#also that you enjoy the banner I spent several hours on that trying to get it to look right and i think it looks nice :D

[hepbaestus]

Happy birthday Fitpacs!!

🥳🥳🥳 Happy birthday @fitpacs 🥳🥳🥳

I wrote you a lil (I say little but it's like 2k words 🤷) something for your birthday and here that is! There's also a little note from me at the end as well!

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Fic starts here

(under the read more)

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Ramón and Richarlyson sat on the cobblestone floor of the Shit Shack surrounded by the little beings that followed and whispered in their dad’s ears. It had been weird at first, to see their dads be followed by little rats and eggs with legs, but they’d gotten used to it as they spent more time with their dads. Over time they’d learned their mannerisms; how certain chitters the ratinhos made meant certain things and how, when the huevitos clasped their hands to their faces, it meant that they were giggling at something or had done something that Fit had not been made aware of yet. They had not yet mastered the art of fluent communication but they could roughly estimate what the animated creatures meant. They’d both dedicated several hours to learning the language of the beings that were essentially their siblings and if that was predominantly so that they could coordinate a prank on their dads, no one would tell.

The little beings liked to climb the children where they sat, with huevitos swinging from the tail ends of Ramón’s meathead hat, having the time of their life and the ratinhos liked to climb and snake their way up Richarlyson’s sleeve and rest on his shoulders, taking a nap before getting shoved off by a fellow ratinho. The two kids had run themselves ragged, causing mayhem together as they enjoyed their childhoods, unlike their dads had.

They had spent time with their Tio Mike, whilst their dads had gone on a date, and had managed to perfect the hissing sound that their Tio made when focusing on a project. They had been somewhat sternly told not to make it when around their dad Fit, for they did not want to be the cause of a flashback to his time in the Wastelands, by their Tio but then were granted permission to do it freely at the ranch.

A huevito with a silver Elven circlet poked Ramón’s cheek, wanting his attention, before holding her dominant hand out with her middle finger extended towards her shell as she touched what would be her chin and then chest with that finger before pointing to another huevito, as if to say something to Ramón. The child tilted his head in confusion, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he was unsure of what the huevito was trying to say. Another huevito joined the first, this huevito had a sticky note with a drawn on emoticon for a face, mimicking drawing something to Richarlyson who nodded in understanding before using his warp totem and vanishing in a flurry of purple particles.

He’d returned a few minutes later as Ramón was still trying to figure out what the first huevito had signed, with art supplies under his arms and small bags of pens and other miscellaneous art things, before laying them all out on the deck, using the brown teddy bear that rested on the ‘Emergency Cookie Fund’ chest as a paperweight. When the wind picks up a little and a piece of paper flies away into the world, not likely to be seen again, Richarlyson lays face first on the ground, as if he was falling into pieces, making the ratinhos chitter in amusement before dashing off quickly to find another makeshift paperweight.

It’d taken time and effort but they’d decorated the Shit Shack with different coloured banners, streamers and art that the ratinhos and huevitos had put up with the help of their larger egg counterparts. A huevito that had a penguin beak on a string as their identifiable accessory was driving a truck, a gift to Ramón from their Tio Phil after an offhand question on whether his dad would be a submarine or a truck, delivering different pens, paper and other such stationery to their friends across the deck, having the time of his life speeding around. Ramón and Richarlyson took to decorating the outside wall of the house with multicoloured fairy lights, using some dragon magic to get them high enough so that Fit and Pac wouldn’t hit their heads on it as they entered the door. It was an organised chaos to them, knowing what to do and where different decorative items were to go.

A couple of the ratinhos had been tasked with distracting the huevito who looked like a miniature version of what Pac had described himself as an egg, but wearing a purple hoodie with a black labrador resting in the hood, for it was their birthday and they wanted to celebrate it just like they had with the other huevitos and ratinhos. As a family. They’d been sequestered to the inside of the house, with access to both floors through small gaps in the ceiling.

The night before Ramón had stayed up later than his norm to make an obstacle course out of books on shelves, plant pots, stuffed toys and anything else that he could find, in hopes that it would distract the huevito long enough for the others to set up decorations and find some food that they could eat. It extended to the upper floor through a small gap in the ceiling that Ramón had fashioned a tiny ladder from wood chips to fit through so that the assault course could continue upstairs. There were numerous pathways and blockages that meant that the small ones were forced to take their time in finding the exit. Fit hadn’t taken notice of it as he’d received a message from Pac asking if they could go on a date exploring together, too giddy with nerves and excitement to pay attention to his surroundings outside of himself and Ramón.

It’d taken a bit of dragon magic to get the banner with large penmanship reading ‘happy b1thday!’ in various colours and mediums, all surrounded by paw and handprints from everyone who’d helped as their signatures up on the wall. Ramón and Richarlyson had also signed it, and had messaged their Tio Mike to make a quick interference with their dad’s date to get their signatures on the banner before quickly returning it and pinning it to the cobblestone exterior.

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The pair returned to the Shit Shack when the moon was high in the sky and stars shined bright, having lost count of time when in the other's presence. They’d missed their sons. Climbing the ladder, Pac noticed the decorations that had been left up.

“Fitchie! Who’s birthday- whose birthday is it today? It’s- it’s not Ramón’s or Richinhas. It’s not yours, is it Fit? Do you have two birthdays?” Pac crouched close to Fit, trying to pry out an answer from his beloved.

Fit chuckled, “no. No, I’m not the Queen. You know when my birthday is Pac,” as he looked around the platform from where his head poked up from the ladder. Pac stood tall as Fit spoke, dropping the detective voice he was using.

“Then whose birthday is it? Why here?” Pac asks openly, not looking closely at the decorations. His hands swung by his side as he walked around the deck, glossing over everything that had changed since that morning when he’d come to pick Fit up for their date.

Standing up from his spot on the top rung of the ladder, Fit’s eyes are drawn to the banner strung across the doorway of his house. It was crudely done, Fit noted, with spelling errors and misshapen lettering. But it looked like it was made with love and attention, he hoped whomever did have their birthday party at his felt that affection.

He opens the door, looks to his side of the room before looking at Ramón’s. Nothing had changed on his side so he couldn’t help but let his face soften in awe. It was the cutest sight he’d ever seen. Lifting his hand from the doorknob he quietly walks to Pac, tapping his shoulder and holding a singular finger to his lips before walking the few steps to the front door. They both walk back and into the lower room and gaze upon the sight in front of them.

There, on Ramón’s bed, was both of their sons and their miniature companions that they’d missed the nattering of as they went on their date. The ratinhos, especially, liked to mess with their blue counterpart by timing romantic songs as soon as Pac caught sight of Fit. He’d been told this not long after they’d gotten together, finally understanding Pac’s stumbling over his words when they’d been decorating the Favela’s central waystone before Christmas. It had made him laugh, for his own counterpart had not yet gained the privilege of doing that, after having too frequently demanded that he do certain things.

Their kids, the miniature counterparts included, were sleeping in a puppy pile, with huevitos strewn across their ratinho partners and vice versa. Some had climbed their kids' sleeping bodies and rested on their chests, seeking the soothing sound of their heartbeats. A couple of ratinhos and huevitos had scaled Ramón’s sniffer plushie and had rested on the green fabric of its back, basking in its fluffiness. They’d cooed at the sight, hearts warmed with love. It was a rare thing, serenity, on the island. So the sight that lay in front of them greatly moved them emotionally as they took photos. The sounds of little snores and breaths from their children could be faintly heard despite the sound of their camera shutter of their comm devices.

They stepped closer, wanting to enjoy the moment before heading to sleep themselves, when they noticed that the cuddle pile was centred around one huevito specifically. A huevito who’d clearly been wearing a paper hat with a crown drawn on it, that hat had been slightly crumpled under their body, as Pac could see. They sniffled slightly before awakening to see Fit and Pac staring at them. In shock, their head turned to both sides to see no other companion awake so they sat and stared back at the two larger beings.

“Oiii,” Pac whispers to them, not wanting to scare them out of their shell, “boa noite pequenina. Was it your birthday?” He crouches so that his height seems less intimidating, gesturing for Fit to do the same as the huevito nods once still in shock.

“Well then. I guess a happy birthday is in order. Isn’t that right, Pac?” Fit speaks, voice rumbling moderately as he crouches, knees making a clicking sound as he does. He shakes his head at the sound, sighing once before looking at his boyfriend.

“I think so. I think that would be right Fitch,” Pac answers, softly looking at his partner before turning his head back towards the huevito who was having trouble keeping their eyes open, “do you want us to sing you happy birthday?”

The huevito nods excitedly, still trying to stay upright as sleep truly begins to overtake them. The two chuckle at the sight, amused and content. It was not often that they could properly interact with their pocket-sized companions, for the hustle and bustle of the island took a large part of their focus, as did raising their children.

They start to sing, Fit’s voice in a lower register than Pac’s cheerful tone. As the song continues the huevito falls asleep, tiny hands resting underneath them as they wiggle in their spot to get into the perfect sleeping position. Halfway through the song, when the huevito is deep into the throes of sleep, Fit takes off the green, partially worn out bandana from around his neck, folds it into the size of a pocket square and gently lays it on the sleeping huevito. With a singular finger he smoothes it flat before standing back up, knees once again making a sound that shouldn’t happen at the age of 34.

Pac stands up, stretching his arms above his head as he yawns, Fit yawning shortly after, before nodding his head towards Fit’s own bed. The two sleepily stumble into bed, cuddling close on Fit’s too small mattress for them both before they follow in their companion and children’s footsteps and fall asleep.

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Fic ends here

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Hiya!

I hope your day has gone well and that you felt as appreciated on your birthday as much as we all appreciate you.

I wanted to write you something for your birthday as a way to thank you for what you've done on qsmpblr, for (as I've said many times that it may be getting repetitive) being an absolute sunshine when things weren't so great and for just being yourself. We've all appreciated it so much and I thought that I would return the favour, so here that is. I hope this piece of writing conveys that feeling of appreciation and love.

This is just a little something that I've been cooking up for you since you mentioned that your birthday was coming up (we're kinda birthday buddies, mine's next week on the 20th).

Happy birthday, once again.

From,

Hep <3

p.s. I can send you the anonymous viewing link to the google doc in our dms so that you have it there as well

[theanimeview]

[Event Review] Anime Pasadena 2023

By: Katherine Cañeba | @kcserinlee

TL/DR

This was a very enjoyable and well-attended mid-tier convention (around 15,000 attendees) with a lot of official vendors, art vendors, and English VAs hosting panels/meet-and-greets. Spend one day if you’re mainly planning to shop; spend two days if you also want to attend panels. Plan to arrive as soon as possible in the morning because once parking at the convention center fills up, additional parking structures in the surrounding area will require a good amount of walking to get to and from the convention.

Location: Pasadena Convention Center, 300 E Green St, Pasadena, CA 91101

Date: 4-5 November 2023

I attended for Day 1 and spent it mainly on shopping and slightly on exploring. The venue was an appropriate size given the scale of the event. It felt spacious enough to house all the vendors, main stage, gaming area, photo op zone, and still had open floor space in the hallways to sit, rest, or eat. I also appreciate that there was an information table at the entrance to each building in the venue.

Food options abounded, starting with a couple of food trucks that had incredibly long lines in the outdoor plaza on Green Street and a conveniently-located Starbucks that was part of the convention center itself. The location in downtown Pasadena also afforded attendees a wide variety of surrounding restaurants. My friend and I ended up getting lunch at the soft opening of a new restaurant a couple of blocks away called “Tokyo Chick.” They had a banner up across the street from the convention center to attract hungry con-goers who didn’t want to wait for up to an hour for food from the food trucks. Considering how busy it was at Tokyo Chick, we liked that the wait from the back of the line to receiving one’s food was around half an hour. Everyone was required to take their order to-go, and the to-go boxes were placed in a Tokyo Chick-branded reusable polyurethane bag that could be brought back to the restaurant for a discount on your next order. If you find yourself at Tokyo Chick in the near future, I recommend trying the karaage!

Health and Safety Policy

The Pasadena Convention Center states on their website that they are in ADA compliance with everything from designated parking, to restrooms, to service animals. As is somewhat standard now across California conventions, there was no strong encouragement to wear masks, and masking was entirely up to individual preference. While I did I see several attendees wearing masks, the majority of people were not and I did not observe any pressure or harassment of masked individuals by unmasked ones, or vice versa.

Vendor Hall & Artist Alley

Cosplay Areas

Cosplayers freely roamed the venue and were concentrated most heavily in the outdoor plaza on Green Street. This area is where people could best admire the cosplayers from afar, or interact with them and ask for photos.

Entertainment – Attendee Experience

Once we made it to the front of the registration and badge pick-up line, there were no more long lines to contend with (not counting the lunch lines)—just convention fun! Between the Entertainment Hall, Cast Panels, and Artist Alley, I spent the majority of my time in the Artist Alley and enjoyed every moment.

Of course, every mid-size and larger anime convention worth one’s salt has a Main Stage, and true to form, the one here was playing a lineup of anime soundtrack cover singers, emcee jokes, and trivia contests with the audience. The photo booth area on the same floor as the Main Stage had many banners of popular anime, but the views were always obscured by people sitting on the floor or at round tables in front of them, so they were not very accessible for photo takers without having to ask for people to move. There were also giveaways to celebrate the 5th Anniversary of Anime Pasadena, but we arrived too late and decided not to participate since they had run out of everything we would have been interested in. However, other than these small letdowns, we had a great time and experienced a lot without feeling overwhelmed.

One lingering question I had about the convention management was that there was a dedicated convention center staff member in the Entertainment Hall (Dragon Hall Z) catching everyone at the door and verbally directing them to go straight downstairs towards the Main Stage area. The whole ground floor was off-limits to convention attendees for undisclosed reasons. It would have made more sense to have physical cordons, like retractable-belt barriers, and a sign put up to communicate this in addition to having a staff member present to ensure compliance.

In closing, Anime Pasadena was time and money well spent, and I encourage any anime fan who will be in the LA area in early November to plan for next year’s convention!

Final Judgments

Venue: 5/5

Staff: 5/5

Organization, Layout & Management: 4.5/5

Organization, Media Use: 5/5

Attendance: 5/5

Affordability: 4/5

Overall: 4.75/5

–

[joyful-soul-collector]

🌷Irondad Fanfic Rec List🌷

World’s Best Babysitter by @jen27ny

Summary: “The second Tony sees that Morgan’s favorite stuffed elephant grew to the size of a real elephant, he vows to himself to never ever let Scott babysit again.”

Relationships/Tropes: Scott Lang & Peter Parker, Scott Lang & Morgan Stark, Scott Lang & Tony Stark, Irondad, Spider-Sized Peter Parker, Babysitting, Crackfic

Review: This was so hilarious man I love how Peter made himself a Lego spaceship to be shrunk in, that's such a Peter thing to do

🌷

blood under my belt by pvrker

Summary: His sweatpants come off next, landing softly on the expensively tiled floor before he kicks them to the side. "What the fuck-"

It's a reasonable reaction, seeing the bright blotch of red inside the crotch of his pants. And Peter thinks, this can't be happening.

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Ironmom, Trans Peter Parker, Coming Out

Review: This is so so sweet! I love the way this Peter's reaction was described, and the way Pepper treated him with such kind gentleness, and how sweet Tony was after he found out what was going on. Just too freaking sweet and nice

🌷

Like A Bear by @an-odd-idea

Summary:

Whumptober 2020

Prompt 21: Hypothermia

Peter and Tony wake up sealed in a box, but it’s not just a box, and Peter’s not just a kid

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Kidnapped, Whumptober, Peter Parker Can’t Thermoregulate

Review: This story was great! The tension of Peter beginning to fall asleep and Tony panicking and doing his best to try and keep Peter warm was perfect, and I love how Rhodey was right there for Tony, waiting for him to wake up. So sweet <3

🌷

A Shrunken Spider by @an-odd-idea

Summary:  A fight with a magic-wielding foe leaves Peter shrunken and vulnerable. Luckily, Tony is there to take care of him until the spell wears off.

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Tiny Peter Parker

Review: This story was so cute! I love how Peter felt so safe in Tony's hand, as well as the part with the poptart haha. I think my favorite thing was that Tony kept holding Peter even as he was getting back to normal, it was so  s o f t

🌷

When You Smile I Am Undone by @superherotiger

Summary:  HI! IF YOU'RE STILL DOING THE DRABBLES, COULD YOU DO ONE WITH A THEATER NERD PETER? PREFERABLY HAMILTON BUT IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE!!!!! THANK YOU!! :D

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Theatre Nerd Peter Parker, Hamilton

Review: AAAAAAAAA this story had so much emotion??? It was so cool to see Tony's reaction to certain parts of the musical in relation to Peter, especially the part where Philip died. I hadn't even thought of how Tony would react to that tbh, so it was almost a surprise, but it made perfect sense for Tony to react rather strongly to it compared to other parts. Loved this fic, 10/10

🌷

Worst. Kidnappers. Ever. by @jen27ny

Summary: Not sure if this has been done before? But would you consider a prompt where Peter gets kidnapped but escapes easily, his kidnappers not even realizing that he's gone. So Peter gets home and is hanging out with Tony and then Tony gets a ransom call from the kidnappers but Tony just stares at Peter who just shrugs like its no big deal.

