hands you a cup full of a deep red liquid. Not taking a second to think about it, you grab the cup and throw the drink back, the alcohol hitting your tastebuds makes your body shiver involuntarily, but as it makes its way down your throat, the liquid warms your insides, relaxing the tautness in your shoulders. You motion to the bartender for another drink and the kind stranger giggles.

“Must have been a hell of a rough day,”

“Any day on Tatooine is a rough day.” You jest as the droid refills your cup.

“I wouldn’t know. It’s my first time here.”

You nearly choke on your drink, completely taken aback by the statement. “Why the hell are you here, then?”

The man’s head cocks to one side, and eyebrow raising in confusion, but that smile is still plastered on his face. He really does have a kind smile.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be imposing.” You correct, worried you might have offended him in some way.

“Not at all,” He shrugs. “I had to make a delivery here. I’m heading out at first light.”

“Oh?”

“What about you? What brings you here?”

Despite the alcohol lowering your defenses, you always know to keep your answers short and vague, so as to not draw attention to yourself. “Oh I’m just passing through.”

The brunette lets out a loud laugh, an infectious one that makes you laugh in return. He shakes his head, causing his disheveled hair to brush against his brow bone. The longer you look at him, the more you can feel arousal stirring up in your stomach. He really is attractive, in an easy, non-intimidating way.

Stars, this isn’t why you wanted to go out.

“How vague of you,” He quips.

“Gotta keep them on their toes, right?”

“That I have to agree with.”

Taking the cup in your hand and holding it up in front of you, he proposes a toast. “To keeping them on their toes”. The stranger holds up his own cup and knocks it against yours, albeit a little too aggressively because some of the liquid in your cup flies out of the mug and spills onto your tunic.

“Fuck, Maker I’m so sorry—” He starts to say but your hand comes up to stop him.

“It’s fine,” You assure him. “It’s not my finest shirt anyway.”

“At least let me pay for your drinks. It’s the least I can do since I may have completely ruined your shirt.”

Nodding your head, he calls the droid over and gestures for two more drinks.

--

Three drinks later, and the alcohol is definitely getting to you, now. More so than it did back on Sorgan, given that you’ve had just a fraction of whatever this red stuff is compared to an entire bottle of spotchka. Whatever this droid gave you was some powerful stuff. You’re not completely inebriated, but you’re definitely more relaxed than you were before, the warmth of the alcohol travelling through your system and making you a lot more comfortable and laid-back. To make matter worse, the alcohol has unfortunately made this strange man a lot more attractive and the thought of him touching you is making your cunt ache.

“Look, maybe I’m misreading things, but would you want to head back to my ship?”

It’s a bad idea—like, a really bad idea. You’ve known this man for maybe half an hour and you’re definitely not in the right state of mind to be accepting his offer. Actually, the fact that you’re drunk isn’t the problem. The real problem is that you’re being hunted by the fucking Empire and you have no idea if this guy is trying to find a way to lure you to his ship or if he really is just a kind traveler. Regardless, you shouldn’t say yes.

You really fucking shouldn’t.

Because you haven’t said anything, he begins to backtrack. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I take it back.”

Before your brain can control the words spewing out of your mouth, your ears hear you say, “No, you didn’t offend me at all.” Placing a hand over his on the counter and squeezing it in reassurance, the touch sends sparks up your arm and sends it straight to the apex of your thighs. You’re definitely in the wrong state of mind right now, but you’ve gone too far to pull back now and honestly, if Mando won’t fuck you, you’ll just have to find someone else who will. “Lead the way.”

Swallowing the rest of your drink in one big guuuulp, your buddy of the night throws some credits down on the counter and thanks the bartender for the drinks and all but jumps to his feet. He links his hand with yours and begins escorting you out of the cantina.

The cool air feels amazing against your red-hot cheeks, your heart thumping in your chest full of danger, excitement, and arousal. This reminds you of your smuggling days. After a job, still feeling the aftershocks of your dicey run, you’d find someone worth your while and let them fuck you senseless in your ship. It makes you feel like you again. This is what you do—this is the routine you’ve created for yourself. This is familiar.