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Kidnapping, (sort of), Crackfic

Review: HAHA this fic was hilarious, I loved Peter's complete nonchalance, and I love how Tony was still worried about him even though Peter was right there and perfectly fine lol

🌷

That Would Be Enough by @superherotiger (Pt. 3 of Estranged Irondad AU, Pt. 1 & 2 linked ^^^)

Summary: Nicknames and Tony Stark seemed to come hand in hand.

With a single glance at someone he could conjure up a title that would brand them for years to come, much to the amusement and frustration of his close friends like Rhodey, Pepper and Happy. Sometimes the names were designed to annoy -the clench of Steve Roger’s jaw when he’d first called him Capsicle had been entertaining to say the least-, but most often they were affectionate. Playful. Reserved for those Tony cared for the most.

And his son Peter was no exception.

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Estranged Irondad AU, Gunshot wound

Review: AAAAAAAA THIS FIC IS SO SWEET AND SAD AT THE SAME TIME. I love how you can see them slowly starting to get closer to each other, slowly building up a bond of trust and love, and it's just so wholesome and perfect <3

🌷

I Hate You 3000 by @jen27ny 

Summary: I take need a fic where Peter playfully tells Tony that he hates him 3000. 😂😂😂😂😂 I'm begging you.

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Adult Peter Parker, Crackfic

Review: oh my god this was hilarious. I love that Peter trains the new younger avengers now, that's so cute, and my favorite part was when he listed all the inconvenient things that should happen to Tony haha

🌷

Cider by @tsuki-chibi (Pt. 3 of aro-ace dad and son, Pt. 18 of Aro-Ace Valentine fics)

Summary: Dating is a little more complicated when you're not interested in sex. Luckily, Peter has a great mentor.

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, AroAce Peter Parker, AroAce Tony Stark

Review: You all know I'm always here for Ace Irondad and Spider-Son and this was absolutely PERFECT I love it! I know I worry about the same things Peter talks about in this fic, so it was really nice to see those two talking about that type of stuff :D

🌷

When Your Colour Has Faded (We Will Paint It Back) by @littlemissagrafina (Pt. 3 of Discord Challenges)

Summary: "Peter, wha-" May started to ask before Peter cut her off, words suddenly spilling over where a moment ago there had been none.

"I don't have colour anymore. I'm dull, faded, and I don't know how to get myself back." Peter's voice was small, the almost numb resignation in it striking May and Tony to their cores. 

"I'm not who I used to be. I'm a broken pallet with dried up, cracking paint where I used to be bright, and colourful and I don't know what to do. I don't- I don't know how to get me back." The teenager's voice cracked on the last few words, desperation and despair shining in his eyes.

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, SpiderAunt, Depressed Peter Parker

Review: This fic was really sad but really nice at the same time. I like that both Peter and his parental figures noticed that something was wrong, I feel like it's usually one or the other in most fics, and I like that Peter asked for help when it was starting to get too bad. We definitely need more stories about characters getting help for their depression instead of suffering through it :']

🌷

Sleepy Crawler by @jen27ny 

Summary: Hi! Thank you so much for the prompt you wrote me! I loved it so much! I'm not sure if you are taking more or not but if you are, could you write one where Peter sleeps walking into Pepper and Tony's room, waking them both up! Fluff, cuddles, super sweet moment between the three of them? Thanks so much and you are an amazing writer! I always get a smile when I see you have written something x

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Ironmom, Peter Parker Sleepwalks

Review: This story was adorable! It's so cute how Peter subconsciously (or... unconsciously?) went to Tony and Pepper in his sleep when he was stressed out

🌷

If you look at any these stories, be sure to show the author your appreciation with a comment/kudos/reblog where applicable!

Click here for more fanfic rec lists!

[ppersonna]

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary-  after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks​ and @hongism​ for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.  

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. 

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily. 

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.  

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it. 

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water. 

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk. 

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.” 

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo. 

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?” 

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above. 

“You call Jimin a prince?” 

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband. 

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.” 

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.” 

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own. 

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.” 

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.” 

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid. 

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom. 

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed. 

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it. 

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can. 

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone. 

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway. 

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk. 

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read. 

He just matched with YOU. 

His best friend. 

His secret, lifelong crush. 

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it. 

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen. 

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other. 

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message. 

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone. 

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend. 

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone. 

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion. 

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff. 

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband. 

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line. 

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend. 

“It’s nothing!” 

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.” 

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off. 

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams. 

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback. 

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly. 

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures. 

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen. 

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. 

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is. 

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork. 

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you. 

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause. 

“What’s up?” He asks curiously. 

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner. 

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours. 

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own. 

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to. 

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator. 

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze. 

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”  

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face. 

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light 

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”  

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others. 

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park. 

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too. 

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth. 

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm. 

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing. 

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it. 

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face  down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck. 

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes. 

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently. 

“And I promise to never run away from you again.” 

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself. 

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again. 

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with. 

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing. 

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss. 

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours. 

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly. 

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed. 

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?” 

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement. 

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.” 

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited. 

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle  his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs. 

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. 

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more. 

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.” 

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable. 

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan. 

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water. 

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently. 

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue. 

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue. 

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets. 

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully. 

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.” 

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body). 

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are. 

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down. 

“Still dreaming?” 

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire. 

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes. 

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart. 

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout. 

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?” 

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug. 

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing. 

“I plan to find out everything.” 

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.” 

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss. 

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you. 

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.” 

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body. 

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.  

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands. 

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.” 

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation. 

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.” 

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off. 

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air. 

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt. 

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation. 

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion. 

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship. 

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister. 

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo 

© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Uh... maybe some of the Healthcare boys surprising one of the others (Time, maybe???l on his birthday?

Time sighed heavily, glaring at his computer. He could finish this charting tomorrow, but he hated leaving work unfinished. Glancing at the clock, he tried to ignore the guilty pang in his gut. He should have been home two hours ago.

Malon was going to kill him.

Scrolling through a surgical resident’s note, he edited and added a few extra tidbits of information and signed it. Well, that left… eight more.

It wasn’t like Time had planned for this to happen. Several emergent cases came up, knocking out what little free time he had to chart, eat, drink, anything. That was the nature of his particular specialty.

Time’s phone buzzed. Glancing at it, he saw several text messages from multiple people.

From Malon, a gentle reminder: Please get home before midnight, fairy boy. You promised me a dinner date, remember?

From Wind, an excited prompt: Hey, it’s so pretty outside, you gotta get out of the hospital and enjoy it!!

From Warriors, a loving but stern remark: You’d better not still be in the hospital by now, old man. You promised you’d hang out with us for drinks.

From Four, a self care note: Please make sure you take a break when you can.

From Twilight, a bunch of messages garnering confusion:

Hey ol

you shoulgure

ahdic

SORRY Wild can’t keep his grubby hands off the phone!! Just wondering when you were coming home.

From Wild: Get your sorry butt home >:( Twi keeps pacing and you’re not being very timely ;))

Time chuckled at the conglomeration, but he also felt the slightest twinge of pain. Because today was a very special day, but the only one who had bothered wishing him a happy birthday was Malon this morning.

It was silly to expect birthday wishes from the others. Time wasn’t even sure he’d told anyone it was his birthday. But it still stung a little.

Taking his first sip of water all day, he looked back at the computer when his phone buzzed again. He was tempted to ignore it, but the messages made him smile. Looking, he saw that it was from Sky.

Please come home. I don’t feel good.

Time swallowed. Read the text again. Felt his nerves prickle and his stomach churn uncomfortably. Sky never reported if he felt bad. It was part of the reason everyone had to be so alert around him.

What was wrong that he’d actually admit he didn’t feel well?

Sky, what’s wrong? He asked.

There was an agonizing thirty seconds where Sky didn’t reply, and Time swapped over to the chat with Malon, hastily asking if Sky was home and what was happening when the boy replied.

I just need you to come home.

Time looked at his computer. Then his phone. Then his computer again.

He logged out.

I’m on my way, Sky.

Time tried calling him a couple times but the young pilot wouldn’t answer. He didn’t say a word after Time said he was coming.

Time spent the next twenty minutes running different scenarios in his head and trying to call anyone, but suddenly nobody was answering their phones. It made him even more anxious, but he drove at a steady pace and tried not to let it overwhelm him.

When he got home, he hastily unlocked the door and was confused when all the lights were off. Was Sky somewhere in the dark?

The lights came on all of a sudden, and Time blinked.

“Surprise!” everyone shouted, surrounded by confetti and balloons with a banner that said “Happy Birthday!” hanging on the wall. Time traced over all the faces, settling in Sky’s gentle smile, and he leaned heavily against the wall.

“You could have given me a heart attack,” he remarked, relieved and happy but still jittery from the scare.

Legend snorted. “I mean you are old now, so none of us would be surprised.”

“Besides, we could all take care of you,” Hyrule added helpfully with a smile.

Chuckling, Time stepped forward and was engulfed in a gigantic hug from eight young men as Malon smiled gently at him in the background.

“Happy birthday, fairy boy,” she said with a wink.

[rococospade-main]

I've got a bit of an odd question, you've mentioned glove language a few times when writing Laurence and I was wondering if you had any resources/notes on it? I've spent a fair few hours trying to find helpful resources but to no avail lol. Don't feel pressured to answer this of course! I adore your writing and hope you're having a wonderful day!

So, this is the second version of this answer. The first one was shorter but much, much messier. I apparently had a lot to say on the topic. Thank you, anon, I’m glad you enjoy my fics (and enough to go looking into something from one of them)! The answer about resources is… uh, kinda.

Alright, so I’m gonna be upfront: these have citations, but the citations mean very little to me. I don’t have the academic grounding to speak to how accurate these are, and I’d ask you to treat this as a basis for hobby and fiction only. That being said, most sites talking about glove language are going to source one book from 1890: The Mystery of Love, Courtship and Marriage Explained by Henry J Wehman. (By the by, there are several guides to etiquette and manners from the Victorian period, and some of them are really funny.) If you want more detailed or vetted information about Victorians, I’d actually recommend jumping around the historical essay section of YouTube. Bernadette Banner has a lot of really cool videos on period clothing, just to start. 

Resources first:

This is the site I used when I was writing bits with glove language in Bloodborne fics last year. The page inludes an illustration showing different glove lengths (measured by buttons) https://victorianweb.org/art/costume/gloves.html

For a version that’s more accessible to e-readers, this has the relevant image transcribed: https://www.geriwalton.com/gloves-and-flirting-language/

Here’s some on handkerchief and fan flirtations: https://susannaives.com/wordpress/2012/02/the-mystery-of-love-marriage-and-courtship-explained-handkerchief-and-fan-flirtations/

Some stuff about rings and love letters: https://susannaives.com/wordpress/2012/06/victorian-lessons-how-to-flirt-with-gloves-the-importance-of-ring-position-and-writing-love-letters-that-get-you-married-or-not/

And some images talking about parasol, window, fan flirtations: https://mollybrown.org/the-language-of-flirtation/

Some notes about how I approach writing details in Bloodborne:

Usually I’ll find out about something by accident, google it a while, make a few notes, and then run with something I think would be interesting. This isn’t the best way to go about it, and I’m certainly missing nuance and details by handling it like this, but it’s fun and it gives readers something to follow up on their own time if they care to.

With gloves, I’d encourage you to look into the variety of nonverbal languages the upper classes used to communicate in Victorian England (floriography, handkerchief, fan and glove flirtations are probably the most prominent) and consider how they might end up applied. Bloodborne being a Japanese game blends really nicely, since Japanese is also a fairly indirect language and culture, so meaning can be inferred by layering in details and context.

Some real life notes about gloves: gloves were expensive, historically, and the patterns and techniques to make them are guarded by guilds. Handmade gloves tend to be better quality and more expensive; you can tell if a glove is handsewn by checking the fingers. Pointed fingertips are handsewn gloves, while machine-sewn gloves are squared off. I tend to draw workman’s gloves with square tips even if them being handsewn would make more sense (Gehrman seems like he’d make his own gloves) for the rougher appearance it grants. Kid leather is a high-quality leather made from kids (young goats) that’s valued for being supple, thin, but reasonably durable. You can learn more about leather finish by looking at the wikipedia page for grades of leather. Kid leather gloves were a very expensive accesory, the sort of thing you’d expect to see at a ball. Cainhurst gloves are probably Kid leather. 

For the Victorians, a glove was a symbol of good breeding, and functioned both as a fashion accessory and a way to keep the hand clean and unmarred (as marred hands were considered a mark of… well, labour.) For the Church Doctors, the gloves also inoculate them against disease (Laurence please get that out of your mouth my god) and keep them from cutting their fingers on glass or rough materials. So you’ve got this intermingling of a social ideal (perfect smooth hands) and a functional one (not getting sick because you cut your finger) and then blend in questions of fashion and taste and, possibly, more functionality (colour, cut, decoration). On the note of decoration, Victorians had a lot of ways to make things look more expensive than they really were. Pearls made of paste, or paper-mache finished to look like gold, comes to mind. So it’s possible that people who want to have a rank in the Church but haven’t quite managed, are trying to dress up their gloves (or any part of their costume) to look more important than they are. So with that you might utilise subpar stitching, obvious or sloppy patch jobs, or decorations like fake pearl buttons. 

Also! Gloves are fitted! It’s easy to forget since we live in a world with one size fits all garments, but a glove would’ve been made for someone, usually — which means they aren’t interchangeable, and it’s obvious if someone is wearing poorly fitted or stolen gloves, because they don’t quite fit. This would also be an impediment to their work, as anyone who’s ever tried to do anything with badly fitting gloves on can attest.

Gloves might have started as something only worn by ranking members, or at least, the nice gloves (gauntlets aren’t cheap either, but they’re not specialised for delicate work the way I suspect the Choir gloves are), and trickled down to all but the poorest hunters later as they realised that the less skin a hunter exposed, the less likely they were to become afflicted. I’m very interested in the idea of Yharnam’s fashion trending towards covering up as the disease worsened, probably mirroring some real world trends in the process (for example, in North America, fashion silhouettes tended towards straight lines during the 1920’s at least in part because it was considered gauche to try to look curvy while the poor were starving to death). 

The Choir gloves aren’t actually tight in the game or the concept art, by the by. They’re loose, and fastened at the wrist with laces, making them adjustable. I haven’t seen laced gloves in a period reference, but it’s a very interesting detail; it would be more adjustable than buttons, though perhaps as likely to catch on things. It also echoes the lacing down the sleeves of the Choir robes, which is just nice from a design angle. 

Gloves came in more colours and styles than white and short/long. At one point, lavender day gloves were a thing for men to wear while visiting acquaintances. (The visiting is a whole other thing. If you don’t know about Victorian visiting, I highly recommend giving that a quick search. Calling cards for gentlemen were a thing, and some of them were really weird.)

A note that’s somewhat disconnected from the rest, but feels relevant: Victorians had a mourning period after the death of a family member, where all of a mourner’s clothing was expected to be dyed black, including gloves. (This was apparently achieved with a large vat of hot water, dye, and pushing the fabric around inside with a stick. I’m still fascinated by the concept.) And fashion in general was much slower in this period: people had mostly the same pieces of clothing from year to year, repairing them regularly and modifying them to keep up with current trends. Patch jobs would be another useful way of gauging a character’s status, since subtle or invisible mending is something that amateurs usually aren’t capable of managing. A well-maintained (or outright replaced) item speaks to the owner having some spending money. 

The Victorian period had a lot of really specific details that won’t necessarily make sense without historical grounding. I’ve felt like I’m trying to learn another language over the last two years from working on Bloodborne fic, to be totally honest with you, and it’s involved a lot of period literature, looking at fashion plates, listening to various videos on historical fashion… there’s a lot of resources if you know where to look, and I’ve barely scratched the surface. That being said, I’m less interested in the romanticism of the era and more of all the unpleasant things that their day to day culture thrived on (and was used to cover up). The gloves end up being a really nice way to talk about it: an expensive status symbol that protects the wearer from harm, and has probably come to have threatening connotations in the eyes of the populace. Can’t you just picture citizens shrinking back from the sight of black Church gloves?

All of this to say, minding a Hunter’s gloves is probably an excellent way of determining their general status. Compare a Choir member’s immaculate gloves to a wannabe cleric with amateur-sewn, slightly discoloured leather, and paste-pearl buttons trying to bluff their way through the Church, to a Workshop Hunter’s scabbed work gloves, to the ashy, oil-stained, reinforced gauntlets of a Charred Hunter. 

Hopefully there was something of use in there for you, anon. As a sign off: the Victorian period had veils as a fashion accessory for ladies, and those are totally applicable to Bloodborne as well. If you need clothing references, look up Harper’s Bazar fashion plates plus the year or decade you’re aiming for. This can be done for outfits or accessories. A lot of items in this period were homemade or modified; richer houses might buy all new accessories or clothes from the best shops, but middle-class houses were more likely to… well, buy one or two new items of middling quality and then modify them to look better, so far as I can find. Whether a glove was kept in good repair by house staff or the owner, or… not kept in repair at all, would tell you a lot. And paying attention to that sort of subtlety is at its heart how glove language functions anyway: looking for context cues to draw inferences before you choose to speak.

Going to close out again with, I am a hobby writer learning about this stuff on my own time. If you have something relevant to add, please feel free, but if you’re looking for definitely-historically-accurate information on the period, I would at most use this as a jump off point to search and verify things. I hope this was of some use, and happy writing!

[side-shawty]

Burn XVI (Stark!Reader)

XVI: Standing on the Sun

Fandom: Marvel (MCU)

Type: series

Prompt/Summary: True love comes in many forms.