Giggling like a bunch of teenagers, neither of you are able to hide your eagerness. Not even after a couple blocks walk away from the cantina, he’s pushing you against the nearest wall of a quiet street, trapping you with his body. His breath reeks of alcohol, but in that sweet way that’s even more intoxicating. Your lips part, eyes staring at his own plush lips just a few inches away from you. This wouldn’t be possible with Mando. You could never look at his face; look at his lips and crush them with yours, or feel his tongue brush against yours. No, this will have to do.

A gentle hand comes up and holds your chin in place. He’s not as tall as Mando either, you barely have to strain your neck to look up at him, but this will have to do. Bringing his face close to yours, you think he’s about to kiss you, but his lips pass yours and comes right to your ear.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers, his hot breath touching your even hotter skin. His voice sends shivers down your spine—not the way Mando’s voice does but this will have to do.

Your hands come flying up to grab fistfuls of his hair, pulling him back just so you’re inches away from each other’s face again. It would barely take any effort to close the gap and feel his lips against yours. Closing your eyes, you wait for him to make the first move. Despite you two knowing absolutely nothing about the other, he seems to catch on to your body language quickly, because the next thing you know, he’s crushing his lips on yours.

It’s not elegant or gentle, it’s needy and desperate. His teeth clash against yours, causing you both to pull away momentarily to chuckle before dipping back to each other’s mouths—more elegantly this time.

His mouth tastes like alcohol, it fills your nostrils and tastebuds with such aggression, it’s almost attacking them. Pressing his body further into yours, you could feel the outline of his hard cock brushing your thigh, forcing out a moan through your lips. In return, he forces his tongue through your open mouth, flicking your bottom lip and meeting yours. The hand on your cheek disappears, then both of them travel down your neck, grabbing your breasts and giving them a gentle squeeze before trailing down your abdomen and settling on your waist, wrapping them around you tightly in an effort to pull you closer to him.

Your mind tries to focus on this moment, on the man touching and kissing you, but you’re unable to shake the feeling you’re being watched. Pulling away from him, your back goes rigid at the sight of the Mandalorian just a few feet away from you two. The stranger from the cantina turns his head and nearly jumps back at the sight.

“What are you doing?” The Mandalorian growls, his vocoder scratching dangerously low, making your whole body shiver in fear.

“Uh—I—uh—we were—uh—” You manage to choke out, entire physique trembling from head to toe.

His helmet turns to face the stranger you were just making out with and he all but snarls when addressing him. “I suggest you leave.”

Turning to you, his eyes wide shot in absolutely terror, you can assume this is the first time he’s ever seen a Mandalorian, let alone a seething Mandalorian. “Are y-you gon-n-na be okay?” He stutters.

“She’ll be fine.” Mando answers for you.

Unable to get rid of the lump in your throat, you offer him a nod and within seconds, the brunette is gone. You’re left alone with Mando, in a horribly lit street in Mos Eisley—just like you were a couple days ago.

“I told you to stay at the hangar.” He spits out from what you assume is gritted teeth. The helmet gives no insight as to what Mando’s expression could be but somehow the visor burning into you right now is the most frightening and the most arousing thing you can imagine.

“I just wanted some fresh air.”

“The hangar is an open space. It’s full of fresh air.”  

Noticing his hands clenched into fists at his sides and his back as stiff as a board, your little stunt has infuriated him more than you thought it would, and for some sick reason, that turns you on even more.

“Let’s go. Now.” He orders, body whipping around so fast his cape makes a loud whoosh noise as it whisks behind him.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the mental exhaustion from the day, but you’re pretty fucking tired of being bossed around by him. Despite being somewhat intoxicated and feeling your body sway, you straighten out your shoulders, cross your arms against your chest and muster as much strength as you can and say, “No.”

Mando stops in his tracks, the tip of his helmet turning ever so slowly until his head can’t turn any more. “What did you say?”

“I said no.”

Before you can fully understand what’s happening, Mando rushes towards you. At first you want to recoil from his sudden movement, but you plant yourself further into the ground, continuing to hold yourself in your stance.