Pairing(s): Peter Parker x Stark!reader, Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Three weeks later and things were better. You had gone back to New York with the team just in time for Peter’s graduation. Even though the whole team wanted to be there Peter decided that he didn’t need a spectacle and in the end, his girlfriend and mentor would be the only ones attending while the rest set up for a surprise party later.

Girlfriend. You couldn’t get over how nice that sounded. As you stood in front of the mirror in Peter’s favorite multicolored sundress you smiled.

It was off the shoulder hugged your body perfectly and ended just above your knee in a ruffled hem. You left your makeup light on account of the heat and pulled your hair back in a curly bun with a few curls framing your face and your edges expertly laid.

You absentmindedly brushed the scar on the back of your neck. It brought back all kinds of horrors that you had to push aside. That was something for therapy.

As you were spritzing perfume on yourself there was a knock at your door.

“Y/N you ready? Car’s running,” your dad called from the other side of the door.

“Yeah,” you replied and opened the door to face your father dressed neatly in a blue button-down, pants, sneakers, and his signature glasses, “Handsome,” you told him simply hooking your arm around his and beginning to walk down the hall towards the elevators.

“Beautiful,” he replied and you reached the entrance in no time, the doors open and waiting.

You got to Peter’s school in no time having left early enough to evade the worst of the traffic. The ceremony itself was swift, the graduating class was small but to your surprise, as you and your father were waiting with the other families outside for the graduates you felt a light tap on your shoulder.

Confused, you turned around only to be met with the beaming smile of your favorite Princess.

“Shuri?!” You asked incredulously.

“Y/N! I’ve missed you how are you?” She asked pulling you into a hug which you gratefully accepted.

“I’m good! What are you doing here?” You asked pulling back, still a little shocked.

“Well, it just so happens that someone I am seeing is graduating today as well,” she smiled and wiggled her eyebrows at you.

You tilted your head in question but before she could answer you heard her name being called. You both turned around at the sound to see MJ practically running towards her.

Shuri opened her arms and instead of a hug, MJ planted a sweet kiss on her lips.

You were shocked, you put your hands on your hips and glared playfully as they pulled away.

“So neither of you were planning to tell me about this?” You questioned and they just smiled at you, threading their hands together.

“Oh you would’ve figured it out at the party later,” Shuri giggled, leaning into MJ’s side. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your excited smile.

“I think it’s sweet, you guys are a great match,” Tony spoke up, smiling at the two young ladies

“Thanks, Stark,” Shuri said and MJ nodded in agreement, she’d never admit it but the man still made her nervous.

“Shuri, my mom wants us to take pictures before we leave,” MJ said and her girlfriend nodded.

“No problem, see you guys at the party later,” Shuri spoke.

“Bye guys,” MJ waved and they both walked away, giddy as ever.

You and your father both waved back.

“Wow they’re so cute together,” you told him and he hummed in agreement. “Speaking of cute, where is my boyfriend?”

“Gross Y/N,” he replied but began looking around regardless.

“Found him, Hap and May got to him first,” he said pointing to the trio.

The excitement you felt just from seeing the back of his head was almost too much, you practically sprinted and threw your arms around him. He jumped slightly at the contact as you pressed yourself against his back.

“Congratulations Peter!” He turned around in your arms and smiled down at you.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he beamed and cupped your face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Hey, don’t hog the graduate,” Your father complained and you rolled your eyes before releasing him.

Your father was quick to give Peter a hug as he walked up to him, “Congrats kid. Allow me to be the first—”

May cleared her throat.

“Second,” Tony tried again.

Happy silently shook his head in response.

“Fine third you a graduation present,” he finally finished.

With that, he fished a set of keys out from his pocket and handed them to Peter.

“Is this...” Peter began but was slightly stunned into silence.

“Yup, the Spyder with a few Stark modifications, enjoy it,” he smiled.

“Wow, thank you so much, Mr. Stark,” Peter gave your father another big hug which also knocked the man over.

“Wanna take it for a test drive?” You offered.

Peter nodded excitedly and you handed your own keys over to Tony before taking your boyfriend's hand.

“We’ll meet you guys at the tower!” You called over your shoulder as you waved goodbye to the group.

When you were both out of earshot May spoke absentmindedly to the two men.

“I can’t wait to plan their wedding,” she smiled.

Tony rubbed at his eyes.

——

When you got to the car Peter was quick to open the door for you and then toss his cap and gown in the trunk before slipping into the driver's seat.

“I think this might be too nice for me, Y/N” he spoke, taking in all the upgrades and sheer beauty of it.

“Please, you deserve this and so much more,” smiled taking his hand, prompting him to look in your eyes and smile back.

He took the hand that was on the steering wheel and expertly avoided your low bun to place his hand on the back of your neck to bring you in for a slow, loving kiss.

Once again you thought about how much you loved him, how perfect everything felt when you were together. It was like every single star is the sky aligned just to shine on the two of you.

Just before things get too heated you place your hand on his chest and push him back slightly, resting your forehead on his.

“As much as I’d love to christen your new car, we should get back to the tower. No reason to keep them waiting,” you smirked.

Peter gave a dramatic sigh and sat back in his seat, “Fine~ I guess this is what I get for having the girl everybody wants,” he said starting the car.

“But don’t forget she only has eyes for you,” you have the back of his hand a kiss as he pulled out of the lot.

“And I for her,” he smiled.

——

Once the two of you got back to the tower you had to try you best to force Peter to avoid looking for the others. Nat had texted you on the way that they weren’t quite done with everything and you were tasked with distracting him.

And distract him you did.

Under the guise of your feet hurting from hours spent in the low heels, you were wearing. Peter looked skeptical but followed you to your room to grab a pair of slides nonetheless. Only, he questioned you further when you had him walk in first and then you locked the door behind yourself.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” He asked, but still kicked off his own shoes before relaxing on the giant bean bag chair beside the bed.

You turned around slowly, keeping your hands behind your back as you leaned against the door kicking off your heels and staring at him. Gosh, everything about him is perfect, you thought. He tilted his head to the side and you walked to him slowly. When you reached arm's length he sat up slightly and held your hips and smiled up at you.

“What is it, babe?”

You carded one hand through his hair and leaned down to capture his lips in a short kiss. Your words were a whisper against his lips.

“You’re so pretty.” Without a second's hesitation, Peter was laughing at your omission. It took no effort for him to pull you down onto him, across his lap. You let out your own giggle at his antics.

“All these theatrics because you think I’m pretty?” The skepticism was back in his voice and it made you roll your eyes.

“Is it such a crime to think my boyfriend is pretty?” You pouted.

“No, as long as you don’t forget how gorgeous you are.” Peter looked you up and down .”Especially in this dress. Do you know how hard it was to hold back when I saw you wearing this in the bleachers?”

“I was hoping you’d like it,” you grinned.

“Like it? I absolutely love it.” As if to prove this point he left a trail of kisses from shoulder to shoulder before going up your neck and leaving several more in his wake. It wasn’t long before his lips found your own and you were sharing a passionate kiss.

Your arms locked around his neck, fingers slipping through his hair again and tugging slightly even so often. Meanwhile, Peter had one hand locked around your waist, keeping him firmly against him while the other trailed slowly up your back. You could feel him beginning to tug at your zipper when a knock interrupted. The two of you halted. Breathing heavily as whoever it was stood outside silently for a few seconds.

“Yeah?” You called, almost breathless.

“We’re about to eat if you guys wanna, y’know join us,” Natasha spoke and from her tone, you could tell you were in trouble.

You glanced at Peter and the two of you shared a silent laugh.

“We’ll be right there!”

——

After straightening yourselves out and slipping on spare slides and sneakers, respectfully you grabbed Peter’s hand and led him towards the elevator.

“We’re not eating here?” He asked.

“Oh, we are.” You replied and hit the button for the roof as you got it.

“Y/N what are we—“

You pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh, all will be revealed, my love.” Peter only rolled his eyes before licking your finger and you recoiled.

“Gross!” You exclaimed

“Oh really? Well just wait until—“ But his words were cut off once again as the elevator reached its destination.

A shout of “Surprise!” Rang out from everyone on the rooftop which had been decorated with the utmost care as a ‘Congratulations Peter’ banner hovered over the crowd in red and blue. Everyone was there, all the Avengers, MJ and Ned, Strange and even Shuri. The genuine look of surprise and joy on Peter’s face was enough to have you praying that DUM-E was actually recording like you told it to. If not, it was going to be the new jungle gym for an elementary school.

As Peter gave his greets and thanks to his guests you drifted over towards your mom who was holding a sleeping Morgan in her arms.

“You two look happy,” She smiled.

You couldn’t help the grin that took over your features. “We are, we really really are.”

Pepper took a sip of her drink. “I hope you’re using protection, Morgan and I are a little too young to be grandma and niece.” You sputtered at that, grateful that you didn't have a drink in your hand.

“Mom please.”

“I’m just saying. Maybe next time,” she gestured to her own neck, “cover-up.” She winked.

You gasped and coved your neck quick as lightning, “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Here’s your chance.” She winked before walking off under the guise of wanting to put your sister down.

You felt Peter before you saw him, an arm wrapped around your waist and his lips kissed your temple. You wanted to be annoyed but you leaned in on instinct instead.

“I’m gonna kill you, Parker,” you spoke but your threat was weak.

“Whoa, and here I was about to thank you for this wonderful surprise,” he pouted, moving in front of you and placing both hands on your waist. The two of you were near the edge of the roof while the others were towards the center giving you a feeling of pseudo privacy.

“Well you’re welcome but our entrance would have been much better if it wasn’t for this.” You pointed accusingly at your neck and he squinted. You swatted at his chest at his antics.

“Ah, what? It’s really not that bad,” He leaned in close to whisper in your ear, “I could have done a lot more damage.”

You shivered even though at sunset it was still almost eighty degrees, Peter wasn’t playing fair and he knew it.

You whispered back. “Well, maybe next time you do it so I can enjoy I.” To accentuate your point you left a kiss just below his ear, heating your body up just enough to get a reaction out of him.

Peter groaned and his grip on your waist tightened as he placed his forehead against yours and smiled.

“I will. But seriously, thank you for all of this. I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend,” his voice was still quiet, like it was a secret just between the two of you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Have I told you how much I love hearing you call me that?”

“Well how about I change that?”

You were confused as Peter removed one hand to fish around in his pocket. He took a hand step back from you and you let your arms fall back to your sides. He finally pulled out a blue velvet box and slowly opened the lid. You were met with a beautiful platinum ring with a gemstone — your birthstone — nestled beside Peter’s birthstone, peridot. You could feel the tears welling in your eyes.

“Peter is this…?”

“It’s not a formal engagement but it is most certainly a promise. We’ve been through a lot these last few years and I realized that the reason I got through any of it was you by my side. And when we’re ready I want to make this an engagement ring.” He explained and there was so much emotion in his eyes you wondered if he would cry too. “So what do you say?” “I love it, god, I love you,” You spoke and that was enough for him to push the box back in his pocket and place the ring on your finger. It was a perfect fit and you couldn’t help but stare at it for a few moments before you looked back at the love of your life.

“I love you too, Y/N. More than you know.” And with that, he pulled you into a loving kiss that probably would have gone on for too long if it wasn’t for the cheers and shouts behind you.

You turned around and hugged Peter around the middle, the two of you laughed at your friends and family together and you couldn't help be bask in this feeling of love and peace.

With Peter by your side, you knew anything was possible.

THE END.

-----

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE!!! Whether you stuck around or not I am genuinely grateful and I hope you all enjoyed it!!

Much Love - Duckie

[queenofspades20]

Birthday Boy

Happy birthday to my favorite fictional boyfriend. Just some fluff in honor of Bucky’s birthday.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: this is just fluff, maybe a few curse words. Enjoy!!

_____________________________________________________

Bucky and Y/n were sitting on the couch watching Hot Tub Time Machine.

“I’m telling you, Buck. The douchey ski patrol guy looks just like you!” Y/n insisted. Every time the actor popped up on the screen, Bucky just shook his head.

“I don’t see it, Doll.”

“Then you need glasses, old man!”

“Old man?” Bucky’s head snapped in Y/n’s direction. He had an incredulous look on his face. “You weren’t calling me old man last night.”

“Not my fault you’re going blind, Babe. Sebastian Stan is clearly your doppelganger. Your younger doppelganger,” Y/n said with a smirk, putting emphasis on younger. She knew she was picking a battle with Bucky but she wanted to see how far he would let her go before putting an end to it.

Bucky knew what she was up to. He loved seeing her smile, even if it was at his expense, but he was only going to let her go so far.

“I see how it is.” He leaned over and pushed her to lay down, climbing on top of her. Bucky grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head with his metal hand, his flesh hand moving down her sides, tickling her.

“Bucky, NO!” Y/n yelled out. “I was just teasing. With your birthday tomorrow, I gotta get my shots in while I can! You know I can’t help myself.” She squirmed her body, trying to move away.

Bucky shifted so his legs were on either side of Y/n’s, effectively trapping her. He started tickling her sides.

“NO! BUCKY!!” Y/n tried to pull her body away, but he was too heavy on top of her.

“I’ll show you old man.” While tickling her, he started kissing her face and neck. They were laughing, Y/n trying to desperately get away from Bucky’s hand, when Bucky felt cold water hitting his back.

“HEY!” Bucky yelled, turning around. He saw Sam and Steve standing there, laughing.

“I had to cool you off,” Sam said. He held up an empty glass and shook it. “No sex on the couch.”

Bucky let go of Y/n and got up to run after Sam. “Get over here, Birdbrain.”

Sam took off running to his room with Bucky close behind him.

Y/n looked at Steve. “He was tickling me because I called him old man. But he refuses to acknowledge he looks like the actor in Hot Tub Time Machine!”

The movie was at a scene with Blaine, the character Y/n was referring to. She pointed to the screen and Steve looked.

“I don’t see it.” Steve shrugged and walked off.

“Argh! Thor save me from old men who need glasses!”

 The next morning, Y/n got up before Bucky to cook him breakfast. She had a day planned of doing activities Bucky loved. She made pancakes, bacon, and eggs with some coffee and loaded up a tray with the food. She made her way back to their shared room. Bucky was not in bed, but she could hear him in the bathroom.

“Doll?” Bucky called out.

“I have breakfast. I was hoping you’d still be in bed, or did I not tire you out?” Y/n cheekily answered.

Bucky stuck his head through the doorway. “I thought I had tired you out.”

Y/n just rolled her eyes. “Get out here, birthday boy, so I can give you your first present.”

Bucky quickly made his way over to the bed. “Breakfast with you is a good present.”

He settled onto the bed and Y/n placed the tray over his lap. “A hearty breakfast to get through the morning, because we’re going on a little trip.”

Bucky looked intrigued. “Are you going to tell me where?”

“Nope. I did think we could take your bike, since it’s a gorgeous day out.”

“You know how to drive a motorcycle? And who said I would be okay with you driving my bike?”

“One, rude. Two, I got lessons from Steve. I can get us to where we are going no problem. I even did a test drive with Steve a few days ago.”

Bucky looked impressed. “I still don’t know.”

Y/n looked at Bucky with a pout. “Please, Baby? I promise I know what I’m doing and I really want this to be a surprise.”

Bucky hesitated. He had a hard time saying no to her but he also loved his bike. “Fine, but if you seem hesitant at all, we pull over and switch.”

“Deal!” Y/n smiled widely. “Now dig in, Baby.”

They ate their breakfast and then got dressed for the day. As they made their way to the garage, Y/n held up a blindfold.

“You’re not wearing that while driving,” Bucky joked.

Y/n gave him an unimpressed look. “You’re wearing it first. I want this to be a surprise. I’ll wear it later if you’re a good boy, though. Let you do whatever you want.”

Bucky felt his pants get tighter. “Careful, Doll. Keep talking like that and we won’t make it out of the compound. But I’m going to hold you to that later,” he said as he took the blindfold.

They settled on the motorcycle and Bucky put the blindfold on. “Can you see anything, Bucky?”

“Nope.”

“Okay then. Hold on.” Y/n started the motorcycle and Bucky wrapped his arms around her waist.

They took off. It was a weird feeling for Bucky to not know where they were going, but he trusted Y/n. After a while, Bucky felt the bike slow down. He could hear crowds and screams of joy in the background. After the bike was stopped, Y/n looked over her shoulder.

“You can take off the blindfold now.”

Bucky slipped of the blindfold and smiled when he saw they were at Coney Island.

“Good surprise?” Y/n asked and bit her lip.

“Best surprise.” Bucky hugged her close.

“Good. I wanted you to have fun and not worry about the world and this seemed to fit what I wanted.”

“It’s perfect.” Bucky got off the bike and helped Y/n off.

They spent their morning at Coney Island, riding everything they could and playing several games. Y/n made sure to win a stuffed bear for Bucky. Bucky really enjoyed the Cyclone and regaling Y/n with the story of how he made Steve ride it back in the day. They had lunch and then decided to finish their visit with the Wonder Wheel. At the top of the ride, they shared a kiss.

“Good birthday so far?”

“Best I think I’ve ever had.” Bucky looked at Y/n like she hung the moon.

“Ready to head back to the compound? The team has a small party planned for you.”

Bucky had a hesitant look on his face.

Y/n rushed to assure him. “Nothing like Tony’s usual parties. It’s just the team and significant others. We want to celebrate you turning 104.”

Bucky looked relieved. “That’s fine. As long as you promise to not leave my side all night.”

“Like I would leave you anyways.”