“You don’t scare me.” Whether or not you’re trying to convince him or yourself that, it’s unclear, but the fact that Mando doesn’t pull away indicates that he clearly doesn’t believe you.

“I don’t?” He asks coyly as he cocks his head to the side, knowing damn well what he’s doing.

Moving into your body at a dangerously slow rate, your body mimics his as you feel yourself gradually leaning back. You’re losing balance, and if you don’t find some way to steady yourself, you’ll end up falling back on your bum. Thinking quickly, your left leg flies behind you, enabling you to get your footing in the sand and keep from falling backwards.

“Why does your body language tell me otherwise?” He’s downright taunting you right now. Mando gets off seeing you struggle under his authority.

“Because you’re pushing yourself into me!” You shriek.

“I don’t see you fighting back.”

It’s at this moment you realize, no matter how many men you meet in cantinas, no matter how many of them you spend the night with or even a moment with, no matter how drunk you get yourself in order to enjoy these one night stands, none of that will ever matter because it’ll never compare to how Mando makes you feel. No one in this kriffing galaxy will ever get your heart racing and your blood pounding like he does. No one will be able to drive you fucking crazy the way he does.

The stranger at the bar might have been able to get you wet and aching to be touched—probably not even wanting to be touched by him though. However, it’s nothing compared to the burning pit of desire that’s pooling inside you in Mando’s presence. He’s only touched you once but it wasn’t enough. Nothing will ever be enough. You want him, you fucking need him more than you would ever admit.

From the way you see it, you have two options to choose from. You can either yield to Mando’s dominance and follow him back to the Crest, feeling guilty and sorry for yourself or you can challenge him back, establish your own independence and see how far you can defy him. Given that you can be a pretty big fucking brat, you opt for the latter.

Pushing yourself forward while using your left leg and lowering your arms to your sides for extra balance, your breasts graze against his beskar cuirass while your legs shift to stand shoulder-width apart. Having to crane your neck upwards to look straight into the T of his visor, it’s somewhat uncomfortable but you’re trying to prove a point right now, so you’ll deal with the stress on your neck until the point’s been made clear.

Your chest is heaving, heartrate unbelievable fast as you stand so fucking close to each other, neither of you wanting to break the almost suffocating suspense by speaking. No, right now you’re both locked in a fight for dominance, wondering who will be the one to either pull away or close the tiny gap between your bodies. It might be the alcohol, but you’re feeling rather audacious, and you want to continue pushing him, push him passed his limits until he becomes the feral animal you know is clawing inside of him. The adrenaline rush you had kissing that kind stranger from the bar is fucking nothing compared to this. This is making your veins ignite with fire, burning through your entire core and not even the breeze can cut the heat radiating off your skin.

“Stop,” Mando says breathlessly, sounding more like a plea than an order.

“I don’t see you fighting back,” You repeat, drawling out every word so he knows you’re mocking him. The tables have flipped, you’re the one holding the power and it’s fucking invigorating. Having a Mandalorian practically beg you is sending sparks of arousal right to your throbbing cunt, resisting the urge to rub your thighs together to relieve some of the pain building up in the apex of your legs.

“You wouldn’t want to see me fight back.” Fuck, this is getting too much.

The baritone of his voice scratches low in the vocoder, sending shocks straight to your belly, while also suggesting he’s pulling back from fully allowing himself to do whatever his body hungers for. But you’re not, in fact you’re just getting started because now you know you’re affecting him, and the liquor in your bloodstream is making you a lot bolder than you normally would be.

“I don’t think you could fight back.” Obviously a lie, you know damn well he can fight back but you’re incessant need to toy with him, to continue to mock him until he absolutely loses his fucking mind is too inviting, you can’t stop yourself.

“Maker, I said stop.” Mando growls, drawing closer towards you to the point you’re leaning back again, invading your space so deliciously. Your sense of smell is engulfed with the aroma of metal and his musk, you’re practically drunk on him alone. Knowing you’ll need to choose your next words wisely; you opt for the ones you know will force him over the edge. Swallowing the gigantic lump in your throat, your gaze deepening into the eye slit of his visor, you speak low and as cunning as you can giving the current circumstance.

“Make me.”