Bucky and Y/n made their way back to the bike. Bucky immediately got on and looked at Y/n. “I’m driving back. You did a good job but I wanna drive.”

Y/n laughed and climbed behind Bucky, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I figured you’d want to drive back. I only cared about surprising you here. And maybe after the party.”

Bucky reached down and squeezed her hands. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Bucky.”

They made their way back to the compound and got ready for the party. Y/n put on a deep red knee-length dress that fit her body in a way that showcased all her favorite assets. She kept her hair and makeup simple, since the party wasn’t going to be crazy. She made her way out of the bathroom and saw Bucky buttoning up his shirt. He looked up as she walked in to grab her shoes. As she passed him, he grabbed at her hand and pulled her close.

“You look delectable,” Bucky murmured. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. His arms slid around her waist, his hands moving down until they cupped her ass. Y/n smiled at Bucky and put her arms around his neck.

“Glad you like. I bought the dress just for tonight.”

“So, another present for me? I don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands off you.”

“Well, that is a perk of it being your party. We go for a while and then leave early and you can unwrap me and put that blindfold to use.”

Bucky groaned. “Can’t we just skip the party?”

Y/n threw her head back and laughed. “No. You know they’ll just barge in here. If we make an appearance, then we won’t be interrupted later.”

“Fine.” Bucky grumbled. He pouted as they left their room and made their way to the common area where the party was set up. Bucky was hoping if he pouted enough, Y/n would let him leave extra early.

“Your pouting isn’t going to work, Baby.” Y/n said over her shoulder, smiling.

Bucky gave up the pout and smiled back. “Worth a shot.”

When they entered the room, it was filled with the team and their partners. Steve had brought Sharon, who was happy to have made it in time, having been on a mission for the past few weeks. Clint and Natasha stood together, Clint’s arm around Natasha’s shoulder. Wanda and Vision were holding hands. Bruce had excitedly brought Betty Ross, who had recently come back into his life. Sam and Peter stood with their girlfriends and Tony and Pepper were happily hugging.

“Happy birthday, Bucky!” everyone yelled as Bucky and Y/n entered the room. Bucky felt so happy to be surround by his friends. Tony and Steve had hung up a banner that said “happy 104th birthday” and there were streamers all around the room. On the coffee table was a cake with a pile of presents for Bucky. Tony had set up a bar to the side, fully stocked with a bartender there to make everyone’s night easier. Though Thor couldn’t stay, he had dropped off some Asgardian mead for the super soldiers earlier that week. There was also a buffet table with various foods that Bucky loved, both from back in the 40s and from now.

The party had been going for a few hours and everyone was having a good time. Bucky and Steve had gotten into the mead and were feeling its effects. Bucky had opened his presents, loving everything he got, especially his new knife from Y/n.

“Doll, you already did breakfast and Coney Island. This is too much,” Bucky said as he admired the tactical knife. It had a black and blue carved handle with a steel blade that had a blue sheen.

“I saw it and thought of you,” Y/n said with a shrug. “The blade reminds me of your eye color.”

Bucky leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I can’t wait to use it on my next mission.”

“Only you would be that excited for a knife,” Sam said with a laugh.

“Shut it, Pigeon.”

Sam just rolled his eyes with a smile. After presents were done and the cake was eaten, Bucky decided he was ready to finish his night in the bedroom with Y/n, wanting to make use of the blindfold. He looked over at Y/n and caught her eye. Bucky gave her a smirk that signaled he was ready to go.

“Well, thank you everyone for a truly great birthday. I can’t thank you enough for everything.”

“You deserve it, Punk,” Steve said, Sharon cuddled into his side.

“Definitely my best birthday yet.” Bucky pulled Y/n close and kissed her temple.

Y/n smiled, ready to start trouble. “I think that’s my cue to get this old man to bed.”

Everyone laughed while Bucky looked down at her in faux shock. “Old man??”

Y/n laughed as she stood up. “I mean, you are 104. I’m surprised you lasted this long.” She slowly made her way over towards the door. “Do we need to get you a cane or maybe a walker?”

Bucky jumped up and moved quickly towards Y/n. She let out a yell and ran towards their room. “I’ll show you old man, Doll,” Bucky yelled out as he chased her.

Everyone heard Y/n yell, “bring it on, senior citizen!”

Sam looked at Tony. “Thank you for soundproofing their room.”

“That was a present for all of us.”

[authoressofdarkness]

Beauty and the Beast (Chapter 4)

“Staring is rude, you know.” The words leave his mouth before he can really think to stop them. Stark’s eyes snap up to his, and a bemused smile curves up his lips. “I’ll remind you of that when I take you to bed tonight,” he tells him coolly. “But I’ve got no problem with touching you instead, if you’d prefer.”

Very dubious consent teasing and experimentation in this chapter, as typical with this story. Mind the warnings! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

Being with Dr. Banner isn’t bad.

Yes, he is technically experimenting on him. Yes, his loyalties and intentions are… highly questionable. But aside from that, he’s the same man he was the few other times Peter ran into him. Kind, funny, and a little awkward, it’s true, but despite that, Peter almost enjoys their time.

At least Banner is open enough about what he’s doing. It’s not that bad, and any time he isn’t with Stark is a welcome reprieve. He’s sure soon enough he’ll be savoring these moments, even if they’re not actually that much better than being with him.

It doesn’t feel like that long, despite everything they do. Peter listens to what Banner orders him to do, if only because he has no reason to fight most of it. It’s awkward, sometimes, but he holds nothing back. He’s honestly curious about the extent of his powers too.

He has half a mind to hold back, not wanting Stark to know the full extent of his powers, even if he’s always wanted to know himself. But he knows that Stark can force him to reveal them if he refuses, and he has no doubts of exactly what will happen and to whom if he so much as tries.

He only has a limited amount of control over what happens to his family. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t use it to spare them to the best extent he can.

This is also part of the reason why he doesn’t ask Banner a lot of questions despite his itching curiosity. If it seems like he’s fishing for information Stark doesn’t want him to have… well, the results probably won’t be pretty if he finds out. And right now he has no way to know if Stark is actually watching them or not — he’s not stupid enough to believe he can’t , just knows that he might not actually be — so he doesn’t. He can ask questions when they’re face to face, so at least he can get a read on when he’s pushing too far.

It’s a few hours later when Banner finally calls it. He’d spent the last hour doing vigorous exercises, and though he’s dripping with sweat, his stamina isn’t even close to running out. That’s not to say it isn’t tiring, but he could keep going.

“I think that’s enough,” Banner says, drawing Peter to a stop from the pushups he’d been doing. “It’s obvious you’re not going to tire anytime soon. We’ll need days to test the full extent of this.”

“Days?” Peter repeats. He’s never went for days at a time before, but in the right setting, it could be possible. He’s not sure that’s something to look forward to, though.

“Accounting for different variations and such and the actual amount of time you go every time, yes. We’ll have to have several sessions. I’ll talk to Tony and see what he’s interested in pursuing.” Banner doesn’t look up front where he’s scribbling notes at a desk a few feet away. “You can go. I’m sure he’s back by now.”

Peter gets to his feet slowly, stretching out his sore muscles and groaning a little. He has half a mind to ask if he should be tied up again, but if Stark wants him bound, he won’t hesitate to tie him up again. He probably knew exactly what Banner was planning to do, so he won’t be surprised he’s not.

Slowly, he makes his way out of the lab, but stops in the hallway. He has no idea where he’s supposed to go, nor where he is allowed to go. As much as he’d like to explore, get the layout of the area, the last thing he needs is Stark to find him somewhere he’s not supposed to be and accuse him of trying to escape or worse.

“Master requests your presence in the kitchen, Mr. Parker.”

The disembodied voice makes him jump. Perhaps he should have been expecting it — he knows Stark has an AI in his suit; why would the house be any different?

Oh well. It startled him, but at least it solves his problem.

He heads down the hallway towards the open area where he’s fairly sure the kitchen is. It takes a minute to find it, but when he does, he sees Stark sitting at the island, sipping a cup of coffee and tapping away on a tablet.

He stops dead in his tracks at the sight. It’s just so… weird . He’s only ever seen him in his Iron Man suit, when they were fighting, or in a regular suit, if he were spying on him around town or at public gatherings. But right now he’s in neither of those things; he’s dressed in a simple jeans and band tee shirt, sitting casually in the kitchen, looking altogether… normal.

Stark looks up when he enters, and for a brief moment when their eyes first meet, he’s sure they’re brown. But then he blinks and steps closer, hoping for a better look, and they’re blue again.

He rubs his eyes, blinking a few times. Could he really be losing his mind already? It’s only been half a day. Christ.

When he refocuses, Stark is looking him over appraisingly, and he flushes under the intensity of the look, wishing he’d put his clothes back on before leaving the lab. Banner had made him strip for a physical examination before much else, and he was still only in his boxers now, since his jeans and sweater from yesterday weren’t exactly conducive to exercise.

“Staring is rude, you know.” The words leave his mouth before he can really think to stop them.

Stark’s eyes snap up to his, and a bemused smile curves up his lips. “I’ll remind you of that when I take you to bed tonight,” he tells him coolly. “But I’ve got no problem with touching you instead, if you’d prefer.”

The words make his stomach clench again, the hot and heavy feeling returning. It should be dread, but it isn’t. Honestly, he’s not surprised by the intention, although he is by the flat-out admission on the other hand. And even more surprisingly, he’s not really scared.

He should be, he knows. But in all honesty, he just can’t make himself be, for a lot of reasons. Stark is going to do what he wants to do, and Peter knew that when he’d handed himself in, even if he admittedly hadn’t thought much about it in the heat of the moment. It was already something that had been on his mind for years, what Stark would do to him if he ever captured him, and he’d known the reputation the elder man had even before he was Iron Man. It wasn’t a big leap to make, and he was smart enough to know that fighting it wouldn’t do any good.

But Peter was also an enhanced individual. He’d had sex a few times — not many, but enough to have tried it with both genders and a few different ways — and it was enough for him to know that while he didn’t need much to get off thanks to his enhanced senses, he had very specific cravings. Ones that normal people couldn’t or didn’t want to participate in. He liked it rough — and rough, for him, was a hard point to reach. Normal people couldn’t even succeed in leaving marks on his skin, let alone making him sore. And there is also the flip side to it — normal people are just so fragile . He had to be so careful with his previous partners that honestly if it hadn’t been for his enhanced senses, he probably wouldn’t have got off with any of them.

He doesn’t expect any of that from Stark. Gentle didn’t seem to be his MO, especially if earlier was anything to go by. And while Peter may have hated the man, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy the sex. Nor could he probably pretend that he didn’t. He didn’t have that much self control.

It also doesn’t mean he has to give in easily.

“If you could catch me, maybe,” he says, walking to the other side of the island and leaning against it.

Stark shrugs. “There’s nowhere for you to run to. You could try, but it would be a bad idea.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Let me guess. You’ll hurt Ben if I try?”

Stark chuckles dryly, shaking his head. “I’d be more worried about what I would do to your tight little ass when I catch you.”

The words make his stomach clench again, and he swallows audibly. Stark’s grin only grows at the sight. “Come here.”

The order makes him freeze. Fuck . Does he put his money where his mouth is, or does he obey?

It’s not a decision that takes much thought. Slowly, Peter straightens from where he’s leaning on the counter. Stark is smirking at him, predatorily, and he knows whatever decision he makes is going to end with him getting absolutely wrecked either way.

He moves to stand in front of Stark, swallowing down his nerves. Maybe not today. Running would be an action that would ensure he wouldn’t be walking for at least the next day, probably, and he’d prefer not to have Stark to punish him already, the first time. Rough was one thing. Being used and possibly beaten to a bloody pulp was another entirely, and he has a feeling if he pisses him off, he won’t be shown much mercy.

Stark raises an eyebrow, running a hand flat down the front of his bare chest. The touch is light but firm, and the feeling of the callouses on the elder man’s hands make him shiver as much as the tension behind the motion. “I thought you might actually run,” he admits, tilting his head. “Too scared to test the waters? Or too eager for me?” The hand doesn’t stop at the top of his boxers, moving right down the middle and gripping him through them. “Did earlier make you a horny little spider?”

Peter hisses out a breath at the feeling of the villain’s hand wrapping firmly around his length, even through his boxers. “Maybe,” he responds, watching the elder man’s face at the response.

Stark just hums, giving him a firm tug closer and letting his other hand curve around Peter’s hip, traveling up his spine. Peter almost groans. He holds it back, but the smirk that curves up Stark’s lips tells him he didn’t miss it.

“Good. I will make you hard and horny frequently. You don’t have any control over that, I’m sure, nor the way you’ll be conditioned after a few weeks. But here’s what you need to know.” He leans closer, so they’re almost nose to nose. “You are mine, Parker. Every inch, every thought, every bit of pleasure or pain… it’s mine. You are a pet and a hostage. You get nothing I don’t allow you to — be it time, food, water, clothes, sleep, orgasms, I don’t care.” The hand on his back moves to grip the base of his neck, pulling his head down. “You’re not going to like that and I know that you’ll fight it occasionally. You’ll be punished for it, and probably often, until you learn the rules. But I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

Then he gives him a firm push back and turns back to his tablet. Peter stands there for a whole moment, staring dumbly at him, before Stark casually says, “Boxers off. Now ,” and he snaps out of it and scrambles to comply, a mix of fear and excitement lending the urgency to his movements.

Stark’s words were everything he expected and feared. Still, his trembling is a mixture of both emotions.

He lets the boxers fall and waits. Stark has returned his attention to his tablet, tapping away and ignoring him for a solid few minutes. Then, without looking up, he says, “You’re going to walk around the floor like that the rest of the day, if not the week. I want it in your head exactly how open access you are to me.” He pauses, glancing up at him for the first time and looking him over. “Kneel beside me. Jerk yourself off, but don’t come.”

The kneeling thing again. A kink, or just because Stark liked to humiliate him, test how well he’ll actually listen?

It doesn’t much matter. He doesn’t have a whole lot of choice, and he’s already as exposed in just about every way as he can be. He gets on his knees beside Stark’s chair, biting his lip as he starts to slowly stroke himself.

He’s hard already, more so than he’s probably ever been, and he probably shouldn’t be surprised but he kind of is anyway. This is definitely humiliating, and not on a small scale. Stark isn’t even looking at him, for God’s sake. The point really must be to test his obedience, since he doesn’t seem to be very entertained.

Being unentertaining seems like a good way to end up suffering a punishment worse than death, so he decides to change that. Peter starts jerking himself off, quickly, and in short strokes, releasing his lip to unstifle the groan rising in his throat. He’s used to trying to muffle his cries, for a lot of reasons, but he has a feeling Stark won’t appreciate that.

This goes on for several minutes in much the same way. Stark is still on his tablet, humming appreciatively every now and then at Peter’s ever growing moans but still not turning his attention away from him work. Finally, several minutes of jerking at his own cock later, Tony lays the tablet down and locks it, turning to face him.

Peter hears him turn, feels the shift in attention as those piercing eyes run over him. A hand runs through his hair, the touch surprisingly light until it reaches the nape of his neck, fisting the curls there and jerking his head back, eliciting a strangled gasp from the younger man.

Stark chuckles coldly, drinking in Peter’s face. He just watches until Peter is panting, motions growing rapid as he gets close, before reaching down and wrapping a hand firmly around the base of his cock. “Stop.”

The word is soft, but it’s not a suggestion. Peter lets his hands drop immediately, still breathing raggedly as he looks up at the villain in front of him.

“Good boy.” Stark lets go of his hair, moving the hand around to the front to brush his thumb down Peter’s jaw, then trace the outline of his limbs. “God, I can’t wait to choke you on my cock. We’ll see how smart that mouth of yours is when it’s full. You don’t even get to breathe without my permission now.” The words are soft, deceptively gentle, but obviously dangerous. Promises, not threats, Peter’s mind supplies helpfully. He cups Peter’s chin, tilting his head back further and forcing him to bare his throat again. “Got something smart to say to that , sweetheart?”

“Is it even big enough to choke on?” The words, again, fly out of his mouth before he can think better of them.

He blanches almost instantly. Stark’s eyebrows shoot up, and his lips twist up into a feral grin. “Oh, you silly boy. Are you trying to tempt me? Is that what this is? Because you might want to think again. I can and will wreck you. Mind, body, and everything you think you stood for. I thought I might even keep you as a pet, give you a certain level of freedom, but… it looks like making you a mindless beast is the only way you can be tamed.”

Peter stares at him, eyes widening a little more with seemingly every word. He opens his mouth to speak and finds Stark’s fingers immediately pressed into it, shushing him and curling around to hold his jaw closed. “The only reason I’m not going to choke you on it now,” Stark continues, as normally as if he were discussing the weather, “Is because when I do, sweetheart, I’m going to make it so you can’t talk when I’m done with you. And tonight, I want you to scream when I split you open and fuck you senseless. So perhaps I’ll fuck your raw throat in the morning. But for right now… I think I have another appointment to get to. And you, pretty boy, are going to stay right here and cook something for dinner while I’m gone. If there’s any kind of trouble, Jarvis is going to alert me, and not being able to walk or talk tomorrow will be the least of your worries. Do you understand?”

Unable to give a verbal answer with his mouth held closed by Stark’s curled fingers, he just nods.

Stark smirks, his eyes seeming to glow for a moment before he lets him go. He stands, wiping his hand on his pants. “Excellent. I’ll be back in an hour. I’d choose what you make wisely.”

Then he leaves without another word, leaving a dazed and horny Peter still on his knees on the kitchen floor.

[adminbryantsaki]

Tick Tock

(Hello there, I’m back with the Bnharem’s collab. This month is a Soulmate’s AU. I picked Aizawa. And decided to throw Hizashi at him then throw them into a closet to see what the results are. I hope you enjoy what I put together for you all. I don’t own Shouta Aizawa/ Eraserhead or Hizashi Yamada/ Present Mic. Horikoshi Kohei does. Here is where you can read all the other stories and art done for this collab. And here is my own master list. The banner was made by @nocturnalazura. If this isn’t your cup of tea, blend of spices, or brew of coffee, move on.)

Tw: ABO, mentioning of a heat/rut cycle, mentioning of male pregnancy, slightly abusive household.

Wc: 3,683

Aizawa stared at the timer on his forearm. It read about a week left before he would meet his soulmate. He had the entrance exam to U.A in a week. Would he meet his soulmate then? He didn’t know and at the moment he didn’t really care. He heard his dad call him to come down for breakfast before he sent him off to go training. He didn’t want to go training. He wanted to lay in bed and not have anything to do and not have to go anywhere.

“Shouta! Time for breakfast!” His dad called from the base of the stairs. He groaned and slid out of his bed and stumbled into the bathroom to get changed and help his brain wake up a bit before he had to face his father. He looked at the little bright green and red moon on the underside of his left wrist. He was glad that it was still there. He noticed some music notes appear on his arm like on a music sheet. He was a little confused by it but waved it off as something his soulmate doing. He finished getting dressed and pulled on a hoodie to hide the writing on his arm. He walked downstairs where his family was sitting having breakfast.

“Good morning, Shouta. Did you sleep well?” His mom asked as he sat down at the table. “I slept fine.” He spoke as he served himself some eggs and miso soup. He ate in silence before his father lowered his newspaper and addressed him. “Son, did you see that other boy in your dreams again?” He asked with a hint of venom in his voice that his son’s soulmate was another male. Shouta remained silent and looked at the moon tattoo on the inside of his wrist.

“Well? Did you or not? Answer when you’re spoken to, Shouta.” His father said harshly.

“Yes, I saw him again. I see him every night, dad. You need to get used to the fact that my soulmate is another guy!” Shouta retorted.

“Finish your food and get to training. You have to be ready for your entrance exam into U.A.” His father spoke. Shouta remained silent and ate his breakfast. He finished quickly and put his dishes into the sink before he went downstairs and began to warm up. He focused on the days counting down to when he would meet his soulmate and he could get to be free from his family.

§§§§§

Across town, Hizashi was walking down the street to a café that he liked to spend his time after school. He would mostly do his studying there or write out a script for a potential talk show he wanted to have one day. He also likes to draw so he would take his sketchbook and doodle as he thought of ideas for the talk show. He was waiting for his drink since the café’s policy was that you needed to buy something off of their menu to be able to hang out there. Hizashi didn’t have the best relationship with his parents and he seemed like a quiet kid. This was all because of his quirk. His quirk was connected to his voice, and he had a hard time controlling it. He came out of the womb with his quirk in effect. His parents were wary of him growing up and being frustrated or angry. That’s when his voice would get out of control and people within range of him would get injured. He hated hurting people that he cared about so unless he was in his room or their basement that his parents had soundproofed, he remained quiet and hardly spoke in case his quirk activated. He doodled music notes on his arm, not knowing that his soulmate was seeing them. A waitress came over with his drink and he silently thanked them and covered the mark on his neck as he received his drink. The mark that he covered was the Greek letter Alpha. He didn’t want anyone to think that he or his soulmate was an Alpha. He took a sip of his drink and pulled his sketchbook out along with his pencil. He closed his eyes and began to draw.

§§§§§

After Shouta warmed up, he decided to go on a run. This helped him think and clear his mind after his dad upset him.

When his tattoo appeared on his wrist when he was about 10, he was confused and showed his parents. They told him that the moon meant his partner would be a Luna. He was lucky that his soulmate was a Luna as they were rare in the world. His father was just as confused as he was and asked what a Luna was as he had never heard of one. His father took him to a doctor to have it explained. The doctor explained that a Luna was like an Alpha but they were able to conceive and have a litter like some Betas and Omegas did. His dad let out a sigh of relief that day that his son would be able to produce an heir. What if he didn’t want kids? What would happen then? Shouta tried to shake the thoughts out of his mind as he ran around the block again before he went inside. He grabbed his wallet and left the house saying that he would be back by dinner. He walked to his favorite park where several cats he knew hung out there. He went to the swing set and sat lazily on one of the swings before an orange tabby cat came up to him and brushed up against his leg. He reached down and petted its head and smiled. “You’re lucky to be free and not be tied down by a stupid quirk and a greedy father.” He spoke. The cat meowed and sat down. He slid down from the swing and scratched the cat’s head which he got meows of approval. He stayed there with the cat for a little while before he got hungry. He went to the sandwich shop down the road that he had gone to before, unaware of the cat now following him. He entered the shop and noticed the cat trying to sneak in. He knelt down and addressed the cat. “You have to wait out here, baby. I’ll bring something out for you.” He told the cat. They stayed and he went inside. He came back out a few minutes later with a fish sandwich that he shared with the cat. He then walked around town just to kill time before it grew dark. That’s when he began to head home. He walked through the front door and went up to his room just before his mom called him down to wash up. He washed his hands then helped set the table and helped his mom bring food to the table before he sat down. His dad was either down in the den or at work. He hardly was around, and when he was, he would say something rude to either him or his mom. He thanked his mom for working so hard and served himself some of the food. He ate in silence before his mom spoke to him. “How was your day out, Shouta?” She asked as they ate. “It was good. I met a new cat in the park. They followed me to the sandwich shop and I fed them part of tuna sandwich before I just walked around town.” He said in a neutral tone before he took a drink of tea.

“That sounds like an eventful day.” She responded. Shouta nodded and finished his food. He put his plate in the sink before he went up to his room. He grabbed a washable marker and wrote something on his arm to his soulmate. “Hey. How was your day today?” He wrote. On Hizashi’s end, the words appeared on his forearm and he frantically looked around his general area to find some kind of pen or marker to respond. He found a marker and wrote back. “It was fine. Spent some time at a Café drawing. How was yours?” He responded. “My dad still doesn’t like that you’re a guy and that we see each other in our dreams every night.” “Don’t listen to him. We can be happy together when we meet. How long does your timer say?”

Aizawa pushed his sleeve up to see the timer now saying six days. “Six days and change. So, we meet sometime in the next week. I have the entrance exam to U.A. what about you?”

“I’m applying to go there too! I hope we both get in.”

“Me too. I’m going to try and get some sleep. I’ll see you in my dreams.”

“Ok. Sleep well, Shouta. I’ll be there soon.”

He smiled and got changed for bed. He then slid under his covers and closed his eyes. He went to the dreamscape where he typically saw Hizashi. He went about laying in a field of flowers where he would stay until Hizashi joined him. He looked up at the sky and saw that it was filled was with stars. He gazed at them for what felt like hours until he felt someone slide next to him. He looked over and saw Hizashi laying next to him. He smiled softly and held his hand.

“I missed you,” Aizawa spoke quietly. “I missed you too,” Hizashi responded. “Can we just lay here quietly?” He asked. The blonde nodded and he propped himself up on his elbow and ran his fingers through Aizawa’s hair. Shouta hummed and leaned into his touch. Hizashi rubbed circles on the base of his soulmate’s skull which earned him a satisfied groan. He stopped and pulled away as he was afraid that he had hurt him even in their dream realm. Shouta looked up at him confused. “Why’d you stop?” He asked. “I thought I hurt you.” “You didn’t, it felt good. Keep going, please.” Shouta told him. Hizashi sat up and crossed his legs in a sitting position. Shouta shifted so his head rested in his partner’s lap. Hizashi massaged his head until he dozed off and woke back up thanks to his alarm going off. He groaned and held his head. Waking up from the dreamscape like that usually left him in a bad mood and he had a headache. He looked at his phone and saw that it was Saturday. He could sleep in today. He slid back under the covers and went back to the dreamscape. He was lucky to find Hizashi still there looking a little bummed out. “Sorry about that, my alarm went off. I can sleep in today. That means we have more time together.” Shouta said with a soft smile. His partner grinned and hugged him. They laid out on the grass and relaxed. “When we meet in real life, can you do the head massaging thing on me?”

“Of course. I can’t wait to meet you.” He told him and ran his fingers through his soulmate’s hair. He hummed and eventually laid down next to him and held his hand.

“Goodnight, Shouta. I hope you have a good day.” He said before he closed his eyes. Shouta closed his eyes too and woke up to his alarm waking him up. He opened his eyes and pulled his blanket a little tighter before he got out of bed and packed a couple things before, he sneaked out his window and went down the street. He sat down on a bench while he waited for a bus. He pushed his sleeve up and grabbed a marker before he wrote something out on his arm. “I don’t think I can wait six days. I want to meet you now.”

“Aren’t we supposed to wait? What’s going on? Why do you want to rush your timer? Is it something with your dad again?”

“I’m tired of the routine. I want to meet you and spend time with you. It’s getting too hard to not be able to touch you and hold you close.” He wrote back and held his head in his hands. “I’d come to meet you but I have my last music class today. I’m sorry Shouta.” He wrote back. Shouta looked up as the bus pulled up. He got on and paid his fare. He didn’t care where he was going. He just wanted to be away from his parents and his house. He sat in the back of the bus and leaned back. He watched as a few more people boarded the bus and the bus began to drive off. He looked out the window and watched the buildings and landmarks go by. He rode on the bus for a couple of hours before he got off at the mall and spent the rest of the day there. He did catch the bus home knowing he would be scolded for leaving the house without a word. He snuck back into the house only to find his father sitting at the table.

“Shouta. Where have you been today?” He heard his father ask. “Out. I needed to get away from here.” He responded. “You could’ve at least checked in and told us you were alright. You had both me and your mother worried sick.” “I can understand why mom would be worried. But why you? Was it because I didn’t come down and have you give me some kind of training schedule that would take up my whole day? I just want to be a normal kid.” He spoke. “You aren’t normal, Shouta. You have a wonderful gift. Your mother and I want the best for you.” His father said. “Did you ever think that I want this? That I want to have to wear an eyepatch for weeks on end until I can control my quirk out of one eye? I’m tired of it! I want to have breaks! I want to be able to go out and have fun either on my own or be able to actually make friends, did you ever think of that? Do you even listen to my teachers when they’ve told you that I haven’t been able to make friends at school because they only want to be friends with me because of my quirk and that’s it!” He let out. “Go to your room.” His father said. “I plan to!” Shouta yelled before storming to his room and slamming the door shut. He changed into nightclothes and flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep and went into the dreamscape. He met again with Hizashi that night and he told him what had gone on between him and his dad earlier that evening. Hizashi listened and played with his soulmate’s hair as he talked.

“We have what? Five more days until we see each other? We can make it through this, Sho. Don’t worry. “Hizashi spoke and smiled. Shouta sighed and relaxed with his head in the blonde’s lap.

“I’ll do my best not to. I’m just glad we get to see each other every night… I have a question. If we weren’t soulmates... do you think we would be friends?” Shouta asked.

“Yeah! I think we would.” Hizashi responded and kissed his forehead. Shouta gave him a soft smile before drifting back to sleep.

§§§§§

The next five days went by quickly and soon it was the morning of the exam. Shouta grabbed his gym bag and ran downstairs to eat some breakfast before his mom would drop him off at the gate of U.A. He glanced down at his arm and the timer said about half an hour. He was excited and his dad could sense it. “What are you so excited about today?” He asked. “I’m excited for the exam dad,” Shouta responded as he ate his cereal.

“There’s something else. Are you going to meet your soulmate?” He asked. Shouta froze and looked up at him. “How did you know?” He asked. “I was the same way before I met your mother. Good luck on the exam son, I hope you make a good first encounter with your soulmate.” He spoke. Shouta thanked him and his mom drove him up to the gate. Shouta got out and checked his timer again. Only twenty more minutes before he would run into Hizashi. He felt butterflies in his stomach as he was both nervous and excited at the same time. He also had the feeling of wanting to puke his breakfast up. “Good luck, Honey. I’ll be back when the exam is over. Just text me and I’ll be here.” His mom said. He nodded and walked into the school. He was led to the gymnasium where they were given the introduction and rules to the exam. He swore he could feel his soulmate in the room. He pushed his sleeve back again and only fifteen minutes remained. He grabbed a pen and wrote something. “Where are you? I swear I can feel you in the room with me.”

“I don’t think I can see you. It's too dark in here. What training ground are you on?”

Shouta checked the little card he received when he was registered.

“I’m in B, what about you?”

“I’m in the same one. I guess we will see each other out there then?”

“Yeah. I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.”

“Me too.”

The instructions were given out and all of the students were told to get changed into whatever they were going to wear for the exam. Shouta got changed into his workout clothes and a basic form of a kind of scarf he used in his training to capture villains. He practically ran to the fake city where his soulmate, himself, and a few hundred other hopeful students were hoping to get into this school. He arrived along with a few others and looked around the small group trying to spot the blonde hair of his soulmate. He checked his timer again and only five minutes remained. He groaned and watched as other kids like himself arrived. He watched his timer count down and reach the last thirty seconds before he squatted down and watched the numbers tick down to zero. Someone was standing over him and he knew that the person standing behind him was his soulmate. His eyes widened and he stood up. “Hizashi?”

“Hi, Shouta. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.” He spoke.

Shouta slowly turned around and saw his face. He raised his hands shakily and cupped his face. He didn’t care if people were watching them. He let his bottled-up emotions pour out and hug his soulmate. “Hey, hey. I’m glad we could finally meet too. The exam is gonna start soon. “I know I just never thought I’d get to meet you, even if the timer ran out.” He told him. He pulled away and held Hizashi’s hands and looked into his eyes. He felt a weight lifted off his shoulders.

“You ready to go get into U.A.?” Shouta asked.

“You bet. Let’s do this!” Hizashi responded. §§§§§

After the exam was over, they were told that they would get letters in the mail in a few weeks as to if they got into the school or not. The pair were leaving the school when Shouta’s stomach growled. “Do you want to grab some lunch? I know a good place around here.” Hizashi suggested. “Sure. Let me text my mom.” Shouta responded as he pulled his phone out and told his mom that he was going to get some food with Hizashi and she responded wishing them to have a good time. They held hands going down the mountain and to a café where they got some food. They sat down in the café and talked for a bit. Shouta looked intensely at his soulmate. “Do you have a symbol somewhere on your body? I have a red and green crescent moon on my wrist. I’m guessing it means that you’re a Luna?” He asked.

“Yeah. I got a little ‘a’ on my neck. I was told that it means you’re an Alpha. I was told when I hit puberty and my dynamic manifested was that I’m a Luna. I don’t know if you looked it up or not but it’s a variant of an Alpha.” He explained. Shouta looked a little confused and leaned back. “So, you’re like me. But not?” “I have both a rut and a heat. So, in the future, I can have kids if we ever want any.” He spoke. Shouta blushed hard and hid his face. He then ate his food. Then they spent the rest of the day together. Shouta even got to spend the night at Hizashi’s place that night.

A few weeks later they both got their acceptance letters into U.A. The both of them celebrated by having a sleepover and then getting supplies that they would need in class. The day of them going to U.A. inched closer as they grew more in love. Shouta did spend one heat cycle with Hizashi before school started and he marked him. The mark appeared as a simple cat head.

They walked into school hand in hand. They were in for one hell of a life together.

The end.

[miracleonice87]

Full of Surprises

a Matthew Tkachuk one-shot

a/n: I rewatched the Tkachuk family Spittin Chiclets interview this morning from the All-Star game in St. Louis and it got me in my Matty feelings. Here’s a proposal story full of fun surprises. Enjoy!

warnings: just swearing — otherwise, total and complete fluff

_____

“Do they know?” I whispered, one arm entwined with one of Matthew’s as both of us stared at the glimmering ring on my left hand.

“Does who know?” Matthew asked in a matching whisper, ducking his head in front of my face. I knew just what he was after — I placed a kiss on the top part of his ear, his favorite, and allowed my tongue to dart out just slightly, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Does your family know?” I clarified as he sat up straight, smirking at me.

We were flying first class, headed to the Tkachuks’ summer home in Cape Cod. I knew that his parents and both of his siblings would be there, but had no concept of how many of them, if any, knew of the engagement that had begun only about eight hours beforehand, on the beach in Bimini.

What I had seen simply as a much-needed getaway from Matthew’s rigid summer workout schedule and from my own bustling days as a graphic designer had quickly turned into the official start of a lifetime together, complete with a Bahamian backdrop.

Matthew shook his head. “No, they have no idea,” he informed me as he pressed a kiss to my temple. I nuzzled my head against his bicep and let my eyes flutter closed, partially in bliss and partially because Matthew and I had gotten maybe two hours of sleep total since the moment he proposed, what with all the celebrating the two of us had done in our hotel room.

I was suddenly so anxious to share our news with our loved ones, starting with Matthew’s family. I smiled at the thought of rehashing the story for any and all who wanted to hear it.

_____

“Matty...” I whispered, tears swiftly filling my eyes and an enormous lump sneaking into my throat.

Matthew had suggested a walk on the beach following our final dinner at the Bimini resort, where we had we spent the evening holding hands over a candlelit table on a private balcony of one of the resort’s fabulous restaurants. After we finished our seafood dinner entrees, he had fed me my half of a delectable piece of chocolate cake as we laughed together behind glasses of red wine.