In a swift movement, Mando’s gloved hands come up and grip your biceps, not hard enough to hurt but definitely strong enough for you to understand who’s actually in charge. He holds you tightly as he all but pushes you against the closest wall, the duracrete digging into your shoulder blades. Pressing into you, the beskar holding you in place, you feel the bulge in his pants grinding against your lower stomach. Your pussy is disgustingly wet, panties drenched as they stick to you.

Head pushed against the wall behind you, it’s difficult to properly look into the black slit of his helmet, but you try your hardest to maintain eye contact with him, to show him you’re not backing down without a proper fight…or whatever else might occur. His own chest is heaving, armour flush against your torso, locking you in this intimate moment. Wanting to touch him, one of your hands draws up from your side slowly, not entirely sure where exactly to place it. Flicking your tongue along your lower lip, and using the liquid courage that’s a mix of liquor and arousal, you push your palm between your bodies and grab hold of the growing erection in his pants. The noise that Mando makes is guttural, one of his hands letting go of your bicep to punch into the wall behind you.

“Fuck,” He moans, the helmet coming passed your head to press into the duracrete structure. The very end of the helmet scratches the crook of your neck, and you lean into it, feeling the beskar bring coolness to your hot cheek. Your hand continues to grope him, gently rubbing against his pants causing friction and feeling his cock twitch in your palm.

“We h-have to get back to t-t-the ship,” Mando pleads, still rough and low as he seems to be getting angrier with himself because he’s unable to pull away, and his body moves closer into yours, pushing you hard against the rough surface behind you while his beskar is flush on your chest, making it hard to breathe and difficult for you to continue teasing him. Quick, short breaths are coming consistently through the vocoder, your pussy gushing hearing his sweet groans.

Your right hand fumbles its way to his belt, both hands now frantically trying to undo the zipper of his pants. The helmet dips down, resting it on your shoulder as he watches one of your hands disappear into his trousers, and play with the waistband, toying with him. The scorching heat between your thighs is becoming too much, your cunt throbbing uncontrollably, begging to alleviate some of the tension but right now, this is about Mando. This is for Mando.

When you feel confident enough that he’s fully under your control, your hand pushes through the waistband and cups his erection. Mando curses under his breath, grinding himself against your hold in a feeble attempt to please himself. Maker, his cock is big—you don’t even have to look at it to feel it’s the biggest one you’ve ever felt. If you thought you were turned on before, this new information sends ripples through your entire body, your mouth watering, desperately wanting to taste him. With the little room you have to move, you begin lowering yourself down to the ground, and drop to your knees. The sand cuts into your pants, it’s somewhat uncomfortable, but you push through the discomfort because you’re about to put his cock in your mouth and drive him fucking crazy.

The street is barely lit, which unfortunately means you can barely see what’s in front of you, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing right now matters other than making him feel as good as he made you feel a couple nights ago. You want to show him what he’s been missing, what he’s been denying himself. Lowering his trousers just enough to spring his cock free, it bounces just inches from your lips. Heat continuously building in your belly, you adjust your hand to hold him at the base, and admire him. Your head bobs forward, tongue coming out to lick the precome forming at the tip of his length. A big hand comes down firmly on your shoulder, steadying himself as he continues to curse into the helmet.

“F-fuck, that feels good.”

Letting out a deep breath through your nostrils to calm your nerves and swallowing the lump in your throat, your jaw slacks as much as it can and you take him in your mouth, surrounding him with your warmth. Mando nearly convulses on the spot, feeling his hips buck, pushing more of himself into your mouth. Stars, you’ve never had a dick this big in your mouth and you’re worried you might not be able to take all of him, but you push through it, inching himself more and more passed your lips until you feel him reach the back of your throat. Your body shakes, fighting your gag reflex as he sits there on your tongue, hands bracing themselves on his hips, so you have more control.

“Look at you, taking my whole cock in your mouth. S-such a good girl.”