Little did I know that the sweetest treat was about to come.

Here he was, kneeling in the sand before me, holding a black velvet box, propped open to display the most gorgeous oval-cut diamond ring I’d ever laid eyes on.

“Matty,” I repeated, this time aloud, as I found my voice again. I took a cautious step toward him and wrapped my hands around his outstretched wrist.

“Taylor... baby?” Matthew prompted, his voice strained, shaky. I suddenly realized that the man in front of me had just poured out his soul to me — promising forever, promising a home together, promising a shared legacy of love, joy, and children. And I had yet to give him the answer he was seeking, or any answer at all. His question hung in the ocean air — time stood still.

“Yes! Oh, yes, Matty, yes! Of course!” I choked out, both of us suddenly overcome with nervous and relieved giggles. He sprung to his feet to kiss me, taking my face in his hands and giving me a firm, lingering kiss.

“Can I put the ring on you now?” Matthew asked when he finally pried his lips away from mine. It was then that reality hit and the tears started to flow.

“Yes! Yes, baby.” I held out a shaking left hand to him, which he stroked with his thumb and kissed sweetly before pulling the ring from the box and slipping it onto my finger.

“Oh, my god, it fits perfectly! It’s so beautiful, Matthew!” I exclaimed, gasping at how truly remarkable it looked on my hand. I had imagined what this moment would be like for so many years, ever since I was a young girl with blue glasses in Mrs. Kingsley’s first grade class at McKinley Elementary, watching Matthew play tag from across the playground. The gravity of this moment overwhelmed me and exceeded my every long-held expectation.

The tears continued as I held my hand up to Matthew, showing off my newest accessory. He grinned widely.

“Stay right there, baby,” he instructed, fumbling for his phone in his shorts pocket. “I wanna remember this.” He eventually retrieved the device from his pocket and snapped a quick photo of the momentous occasion before putting his phone away once more. He pulled me in close, our chests flush against each other, hearts racing, and we shared dozens more kisses and laughs there on the shore, both realizing that our forever started tonight.

_____

“Are you happy?” Matthew whispered. My eyes opened and I turned my face up toward his.

“Am I happy?” I asked with an incredulous scoff. “Baby, I’m the happiest,” I reassured. “You make me the happiest.” I sat up further in my plane seat and kissed his cheek, and he smiled down lazily at me. “Good. That’s all that matters to me,” he said.

“Are you happy?” I countered.

He waited a beat, looking deeply into my hazel eyes. “The happiest. The luckiest,” he whispered, stroking my chin with his thumb. I kissed the digit as we stared at each other in content, peaceful silence.

_____

An hour later, our flight landed at Boston Logan Airport. Matthew picked up our suitcases from baggage claim, and we were off to join the Tkachuks at the Cape.

I placed my aviators on my nose as I walked through the automatic doors at the airport’s exit, my newly dubbed fiancé just a step behind me.

“Where’s the car?” I asked over my shoulder, knowing that Matt had arranged for his usual car service to pick us up and haul us to the vacation home.

“Oh, uh... right there.” Matthew threw his head casually in the direction of a black stretch limousine further down the pickup lane. My jaw went slack.

“Matty...” I whispered, peering at him over my sunglasses. “You never get a limo!” He threw his head back in an easy laugh. “Well, I never get engaged, either! Until now,” he remarked. He kissed my cheek and patted my ass lightly with the closed hand that also held his duffle.

“Now, come on, my bride-to-be,” he encouraged. “We’ve got places to be.” I shook my head in disbelief as he sauntered toward the limousine.

_____

Just over an hour later, Matthew and I were pulling into the driveway of the beautiful summer home his family had owned for years. My heart flooded with anticipation. I could not wait for us both to go bounding into the house with our big announcement and be surrounded by loved ones.

“Should I wear my ring? Or should I try and hide it somehow?” I asked quickly, turning toward Matthew as I finished applying some lip gloss, the last step of freshening up my appearance after a long flight.

“You can do whatever you wanna do, babe,” he said, leaning forward and insisting on kissing my freshly-glossed pout. He licked his lips immediately and moaned. “Mmm, peppermint,” he said in a low voice. I chuckled and placed a hand against his cheek, knowing we were sure to celebrate the occasion alone many more times throughout tonight, hopefully after some rest.

“I’m just gonna wear it,” I told him. A grin spread wide across my face as I added, “I’m not gonna be able to keep the news in for long anyway.” Matthew smiled brightly. “Me either, T. Me either,” he told me, kissing my left hand as he had countless times already.

I drew a deep breath and smoothed my fingers over the fabric of my white sundress as the car pulled to a stop in the circular drive in front of the house. It was only when I looked out the window that I noticed all the cars parked alongside the perimeter that I had apparently been too busy to see while primping.

“Matty... what are all of these cars doing here? Who’s here?” I asked softly, frozen, eyes wide. Matthew’s smirk overtook one side of his face.

“Why don’t you go see, babe?” he prompted. I opened my mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to do, or say, or even think.

“Okay,” I finally whispered, taking the hand he had offered me as we moved out of our seats, leaving our belongings behind.

Hand in hand, we walked into the breezeway and through the side door of the house. It was... empty?

I looked up at Matthew, about to ask again why there were so many vehicles in the drive, when a familiar voice called out to us from the back porch.

“Out here!” Chantal...

Matthew was now openly beaming at me, ornery chuckles racking his chest as he gently guided my rigid form to the back sliding glass door. One glance outside stole my breath.

All of his family, all of my family, and dozens of our friends and his teammates stood together in the yard, crowded around tables decked in white, with bundles of silver and white balloons tied together with gold tulle scattered across the lawn. Among the balloon bunches were giant helium-filled diamond rings, and a banner reading “Congratulations, Matthew and Taylor!” was draped across the front of the cabana by the pool.

From where I stood just inside the door, I saw all four of the Tkachuks, my parents, my brother Sean, and my sister Erin huddled together on the deck, the other guests in the yard below starting to cheer as Matthew tenderly pulled me outside. “Come on, babe,” he coaxed with a smile. “There are some people here to see you.”

Tears stung my eyes as I finally stepped outside, clutching Matthew’s hand tightly, fully relying on him to support me and hold me up, both physically and emotionally, just as he always had.

My mom stepped forward from the group first, cupping my face in her hands, tears falling freely onto our cheeks.

“Mommy... you knew!” I said breathlessly. My dad came toward me next, eyes damp, kissing the top of my head. “You all knew!” I exclaimed, loudly enough that many of our other guests several yards away started laughing.

“We knew, sweetheart. Your wonderful fiancé has had all of this planned for quite some time!” my mother explained, pulling away from a tight hug.

“I can’t believe you came all the way from St. Louis!” I told my parents. With a squeeze of my hand, my dad said, “Of course we did. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I threw my arms around them once more, then turned to Keith and Chantal, the sight of them causing me to cry harder.

“Oh, honey! Don’t cry! We’re so happy for you guys,” Keith told me, pulling me close for a hug and kiss on the cheek, his chest vibrating with laughter, as Chantal put her arms around both of us. “So happy, Taylor,” she said, her voice tight as tears escaped her.

Matthew came toward us, having already been greeted warmly by his parents and siblings, and rubbed my back soothingly, his siblings in tow. “I would say welcome to the family, but you’ve already been part of the family for years now, so congratulations, T!” Brady mused, ducking past his brother to wrap me in a suffocating hug, lifting me slightly off the ground.

“Don’t break my sister!” Taryn warned, swiping under her damp eyes. The three of us laughed together, Brady slinging an arm around my shoulder while Taryn enveloped me warmly, sobs shuddering our shoulders. “You’re marrying my stupid brother! What the hell,” she laughed. I pulled back and looked at her with a giddy chuckle. “What the hell!” I echoed emphatically.

Matthew laughed along as he pulled away from hugging both my siblings, who then stepped forward to greet me, Erin squealing as the three of us jumped up and down a few times, arms circling one another. Matthew put his arms around my waist after Erin and Sean each hugged me and kissed my face, rushed words of congratulations and disbelief flying from their lips, as if they’d been holding them in for ages. I leaned back against Matthew’s chest for a moment before turning in his grasp.

“They all knew,” I said in awe. “Everybody knew!” Matthew nodded, carefully swiping his thumb under my eyes so as not to completely wreck my makeup. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to tell them yourself, but I just wanted everyone to be here with us to celebrate,” he said.

“Matty, don’t you dare apologize! The last twelve hours have made me so goddamn happy — I can’t even explain it,” I told him, gripping his white button-down at his waistline as I kissed him firmly, his insistence about the two of us wearing similar outfits for the flight home finally making sense.

“Me too, Taylor. Honestly. I just wanna spend the rest of my days making you as happy as I possibly can,” he told me, his blue eyes sparkling from a few happy tears.

I could not believe that my strong, stubborn, sassy fiancé was crying again for the second time in less than one full day. I kissed the tip of his nose and tucked some of his hair behind his ear.

“You are just full of surprises, Matthew Tkachuk,” I told him, slinging my arms around his neck.

He angled his face closer, stopping just short of pressing his lips on mine.

“You sure you’re ready for a lifetime of me, future Mrs. Tkachuk?” he asked. My heart soared. He guided my hips to sway back and forth gently, the sort of natural, comfortable, everyday dance I was fully prepared to enjoy for the rest of time.

“Hell yeah,” I mumbled against his lips, joyful tears springing to my eyes once more, as our mouths finally met.

[chelsfic]

Leftovers - Part 12/12 - Nandor the Relentless x Female Reader Fanfic

For Previous Parts: WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: The reader shares her last night alive with her new family.

A/N: I realized as I was writing this that this whole fic could really be read as an elongated metaphor for my falling in love with this show and this fandom. I hope you guys like this ending and aren’t disappointed. 

Warnings: Angst, Emotions, Crack humor, Turning into a vampire

---

It’s an hour after sunset and you can hear your housemates stirring. You’re still lying in bed. The ceiling overhead is cracked and peeling in places. You suppose this probably won’t be your bedroom for much longer. Nandor will want you to move into his crypt. Will you have your own coffin? Or will he want to keep sharing? How does one even purchase a coffin for...personal use?

You know you’re stalling. Nandor is being uncharacteristically patient, but he won’t wait all night. You’re not afraid. Okay, you’re afraid. But, you’d be stupid not to be. You saw Guillermo during his transition. He looked like hell for about three whole days. But you know Nandor will take care of you. Well, strike that. You know Nandor will try to take care of you and if he fails, Nadja and Guillermo will be there. 

The night you met...the night you almost became a meal...was your birthday. So much has happened since then. You’ve been kept prisoner, fed upon, attacked, hurt. You’ve also fallen in love with every vampire in this crazy house, even Colin Robinson, bless his heart. Nandor and his bizarre mix of vicious lust and achingly sweet softness has somehow pulled you into this world, into a place you’ve always belonged without even knowing it. So, yeah, you’re afraid. But the idea of not spending every night for the rest of eternity surrounded by these beautiful, damaged, stupid idiots is even more frightening.

A knock comes at your door and Nadja’s voice trills, “Hello, human? May I come in?”

You roll onto your side and sit up, dangling your bare legs over the edge of the bed. You’re wearing one of your few dresses because...well, because you’re going to die tonight and shouldn’t you dress up a little?

Nadja slips inside looking resplendent and deadly as always. She gives you a sympathetic smile and comes to sit next to you.

“Feeling a little nervous about our unholy transition, are we?” she ducks her head and gives you that mama-vampire-knows-best look of hers.

You lean your shoulder into hers, taking comfort in her presence.

“Maybe a little…” you admit. “I’m not having second thoughts or anything it’s just…”

“A little spooky wooky, yes?” Nadja supplies. She wraps her arm around your back and pulls you closer. “Don’t concern your head off, darling. I don’t know if you realize this but I am considered a bit of an expert. I’ve turned many, many humans in my time. Including my dear Laszlo. I’ll make sure Nandor does not slip up and accidentally make you into a zombie monstrosity like my poor Topher.”

You rear back and stare at Nadja with horror stricken eyes, “That’s a possibility!??”

Nadja chuckles and tweaks your nose, “I am giving you sarcasm! To lighten the mood! It’s working, yes?”

You let out a long-suffering sigh that hiccups into nervous laughter.

“I love you, Nadja,” you say with sudden, overwhelming emotion. You dive forward and wrap your arms around her in a fierce hug.

Nadja is stricken for a moment and she pats your back gingerly, “That’s...very nice. You think you want to come downstairs now? Because Nandor is being a real donkey dick down there waiting for you, but his balls are too shriveled to come up here and get you himself.”

You laugh and pull back from the hug, wiping tears from your eyes, “Yeah, let’s go. I’m ready.”

---

“SURPRISE!” 

“HAPPY DEATHDAY!”

“SMASHLEY’S IN DA HOUSE!”

“What’s crack-a-lackin’?”

Nandor looks supremely put out when everyone yells something different as you walk through the door to the fancy room. Does no one listen to him? They had an agreed upon plan! He scowls at at the other vampires, especially fucking Colin Robinson, before sweeping over toward you and taking you from Nadja’s arm.

“Welcome to your Death Day Party! Do you like it?” Nandor looks down at you with those wide, sparkling eyes that make you forget he’s a centuries old blood-sucking fiend who once conquered nations and slaughtered thousands. 

You take in your surroundings with a look of wonder. There’s a giant glitter banner hanging above the fireplace that reads “Congratulations on your Dark Awakening.” You recognize it as Nandor’s handiwork at once. Also, Guillermo has obviously been to Party City because everyone is wearing pointed birthday hats with little Dracula emojis all over them and the whole room is absolutely covered in crepe paper. 

“It’s...so cute!” you squeal, grabbing him around the middle in an enthusiastic hug. This is...just want you needed. A little goofy, human levity before stepping off the edge of the unknown. Your eyes continue wandering over the room until they fall upon a long table set up against the wall. “Oh...my g--gahhhh--is that mac and cheese?”

The table is covered in dish after dish of all your favorite comfort foods. Macaroni and cheese, pizza, lasagna. Apple pie, blueberry pie, cherry pie! There’s a whole giant bowl of Reese’s peanut butter cups. You pull away from Nandor and dash across the room, launching yourself into Guillermo’s arms.

“You’re the sweetest monster I’ve ever known!” you cry, doing your best to squeeze the unlife out of him.

Guillermo laughs, “Listen, you’re going to be puking for days either way. You might as well have one last chance to enjoy human food.”

You roll your eyes, “Thanks for the reminder, Memo.”

“Alrighty!” Nandor is suddenly picking you up from behind and plucking you out of Guillermo’s arms. “That’s enough of that. Why don’t you have some of this--” he turns his head away from you and gags “--yummy food and then we’ll listen to some human musical arrangements that Nadja and Laszlo have prepared.”

Nandor hovers at your side, watching with a wrinkled nose as you pile food onto your plate. You’ve barely made a dent in the impressive spread and you’re feeling guilty about the waste when Colin Robinson ambles up.

“So, nervous about Nandor draining all your blood and killing you tonight?” he asks breezily.

You ignore the question and instead ask one of your own, “Hey, you think you can bring some of the leftovers into your office tomorrow? I’d hate to waste all this…”

Colin’s face lights with a maniacal grin, “Barbara’s on a diet...Yeah...this will be perfect!”

You settle onto one of the couches, sandwiched between Guillermo and Nandor. Both vampires look vaguely nauseated as you tuck into your food, but they’re holding it together.

Laszlo stands up with Nadja and starts strumming a guitar as he addresses everyone, “When I first met our human I assumed she’d soon be fertilizing my vulva garden--”

Nadja slaps his arm and Nandor hisses indignantly.

“But! But!” Laszlo continues, bowing with a flourish in your direction. “I came to realize that this particular human was something special. I decided to accept her into the fold. Mostly because she kept Nandor off my back and also my wife threatened to maim my testicles if I ate her…

“So, here we are, human. The last night of your life and we’ve got just one thing to say…”

The couple launches into a screeching, cloying rendition of “(I’ve had) The Time of my Life” from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack (blatantly stolen from Laszlo’s catalogue of compositions). Your face is frozen in horrified laughter and you flick your gaze to Guillermo’s to see that he’s covering his mouth to stifle his own laughs. On your other side, Nandor is clapping along and bobbing his head with the music. Yup, this is your tribe.

The party goes on for another couple hours. Laszlo and Nadja perform several more “hits” before finishing up with “The Girl in the Village with the Very Small Foot.” Nadja’s singing voice is still ringing in your ears when Nandor bends down to whisper, “It’s time, my human.”

The levity of the party has done a lot to calm your nerves, but you can’t help the sudden grip of anxiety around your throat at his words. You look up, falling, once again, into the fathomless depths of his lovely, dark eyes and you think, That’s what this is. You’re going to live in that deep, dark beauty from now on. There’s nothing scary about that. 

You both stand up to leave and say your goodbyes. Laszlo and Colin wish you luck. Guillermo hugs you and presses several quick kisses to your cheeks as Nandor murmurs warningly, “Watch it!”

When he releases you, you’re suddenly engulfed in the arms of a crying Nadja.

“I do love you, you magnificent, ruthless baby!” she sobs. “Nandor, if you fuck this up I’m going to make a hat out of your asshole.”

You laugh into her shoulder and Nandor complains, “Yeesh! Alright, calm down, Nadja!”