Mando’s praises practically make you swoon, and once you feel relaxed enough, you ease him out of your mouth and begin bobbing your head up and down the length of his girth, obscene and filthy sounds echoing through the street. You develop a rhythm, bobbing your neck down his cock a few times and then taking him as far as he’ll go, now no longer worried about gagging as you basically fucking choke on him. Tears are forming in the corners of your eyes, but you don’t stop, you can’t fucking stop because the whimpers coming from Mando are enough to push you over the edge. He grits out admirations like a prayer, the grip on your shoulder so tight it almost hurts, but you’re too entranced at the moment to give a shit about the bruise that’s no doubt forming on your skin.

His cock continues to slide in and out between your lips, feeling every curve, every vein, every fucking inch of him down to the pubic hair that tickles your nose when he rests fully inside your mouth. The tension in your pussy is excruciating, needing some kind of friction to alleviate some of the pressure, so one of the hands on his hips disappear and flies into your own pants, passed your undies, starting to rub tight circles around your clit. The immediate touch down your pants causes you to moan, sending vibrations along the Mandalorian’s length between your lips.

“Stars, you’re so good at this. How do you make it feel so fucking good?” He whispers breathlessly, now fully fucking himself into your mouth. Tears stream down your face at a consistent rate, but everything feels too good to stop. It’s overstimulating, it’s overwhelming but in the best fucking way possible. You on your knees, while Mando grinds his hips more aggressively into you. Feeling your own orgasm slowly building, you wrap your lips around Mando tighter, hallowing your cheeks as you draw him in at a quicker pace.

“Shit, you’re g-gonna ma-ake me c-c-ome,”

Rather than say something, you bob your head even faster, spit dribbling down your lips as you continue to take his cock deep in your mouth, swallowing a mixture of saliva and precome and groaning loudly. Mando recites a series of curses and praises as you feel his body tensing while he gets closer to his own orgasm. The fingers on your clit become erratic, no longer having the same rhythm because you’re too focused on getting Mando to come in your mouth to focus on pleasuring yourself properly.

“Oh—shit, fuck, fuck yes, j-just like t-that. You want me to c-c-come in your pr-r-retty little mouth?” He taunts, chest heaving unlike you’ve ever seen before. The power trip you’re on right now is amazing, and Maker you want him to see you as he comes. Through hooded lids, you peer up at him, the faint shape of his helmet beaming off the moons of Tatooine. You don’t see his eyes but it doesn’t matter, you know he’s looking down at you in awe. It’s a struggle to continue to please him while trying to maintain eye contact with him but you refuse to peel your eyes away from the visor. You want him to see you with your mouth full of his come, you want him to see you suck every bit of his seed out of him, and watch you swallow it like a champ.

Mando’s cock twitches in your mouth and stiffens for a moment, and then he’s coming, really fucking hard and for a second you wonder if you’ll even be able to swallow all of it. As he comes, you hollow your cheeks even more, sucking every last drop of his seed and swallowing it, and then your own orgasm creeps up on you and then smashes into you. It fucking rips you apart from the inside out, white-hot pleasure exploding from every nerve ending, and you cry out with his cock still in your mouth, causing some of his come to trickle down from the corners of your lips.

Once he’s finally done coming, his hand leaves your shoulder to tuck himself back in his pants before hooking both hands under your shoulders to lift you up to eye level. Your breathing is erratic, and your knees burn from the friction of the sand rubbing against the material of your pants. Head lulling back to lean along the wall behind you, your eyes flutter open, completely exhausted. Using one of his fingers, Mando wipes the come dripping down your lips and before he can do anything else, using the very limited strength you have, your hand clasps down on his wrist, taking it into your mouth and sucking whatever seed is on his finger, tasting him and leather in your mouth.

“Stars…” Mando remarks in absolute admiration. The corners of your lips curl into a sheepish smile, the weight of the fatigue fully taking you over. Your head dips in front of you, and rests on Mando’s chest, the instant cooling relief of beskar on your forehead.

“We have to get back to the ship.” He repeats, his baritone gentle but still low and raspy.

“Mmm…” You mumble back, unable to find the words.

“You’ll have to walk back, is that okay? The Crest isn’t far away.”

Head lifting up enough to nod, Mando takes a step back so you can get your bearings. The alcohol and the post-orgasm high make you woozy, but you force yourself to be somewhat conscious, blinking rapidly and rolling your shoulders back in an effort to show him you’ll be all right enough to head back to the hangar. “Lead the way, sir.”

A drawn-out breath emits from the helmet, and he tilts his head to the side like he wants to push you up against the wall once again but ultimately decides not to and turns on his heel to make way for the ship. Your feet are working slower than your brain, because it takes a couple of seconds for them to register that you want to walk. At first they buckle, probably because you’ve been on your knees for the last however many minutes, but eventually you’re able to trail behind him wearily as you both walk in silence to the hangar. Unlike you, there’s absolutely no hint that Mando just got his dick sucked in public. You on the other hand, are slouching when you walk, feeling the uncomfortable stickiness between your legs from your orgasm becoming more and more awful the longer you move.

When the hangar door comes into view, there’simmediate relief that swoons you. You want to rest, want to relax as there’s a slight headache now prodding at you—definitely a result from the night’s events. Peli sits around a makeshift fire, her droids also gathered around, no green baby in sight.

“Ah he found you!” She exclaims, gesticulating in your direction before rising to her feet to join you and Mando. “The little one’s inside the ship, by the way.”

“Thank you, Peli.”

“Anytime, Mando. You know I like having you and the kid around.” She admits, a genuine smile appearing on her face. She looks over at you and it’s impossible to hide the shock smeared on her expression.

“Kriff, what the hell happened to you?”

“Sorry?” You ask, brows pulling tightly together.

“You look like hell, that’s what.” She says, quite unfiltered.

Your eyes peer down at the ground, fingers interlacing together, not being able to come up with a good, fake reason as to why you look like a mess. Her gaze jumps between you and Mando, and you think she’s mentally putting the image together in her brain before Mando speaks.

“We should get going. Don’t want to stay longer than we need to.”

This snaps Peli out of her thoughts, nodding as she agrees with the Mandalorian.

“Sure thing. Uh, travel safe you three.”

Mando’s helmet dips forward, before heading up the side ramp of the ship. You stand there for a few more seconds, wanting to give Peli a proper good-bye, but not knowing how to go about that. Your arm comes up behind you to rub the back of your neck, jaw slacking and opening your mouth to say something—to say what, you’re still unsure of.

“Well, I have to admit, it was nice seeing you again kid.” She says sincerely, and for the seconds time today, you see a glimpse of warmth and tenderness in her you’ve never seen before. She isn’t this cold-hearted, confrontational woman you had conjured up in your mind. She’s gentle in her own way. Kind. Sympathetic. It warms you and also saddens you. This is a side of her you could have seen all these years ago, had you allowed yourself and her the opportunity. Instead, you had this pre-conceived idea of who she was, and didn’t allow either of you to have a different perspective of each other. It’s only now that you may never see each other again that you realize how alike you two are.

“Yeah, it was nice seeing you too, Peli.”

“Take care of each other,” She leans over and places a gentle hand on your forearm. Looking down to where her hand touches you, you feel a surge of emotions. Not just your own, but hers as well. Regret. Pain. Resolve. Hope. All of these subconscious emotions filling you up, making your head spin.

Turning your body, you head up the ramp to the ship’s hull. Peeping over to the fresher, you really should sanisteam, but the fatigue is too intense. You really just want to sleep in that shitty chair in the cockpit and deal with all your responsibilities when you wake up.

Taking to the ladder is a bit of struggle. You have no strength left, and but are forced to conjure some up just to make it to the top. When you see the floor at the top, you grab onto it and hoist yourself to the top, landing on your knees. For a moment, you actually consider just crawling over to the chair, but that seems a little…excessive, therefore you force yourself to your feet and drag them along the ground as you finally reach the chair. Collapsing into it immediately, this chair has never felt more comfortable in your life and the moan you let out once you feel yourself relaxing in it is downright obscene, but you don’t care. Instantly regretting every time you’ve complained about this chair, because right now it’s your saving grace. You’ll never leave this clump of leather; you swear it to the Maker.

“Where’re we headed, now?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you ask Mando who sits in the pilot’s chair, flicking switches and hearing the Crest’s thrusters come to life.

“Corvus.”

“Mmm? What’s on Corvus?”