By the time you’ve pried yourself from Nadja’s grip you’ve joined her in crying and your face is soaked. Who knew vampires could be so sentimental?

Nandor grimaces in distaste as he brings his hands up to wipe away the tears.

“Ready!?”

---

Nandor’s crypt looks just as it always does. No crepe paper or glitter in sight. Just the warm glow of candles, the rich red and gold accents of the decor, and the solid familiar bulk of the coffin where you’ve spent so many nights wrapped in his protective embrace. He leads you over to the chaise lounge and you both sit, fidgeting nervously and darting shy glances at one another.

Nandor plucks at the fabric of your dress, “This is nice.”

You smile faintly, “Thanks, I--I thought maybe I should dress up for the occasion. Is that stupid? I guess it’ll just get stained…”

“No,” Nandor cuts in, looking earnest and serious. “No, I’ll be careful.”

You nod and fall silent again. The knowledge of what you’re about to do seems to hang like a thick curtain between you. The easy intimacy that you’ve shared is strained with the gravity of what is to come. Nandor finally huffs out an exasperated sigh and pulls you into his lap. At first you think he’s just going to bite the bullet, so to speak, and dig into your neck at once. But instead he grabs your face and pulls you into a searing, all-consuming kiss. 

He tangles his fingers in your hair, pushing his tongue into your mouth with a low groan. You stroke your hands down the long column of his throat, running them across his broad shoulders and down his back. How this man--this perfectly imperfect, wonderfully fragile, fierce warrior man--has come to choose you, you can’t begin to understand. For countless other human souls, catching the eye of Nandor the Relentless has meant grim misfortune. For you, finding yourself the prey of a murderous vampire is the best thing that’s ever happened in your life. 

Except maybe being MVP at last year’s championship bout.

Nandor’s lips fall away and he looks up at you, panting heavily with his hair mussed and tangled. His gaze flicks down to your exposed throat and you see him swallow in anticipation. He reaches for something on an end table and shows you the stainless steel travel mug containing his blood. You take it from him noting the strip of masking tape on the lid with Nandor’s elegant scrawl--his name and the date.

You snort, setting the container down on the cushions beside you and looking back up at Nandor.

“Prepare yourself, my mortal,” he growls, fangs elongating and eyes flashing with a predatory gleam. 

You turn your head, baring your neck for your vampire boyfriend, and answering lightly, “I have a name, you know.”

---

THE END

A/N: Hey, thank you so so so much to everyone who read and supported this fic from the beginning! Your comments and encouragement mean the world to me!

Tags:

@festering-queen, @kandomeresbitch, @strangestdiary, @glitterportrait, @scuzmunkie, @redwoodshadows, @sarasxe, @rileyomalley 

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 79: The Rites of Blood and Knowledge

Chapters: 79/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: pg 13(Blood)

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),Thor(Marvel) Wanda Maximoff, vision, Bruce Banner

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Party Time, In Reference To Blood Mixing Mentioned In The Eddas

Summary:  The great ceremonies begin.

The dreams were powerful that night, whisking you off to far away places, off to the increasingly familiar form of the gargantuan space artist. There was a strange nostalgia out here that you were slowly coming to recognize as being not your own. How could it be? You had never physically been here, only visited in dreams.

With green and blue sparkling at your right and left, you drifted along in their orbit, yet another asteroid in a primordial star system.

First Wielder.

The concept filtered through your mind, trailing a warm and wistful longing behind it.

Peace. Eternity. Creation.

Before battle. Before separation. Before imprisonment.

Before all.

The star system was strange: every time you came here, the sun was a little different. A variable star, its brightness oscillating, it was still young and new.

There was only one planet in this system, located fairly close to the star. The presence of the colossal giant perturbed the asteroids and gas around the star, but their great mass prevented them from coalescing.

Comets formed in great numbers from the gas and ice beyond them, whizzing past them, inspiring new drawings. Asteroids clumped up against them; a brush of their great hand sent them flying, to collide into one another, to spin away from their unstable orbit, and join the comets on their cross-system journey, to crash into the singular planet.

The colossus watched with the patience of true immortality, as the planet burned and erupted, filled up with water, and clouds, and sky.

Thoughtfully, they regarded an asteroid they held in one hand, then, with their color-stained fingers, they began to draw.

The wistfulness and regret reached their peak, and you woke up in the empty bathtub, with a thought ringing in your head.

The Wielders always came to a bad end.

                                                                            ******

Loki was somewhat disgruntled to discover that you'd been having these dreams without him. He didn't scold, but his concern was clear. You described them in as much detail as you could, but, to your dismay, he didn't have any explanation for what you'd been seeing while you slept.

It would just have to remain a mystery. The upcoming day was going to be far too busy to dwell on it.

Both you and Loki had dressed in your absolute finest, your armor polished bright, your skirt covered in embroidery, your chest and neck festooned in beads of carved gold and pearl. You still felt a little bit like you were so buried in finery that you became invisible, but you tried to carry it with pride. All of this had been put together especially for you, and that hard work deserved to be shown off.

Loki was so magnificent in his fur-trimmed cloak, and elaborate helmet, you had to firmly tell yourself not to spend the whole day just staring at him all moon-eyed.

Maybe just a few hours.

Today, the Second Feast, was really the main event, as far as this Buridag was concerned. At noon, you would participate in the Blood Taking ceremony, wherin you would 'mingle blood' with the royal brothers, in order to be formally adopted into Asgardian high society. This would cement your status as high enough to advise Loki as one of the most important members of his personal entourage. And before the evening feast, you would perform the ritual that would confirm you as an official Seidkona.

But before that, you would have the time to run around and enjoy the festival.

It was set up like a combination job fair and reenactment fest. Stalls lined the streets and filled courtyards, peopled by the crafters of Asgard. Smiths, armorers, and carpenters, goldsmiths, lapidaries, scrimshanders, and glassblowers. Weavers, spinners, leatherworkers, and dyemakers, artists, musicians, chefs, academics, mages, stonemasons, construction workers, scribes, dancers, and cheesemongers. All the sights, and sounds, and scents, and flavors that made up Asgard were being demonstrated and celebrated.

Your Father and Tara joined you in the streets, and Loki reluctantly released you into their care, having some preparation left to do.

Tara, flouncing around in an apron dress and domed brooches very much like your usual style, gushed over how beautiful you looked, and your father, rather sheepishly dressed in an Asgardian greatcoat and cowl, agreed openly.

“You look like a princess.” he said. “A real one. You...You walk different now. Talk different. You look so strong.”

“Is it me, or are all these people following us?” Tara asked, not very quietly. A few chagrined people in the crowd that flowed in your wake down the street peeled away, and wandered in different directions. The rest either had less shame, or had orders to keep watch over you.

You spared the group a glance. There appeared to be a solid mix of Asgardians and humans, several of which had their phones out. You surmised there would be a new wave of photos of you on the internet over the next few days.

“Keep your cowl up dad.” You advised.

“Want me to run them off?” he offered.

“Nah. I don't really mind if they take pictures of me. Can't really hurt anything.”

“Wasn't so great last time.” Tara pointed out. “I spent a lot of time stanning for you.”

“Well, last time was sensationalized bullcrap. This time is a nice festival. I mean, check out that guy!”

That Guy was a glassblower in his stall, spinning a huge, bubble thin amphora of rose pink glass. You had seen its like before, but never seen one made.

“Oh, they age crystal mead in those! The pink lets in the right wavelengths of light that give it it's shimmering quality.”

“What's crystal mead?” your father asked.

“Don't try more than a few sips, if anyone offers.” you warned. “Asgardians have iron guts. Their booze is way too strong.”

“Yeah, they warned us about that on the plane.” Tara said. “And yesterday, it looked like they had everything divided up by species, so no one got the wrong thing.”

You took them around to various demonstrations: spinners spinning yarn, brewers preparing several of Asgards many alcoholic beverages, apothecaries showing how basic medicines were made, a cobbler putting together a nice pair of boots.

“So, Asgard's really advanced, right?” Tara asked. “Why is everything like Ye Olden Times?”

“Asgard's never had that big a population, even at it height. There just isn't that much demand for mass production. Most things are bespoke, or self-made. Quality depends entirely on the maker, so that, of course, becomes a competition. And that, in turn, becomes a matter of cultural pride. Also, they have thousands of years to get good at what they do, so Asgardian made goods are super high quality, and they judge personal worth by that. I don't think they'll ever automate; it would go against a lot of what they stand for.”

You snagged the three of you a traditional Asgardian snack; fat sausages, wrapped in savory pastry. You thought it might be good to have something else in your stomach before the first ceremony.

Tara called them Asgardian corn dogs, which you couldn't wait to share with Loki, if only to watch his nose wrinkle with disdain over the undignified term.

“So when do we have to let you go?” Tara asked.

You checked your phone for the time, stuffing the last of your sausage into your mouth.

“Eh, I've got a few minutes left. Better start heading over though.”

Your winding path through the courtyards took you past minstrels, impromptu dances, and games, to a large, tall dais that had been put together as a temporary mirror to the throne room. It towered over the City Hall courtyard like a ziggurat. You'd be up there soon enough, but currently...

“Who's that?” your father asked, pointing at a man standing at the top. “Doesn't look like Thor.”

You squinted up at the figure, his bright armor shining in the rarefied sunlight.

“Ah, That's Heimdall. He's the Guardian of Asgard, and god of...uh, sight? I think? Vigilance? It's not quite that neat and simple, you know? The whole 'God Of' thing is a bit more complicated than that.”

“So that's a god?” your father asked. “How can you tell? Are they all gods? What does that even mean?”

“All good questions. Mostly because they are very hard to answer.”

Your father and Tara jerked at the sudden new voice, and, not for the first time, you found yourself amazed at how easily a man of the sheer size and importance as the king of Asgard could sneak up on people.

“Your Majesty.” you said calmly, inclining your head. Your father and Tara dipped into awkward bows, a little awed by the mythical figure before them. Thor didn't necessarily demand obeisance, but he didn't exactly discourage it either; he let people act as they felt appropriate.

“Not every Asgardian is a god.” Thor explained. “Those that are go by the term 'Aesir', a common name through most of the realms for beings of that type. You are born Aesir; you cannot become one by outside influences. However, Aesir nature doesn't always become apparent at birth, it often doesn't manifest until adolescence. As for what it means to be Aesir...that doesn't have so straightforward an answer. I leave it to the philosophers, who, incidentally, are in booth seventy-eight.

Anyway, I have come to collect your daughter for the ceremony. There isn't much time left, so we'd all better get in place. If you go through those two poles there right now, you can get very good seats.”

“This could get a bit weird.” You warned. “It's a ceremony more ancient than any recorded human practices, so it's probably going to seem archaic.”

“Oh, it's not so bad.” Thor said. “It's been updated and refined over all those years. For instance, everyone remains clothed now, and there are at least seventy percent fewer entrails used.”

Your father coughed, and you rolled your eyes. Thor's sense of humor was difficult for you to understand, considering how serious he was about everything. The thing about Thor's jokes was that he might have been joking about something that had really happened, or he might have been joking about something he'd completely made up, but he would never specify which.

“On that note, I've got to go.” you said. “Entrails to sort, and all that.”

Your father coughed again, Tara patting him compassionately on the back.

“Good luck!” she called to your receding back.

                                                                                ******

“Now, you've been fully briefed on what will happen during this ceremony, correct?” Thor asked, as the two of you loitered near the back stairs of the temporary dais. People were filtering in to seats and standing room around the courtyard, waiting for things to start.

“I think so.” you said. “If I've got this right, there's going to be a special dance-”

“The Alignment of the Celestial and Worldly bodies, yes.” Thor said. “It symbolizes everything that must come together to bring the 'adoptee' to the greater 'family'. In this case, it will tell the story of how you came here to join our family.”

A soft warmth crept up your neck, and heated your ears beneath your helmet. You knew it was all socio-symbolism, but the notion of 'joining the family' hit differently now that you were on intimate terms with Loki.

“And then all the braziers will have some kind of incense thrown in, and in the smoke, we'll all go up the stairs like we're magically appearing. Honestly, it sounds like it'll look really cool.”

“All ceremonies contain a bit of theatrics.” Thor agreed. “Perhaps that is the most important part. Or that's the part that makes it important. I wish we still had some of the traditional ceremonial incense, but we just don't have access to the materials anymore. You would have liked it; it was much more floral than most of what you have here. We did manage to get some lavender though. That should be nice.”

“Maybe one day, when the Bifrost is more stable.” You said. It did sound very nice. “Loki said that you, and he, and Heimdall will sing a blessing song?”

“Yes, a divine blessing from a trio of Aesir. It's got to be three. And then...”

“Yeah. And then.” Loki had told you about the bloodletting. He had been very frank about it. “I know. I'm nervous, but not afraid.”

Thor nodded. “Sometimes there are unforeseen effects, but never anything bad. You'll be perfectly safe.”

“I know. The nervousness just comes from knowing it'll hurt. Even if just for a short time.”

You buckled under Thor's hand when it came down on your shoulder, enveloping the whole thing.

“Loki would rather slice out his own guts than draw your blood, trust me. He's been trying to figure out how to get around it for weeks. Unfortunately, the blood is the most important part of the magic. It carries all of the power. It's very old magic: according to him, this is practically the only part of the ritual that has remained unchanged from the beginning.”

“Did there really used to be entrails and naked people, or was that a joke?”

“Ehhh, well, yes and no. This ceremony originated with the Vanir, and they are not opposed to nakedness under certain circumstances. In this case, everyone who attended was expected to leave the clothes they came in at the door, and wear a special loincloth instead. This was actually to prevent violence, by barring hidden weaponry from being brought to ceremony grounds. So rather than pure nudity, everyone was dressed as scantily as was possible.

As for entrails...unfortunately yes, that was also a part of it. A seer would perform a divination using the entrails of a slaughtered animal. That practice was going out of fashion, even before the war, and I don't think anyone today even remembers how it was done.”

You shuddered. Yes, it was a different culture, and a long time ago, but it still grossed you out.

“I'll have to remember to thank Loki for trying to get me out of it, even if he wasn't successful.” You said. He really did put in a lot of effort behind the scenes. If only he were more open about some of that effort, so you could appreciate it more.

“He was adamant about the bull.” Thor said. “Demanded a private ritual the night before. Put your helmet up on the pillar, then sacrificed and butchered the beast himself. Insisted on it. Did our ancestors proud, but you know he knows his way around a knife.”

“I wish he'd told me. I was really stressed about that whole thing. I'm glad, in the end, that he was thinking of me, but I really wish I'd known. I wouldn't have lost so much sleep!”

“It was a little last minute.” Thor admitted. “I approved it the instant he explained, but we had to do it pretty much immediately afterwards. He really should have told you, but I fear my brother is usually more invested in the making of plans, rather than what to do once they come to fruition. I feel you will be a positive influence on him, though.”

Even though he was wearing his eyepatch, rather than the mismatched prosthetic, his one blue eye was open and sincere.

“I think so too.” you said. You already were influencing each other. It was impossible to live so close, to sleep in the same bed, without doing so. But Loki did have a bad habit of assuming things, a by-product of his upbringing as a leader, you supposed. You would simply have to speak up more.

Perhaps you had gotten too comfortable. But perhaps you wanted to be too comfortable. It might be a holdover from your year of struggle, but having someone who wanted to do so much for you was very tempting. You knew it would be better to strive for a balance, but you also knew that, unless Loki somehow diminished himself severely, the two of you would never truly be equals.

But you admired that greatness, and somehow, those all too common flaws in him made him easier for you to love. They made him so real.

An ambling drum beat started up, accompanied by the brassy ting of zills, and a flute. Loki joined you and Thor in peeking out around the dais, just as a group of dancers spread out around the courtyard.

You'd been told that the dancers represented personages from history and legend. You were pretty sure that the three women who orbited the dance stage equidistant from one another must be the Norns, and you assumed the cluster of people standing beneath a glittering tree branch and clanging their zills were probably meant to be the ancestors of the royal family.

The dance told a story of a woman dressed like you, and a man dressed like Loki, wearing silver bells at their wrists and ankles that jingled with every step. They made everything look so much more graceful and sensual than it really had been: Holding hands like the rune branding had been on purpose, dancing circles with each other, like everything had been friendly and not at all awkward from the very beginning. How elegantly 'you' swooned into 'his' arms, while the assassin was caught. How triumphantly 'you' defended 'him' against the Huldra. And how beautifully 'he' clasped 'you' in a romantic, yet properly chaste embrace.

There was none of the blood, none of the fear, or anger, or petulance, or confusion. No loss, or loneliness, or uncertainty.

But that was how it worked, wasn't it? None of those things could be shown to the general public. This was ceremony. This was spectacle! This was what would be remembered.

The pair danced away, out of sight, the ancestors retreated, and the Norns raised their arms in unison. All around the courtyard, attendants dumped incense into the torches and braziers, sending thick smoke and mysterious perfume wafting over the entire area.

“Show's on, darling.” Loki said, grasping your shoulders, and leading you up the stairs. A new wave of anxiety washed over you as you rose above the sweet smelling clouds like a legend. Heimdall stepped aside to let you pass, Loki and Thor leading you right up to the edge of the elevated platform, where waited a podium, upon which rested a brass bowl. An unfamiliar rune was stamped on its bottom. So that was where the magic would happen.

Thor held his hand out over an unlit brazier just in front of the podium and concentrated. Scarcely a moment later sparks danced between his fingers and jumped to ignite the fuel. The light illuminated the clouds of incense, obscuring the audience. Cut off thus from every other person out there, you didn't flinch as the trio of gods each placed a hand on you, and began to sing.