“A Jedi.”

A Jedi? You’ve never had the opportunity of meeting a Jedi, but you’ve heard stories—good and bad ones. How they’re to blame for starting the Clone Wars. How they destroyed the Empire and freed the galaxy from tyranny.

You want to ask why you’re heading to meet a Jedi, but you succumb to sleep before you can ask him, the taste of the Mandalorian still lingering on your tongue.

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DEVILSERPENT: Taken from when we celebrated our small, but meaningful honeymoon, yet another day that’s tucked in deep within the heart that I’d never thought would beat so yearningly for someone before. It feels forever and beyond has passed, doesn’t it? Since the second we laid eyes upon one another. I remember how enticed I was from that one passing moment alone – you were not like any other that I had seen or met, the underdog that was chewed by everyone around him and yet remained to hold inferno that could conflagrate every inch and thread of my being. When I grew up, I was raised in an environment where love was a ludicrous thing and attraction implied nothing but material rewards – assignment after assignment went by to chisel me into something that was entirely unloveable. And to think of it now, I am still astounded by how much of kindred spirits we had always been. We were both sewn by tragedies, by the surroundings that were anything but kind, and we bit the world and hands that tried to care for us. It was peculiar in theory how we eventually ended up strung together, and yet here we are, and then I started believing that it had always been fate all along. I remember being convinced that soulmates never existed – that the other half of our existence was made up by nothing but anecdotes and fairy tales that were not made for people like me, like us, but now there is nothing that can reduce my belief that we have always meant to come into one. There are many evidences of that – how we clashed, volcanoes erupting against one another, hell-stricken, and yet when the night collapsed we’d discover ourselves still in each other’s arms. If that isn’t fate, and if you aren’t the one piece that completes me,  then I’m not sure what would be. I’m not sure if I would ever believe in anything else anymore. 

Cyrek, my soulmate, my rockstar – we have grown up a lot since, but there is not a day where I don’t crave you the way I always had. They say attraction falters once the novelty wears off, but that is not the sentiment that I can relate to. We may have grown older, but each second I spend without you by my side is the hardest to endure. I do not care if you’re ill, I do not care if there are days where you might not be able to embrace me the way you usually would; every moment I lie down next to you and being able to watch you drift off into sleep, no matter how short-lived, is already more than enough for me. You are enough. I know that you doubt that very often. Your worth, your values, but I do hope that one day you will realize how important you are by just existing and being yourself. I don’t give a single shit about the flaws that you may have, I have loved those for years, and I have loved YOU for years, and nothing about that will ever change. You’re still the person who brought me out of my confinement so we could watch the world and moon spin together. So I could breathe in the air, and wake to the sound of your humming in the morning. You’re still the person that breathed life into me and pulled genuine laughter out of me sincerely for the first time in God knew how long. You taught me ventures, and affections, and stupid quarrels and love. No matter how many anniversaries that we’ll have, that would never ever change and I will be here even through your worst days. Kind of funny, huh? How willing I am to drop many off my proximities, but for you, and you alone, I will be here.

We have built so much over the years. Our marriage, our entire army of children, this little found family that I admit I’m still trying to warm up to entirely and the trailer that we share our nights in. It has not always been easy, and yes, you can be a hardass and I can be a complete brat, but we make it work - don’t we? I’ve learned that wealth means nothing when the person that you long to be is not around and that simplicity in life is not always bad. Of course, there isn’t anything simple about our relationship in nature and I kind of love that about us a lot, but when it comes to living, just sitting at the porch and on your lap while summer heat breezes in and you tell me about your shitty days and those creatures you are not allowed to name, that feeling is, undoubtedly, indescribable. I want more of that and I always will. I crave not for the exquisite things, but the little ticks where we can be intimate together after our long days or rowdy exchanges, where I can just stare at you and be content that you are still around. With me. If there is one wish that I could say for this anniversary, is that I would like to be able to have another year writing this sappy shit while you work your odd jobs and I am waiting for you to come home. And next year, I will wish for the same. I am yours, and I forever will be. Happy anniversary, Cyrek, I love you deeply. ♥ @devilsprxphct