You couldn't help but wonder if they had done this before. It was a complex song, with rising and falling harmonies, parts layered over one another, something that couldn't have been easy to learn. As their voices dipped and flowed, you felt the power rising, just like out in the camp, months ago. Why could you sense divine power? Was it because of your magic? Was there anyone out in the crowd that could feel it too?

Thor's good eye had begun to sparkle with crackling white energy, the power of the blessing he was singing into you. You assumed Heimdall, behind you, was lighting up orange, and when you turned your head to glance at Loki, you were suffused with the gentle glow of the blue light from your dreams.

All of the anxiety drained out of you at the touch of that light, your arms dropping to your sides as relaxation took over.

Everything was all right. Loki was right beside you. Thor and Heimdall were with you, their voices reverberating through you, their blessing upon you. The rare winter sun filtered down over you like a blanket, as the last notes of the Aesir's song filled your head.

Loki gently took your hand, gazing earnestly into your face as the calming light faded from his eyes.

“Forgive me, my love.” he whispered.

A sudden, painful jab, ripped you out of your cocoon of sunny calm. With a sharp cry, you turned to stare at your fingertip, pierced deeply by the tip of one of Loki's knives.

Loki held your hand over the brass bowl, letting the blood drip, enough to cover the rune at the bottom. Then he tenderly bandaged the tiny wound, lines of regret around his eyes. Thor held his hand out for a slash, and then Loki turned the blade on himself. Blood slowly filled the little bowl, as a light throbbing started in your head. Every drop that rippled its surface was like a giant heartbeat within you.

Once it was full, Thor and Loki began singing again, lifting the small bowl between them. They held it up to the sun, and then poured it onto the burning brazier. The fire sputtered, sizzling, sending a huge cloud of smoke directly into your face. You gagged on the scent of burning blood, practically bathed in it, a layer of death-scent on your skin. The song cut through it, thrumming in your ears, an echoing promise of cherishment and fidelity.

The blood burned down into nothing, the smoke slowly clearing. All of the people in the courtyard came back into view, the upturned faces solemn. The dancers below picked up the chorus.

And you understood them.

Loki took your hand and lifted it up, flourishing to the crowd. They cheered, while you stood there, stunned. You understood what they were saying, their enthusiastic calls, their songs. The blood smell lingered in your nose, the throbbing swiftly receding from your head.

He led you to the stairs down as you wobbled, but you never made it all the way down. Dizziness overcame you, and you collapsed into Loki's arms.

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (38)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

Soon. Soon, death will strike with its vengeful and saving scythe. Soon the blood will flow, in a golden setting. soon... Danny will kill Hoggins. After tomorrow, in the evening, to be more precise. But before that, the festival. Tomorrow, Danny will have to do everything possible to stay focused for article on the Roseville Festival. Mattew and Melina will be there to support him, but he is the one who will take the pictures. And he will have to take a lot of them. He will not really have time to enjoy it unfortunately. Especially since they will not be the only journalists on the spot, newspapers from other cities will be there too. It will be an opportunity to see new faces... and if possible, to have an exit door. Because if he can impress these journalists, maybe they'll offer Danny to come and work with them? Maybe.

The police will also be present to monitor the central square. Wilhelm too, unless he was too busy with Hoggins. But there will be at least one inspector, that's for sure. It remains to be seen who it will be. And you will be there, holding your stand, selling your pastries with your two employees. Just like Danny, you won't be able to enjoy the festival fully but it doesn't matter, you can always have a little party... in private.

Besides, Danny thinks back to last night. He appreciated that you were more playful, more enterprising with him. It amused him a lot. A sneaky smile stretched on his face; he already imagined all the little "games" that you could both play. But he will start slowly, he would not want to destroy everything. Mattew comes to rest next to him, sighing completely exhausted.

“Did you get up on the wrong foot?” asks Danny.  

“No, the boss wanted to see me for tomorrow... he told me to focus on the festival and not on the stands to eat. But if there is the pastry stand of (Y/N) I will not be able to resist! He knows it! I would like to see him in my place, I am sure he would do the same!” responds Mattew sulking.  

“Haha it's clear, but he's not wrong especially that other journalists will be there as well, we have to look good in front of them. But don't worry, I'm sure (Y/N) will still have a lot of cakes for us. And then you can taste his famous cake. I can't wait to see what it will look like in the end.”

“Besides, how does it work in your new apartment? doesn't that make you weird all this space?” replied Mattew.

“Very well, very well... it’s true that at the beginning it was strange to live together when we used to live each on our own. But we get used to it. And then... we have several opportunities to... test the resistance of the bed, if you know what I mean.” responds Danny, smiling jokingly.

Mattew looked at Danny with big eyes while Melina who was passing by at the same time started laughing. Danny also laughed as he patted the shoulder on his colleague who was still shocked. All three took a coffee break to chat a little, while enjoying the fresh air... of the air conditioner. It was a little hot today and, in the offices, even more. So, the air conditioner was welcome. They meet Nancy, the newcomer of the team. The poor woman was lost, until now she had only done odd cleaning jobs despite her diploma as a journalist. She wore small round glasses, her black hair tied in a ponytail gave her a little schoolgirl side or the cliché of shy and clumsy women. Afterwards, the poor woman was really clumsy. How many times has she dropped her coffee? too many times to remember. And it had only been a week since she was there.

“Have you heard the latest news about Hoggins? Apparently other former collaborators are ready to testify against him if there is ever a trial. From what some have said, Hoggins has been manipulating people for years and years to get them to invest in his business and mysteriously they have all sunk. He even did it with foreign collaborators. What a son of a bitch.” Said Melina.  

“He really fucked the whole world this guy it's not possible. Let him be fucked up in prison once and for all! The prisoners will take care of him! If you see what I mean...” responds Mattew.  

“The famous trick of the soap?”

“I would rather say the famous Swiss army knife trick. It's very easy to get one in without being noticed in prison... I've seen that before.” Replied Danny, sipping his coffee.  

“What? have you ever been to prison?” asks Melina shocked

“Yes. When I started my job as a journalist, me and my superior at the time went to a prison to interview a prisoner who was wrongly accused. And we took the opportunity to write about what was happening in prison. At one point I turned my head towards one of the cells, and I saw one of the prisoners pull out a knife that he had had hidden in a banana bread.”

“A great classic that. I am still amazed to see that the prison guards are not more on their guard than that...”

Danny shrugged his shoulders; he was not surprised. As it did not surprise him if these same prisoners managed to escape. But because they are idiots, they end up in prison again for the same crime. Dumbass. Danny never got caught at least. At the same time, he did everything to never get noticed or arrested. And yet he left from afar! He learned on his own... and he was lucky. And he intends to keep his chance with him... Oh, yes.  

Observing through the window, Danny noticed that the city was adorned with a thousand colours. The last banners were hung, the leaflets distributed, the posters glued. Tomorrow, Roseville would have been in existence for exactly 32 years. And Mayor Tallis is the one who runs this city... This man is truly an impressive person. And respectable. It’s perhaps the only one that is respectable in this city.  After you.

Our trio went back to work, each on their article, Danny on Hoggins' article. So, he's hated all over the world... In a sense it wouldn't be so bad if Hoggins stayed alive. it could be the scoop of the century! the case that could boost his career! Imagine how sensational a trial article could be. Especially if it's Danny who writes it. Even if he is a murderer, this is not a reason to abandon those why he spent his youth and his studies. He has to work hard, very hard even to get to this point! While Danny was working, his phone rang. A hidden number? That's not a good sign... unless it’s still these sellers who are trying to bait you with their stupid products.

“Roseville’s Gazette, Jed Olsen on the phone, what can I do for you?” said Danny.

“Hi..."Olsen".” responds a man voice.

“Hoggins. How did you get my number?”

“I have my sources as well. But you suspect that I am not calling you out of pure courtesy.”

“Gets straight to the point. What do you want?” replied Danny.  

“Leave this girl. Otherwise, you'll regret it bitterly little asshole. You don't realize who you're dealing with...” responds Hoggins.

“No, I think it's YOU who don't know who you're dealing with. And believe me I intend to make you pay for it. The prisoners will take good care of you, when the court will sentence you to jail for fraud, plus a voluntary homicide... You are cooked Hoggins. You can hide, you can lie as much as you want, you will not be able to escape your destiny. If Ghostface does not decide to kill you for copying its modus operandi. Because he attacked poor people for a few days... because of you. He can't stand being robbed of the show. Now if you excuse me... I have a job to do. Oh, and one last thing...” said Danny Before taking on a more menacing tone: “If you dare to threaten MY girlfriend again... it’s not her who will have an accident. But you.”

Danny hung up dryly, leaving Hoggins no time to say anything. This guy doesn't lack grit decidedly... he will have been a strong opponent, Danny must admit. But not enough to survive any longer. He sent an email to Wilhelm where he explained everything that was said in the conversation between him and Hoggins. Like that, it will make one more ball at the foot of this son of a bitch.  

The rest of the day went smoothly. Mr. Hembrook had summoned Danny to set up tomorrow's day. There will be a total of 4 newspapers, including them, at the festival. It will therefore be necessary to look good! It will also be necessary to take good photos, and to transcribe the speech of Mayor Tallis. Unfortunately, not everyone will be able to come tomorrow. The Gazette must therefore allow these poor people to know what the mayor said for this year's festival.

He worked another hour or two before returning to the apartment. It was quite late, and he had sent you a message to warn you to not wait for him to eat if you were too hungry and he apologized. To which you replied that it didn’t matter, and that you would put a plate aside for him. He parked, entered the building, and went up to the apartment. When he opened the front door, it was dark. no sign of life from you... Until he sees something moving on the couch. When he turned on the light, he sighed as he saw you asleep and, in your pyjama, his coat on you.

“Honey? Honey... Wake up... I'm home.” said Danny.  

“Hm... Jed? Sorry I fell asleep... I'm going to make you warm up your plate... I hope you like Udons...” you respond rubbing your eyes.

“You should go to bed instead... you barely stand. You must have had a big day. I'll take care of everything don't worry about it... I join you after eating and after a good shower.”  

You nod by yawning, which made Danny laugh. He placed a kiss on your forehead before letting you go to your room. Poor of you.... you are exhausted. He warmed up his dish of Udons and moved to his office to work. He worked for an hour, then he left his office by locked it, made the dish, took clean clothes and went to shower. He changed, and walked into the room, to find you asleep in bed, Danny's cushion in your arm like a stuffed animal. You're so cute... He gently regained his cushion, putting himself in the place of the latter in your arms. He laughed lightly when he saw your arms tighten around his waist, and he placed a kiss on your cheek before turning and stalling in bed.

He looked at his phone for about ten minutes, just to find sleep, which eventually happened. He thought back to the conversation with Hoggins. If only he knew what awaited him... if only he knew... But that would spoil the surprise. 2 Days... it's going to be a long time. But the most amusing thing will not be hoggins' death. The most fun will be your reaction. And whatever your reaction, he's ready to react. For good and for worse. A little conversation between Danny and Jed is in order.

“Everything is ready for your little massacre?” said Jed calmly.

“You don't seem to object to it this time... Jed.” Responds Danny.

“Don't claim victory too quickly, I'm not for that kind of thing... But here Hoggins touches on something precious. Or rather someone. As much for me as for you. And I'm not going to let him do it.”

“No, it's ME who's not going to let him do it. Believe me... you'll enjoy the show too.”

“What's next? What will happen?” replied Jed.  

“I don’t know. We shall see how things develop. In the meantime, we must prepare... as much for tomorrow. That for the day after tomorrow.” responds Jed.  

Yes... we have to be prepared. Because these next two days are going to be intense.

But really delicious.

***

(Phew! this week has been just as busy as the previous one! But I managed to finish this chapter! As for the RE8 fanfic I'm progressing pretty well! I may do a little teaser post to give you an overview! As for the title... I'm stuck. I have three ideas in mind and I can't make up my mind... Help me XD I hope you’ll like this chapter like the others ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all!  See ya!)

[joontier]

The King’s Guard | Chapter 6

pairings: kim seokjin x reader ; jeon jungkook x reader ; min yoongi x reader

series rating: R(18+) | genre: angst, forbidden love

warnings: none to note really 

word count: 4.8k

g/n: I MADE A NEW BANNER slkdfslfs; also here’s some tiny history to Yeongkwan and Misun and if you get how they’re all connected.... MUAHAHAHAHAHA *continues laughing evilly in the corner as I rub my hands together* HEH yalls better get ur close reading glasses on skfksldfl 

The King’s Guard - Masterlist  ||  navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 6

Once, there was a timid, young boy who was often misunderstood as misanthropic because of his reserved character. He preferred playing on his own than with the other children, he found amusement in what children of his age would usually find mundane. It wasn’t the other children’s fault either that their company wasn’t enjoyable for him.

Even at a young age, the little boy seemed to find happiness in the little things. He often spent his time alone in deep thought, wondering how things came to be as they currently were. The small boy was curious about the things that didn’t even seem to matter due to the laws of naturality.

He loved looking up in the sky, even if it hurt his eyes; he liked the breeze, the way the dawn’s crisp air hits his face; he enjoyed hiding between tall stalks of corn and rice, watching little bugs move up and down the stems. He was entertained with the way the flowers bloomed, and took pleasure in watching the fish in the rivers swim away when he dipped a finger in.

He was simply observant. Different, as it may have seemed to others, but he would not have it any other way.

On a particularly windy day, he decided that it was the best time to bring out the kite he had long wished for. His father had made it specially just for his birthday, and the little boy was beyond elated to have received such a gift. He always took it with him when they went to the farm where his parents worked and among the lush, green grass, he would spend most of his day playing and watching and observing.

The young boy, having held a kite for the first time in his life, fumbled with the diamond-shaped paper toy, unraveling the thread that had been haphazardly spun around the kite in his haste that morning. As he feels the soft breeze slowly fading, he hurries with his toy, successfully getting the kite to fly higher than he had usually seen with the other kids.

A particularly strong gust of wind caught him off guard, and the poor boy struggled to follow the direction of the wind as he kept an eye of the thread. Preoccupied with figuring out how to save his kite, he failed to take notice of a small mound of soil by his feet. The little boy eventually tripped and fell backward, knocking down someone else with him as he fell.

The boy’s eyes widened in panic. Abruptly, he got on his knees, head bowed down as he apologized profusely. He instantly hears the stern reminders of his parents in his head, telling him to always take precaution wherever he went for the land he was playing on was not their own, and they were mere farmers stepping on the grounds of their generous master.

Eyes closed in anticipation of an imminent punishment, the boy slightly trembled in his knelt position, fists balled to anticipate the pain that was to come. Nothing happened though, save the sound of the dewy grass getting squished under the weight of something.

The young boy pried one eye open, surprised to see a girl’s shoes peeking from a mud-spoilt silk dress in front of him. All the more anxious after realizing that he had accidentally toppled a girl over, the boy bows further to the ground, face only mere inches away from the soil.

He felt the girl step closer as she dusted off her clothes. The stranger asked if he was okay. Unable to hold his reaction in, the boy looked up at her, brows furrowed in confusion. He was the one who had knocked her over, and yet she was the one asking if he was okay. Who was she? Why was she concerned with his well-being? Wary, the boy remained silent, staring at the girl. She held a hand out to help him get up, but as the boy figured his palms were probably covered in dirt, he ignored the girl’s extended arm and got up on his own.

Shrugging, she retracted her hand back to her side. As they finally got to eye level, the pair stared at each other as they studied each other’s features. The girl tilted her head to the right in curiosity with the boy following the same action. Amused, the continues moving after that watching as the stranger in front of her mirrored her actions. “What’s your name?” the girl asked, subconsciously tipping her head to the side. The boy purses his lips in thought first, then answers her question, “My name is Jeon Yeongkwan. And yours?” 

The girl’s face lights up and Yeongkwan finds himself reciprocating the warm action. “Hello Jeon Yeongkwan. I’m Min Misun. It’s nice to meet you.”

The sudden giggle that escapes his wife’s lips pulls him out of his treacherous reverie. Sighing quietly, he watches his wife listen intently to the king animatedly telling the story of his life. If he just wasn’t so preoccupied with trying to drown out the thoughts that have ultimately betrayed him, he would have listened as well, as this was the first time he had seen the king talk with this much enthusiasm.

The children, even at their very young ages, had practically inhaled all their food, taking more than enough servings from the generous amount of food which had been prepared just for the five of them. Yeongkwan, on the contrary, had completely lost interest in the food, picking at the small cube of beef on his bowl. With nothing else left to distract him as the king had brought toys for the kids to play with at the other side of the room, the poor husband was forced to listen to the conversation on the table – almost feeling as if it was he who was disturbing the two.

As he watches the king’s eyes twinkle with delight as he talks to Misun, Yeongkwan’s own lower with sadness. The fine china in front of him suddenly piques his interest and as he studies the intricate patterns inside the ceramic bowl, he is once again reminded of the kind of life Misun was born into – the life she deserved.

Min Misun was a woman born into nobility, and Yeongkwan had gone through a lot of beating because of their relationship. Of course, a son of a mere farmer and the daughter of a man who owned lands in several cities? Nobody would have even dared imagined.

Yeongkwan’s family had served the Mins for as long as he could remember, but he could vividly recall the day he had met her just like it was yesterday. Yeongkwan couldn’t stop looking at them – how perfect they look together: the spitting image of a royal couple. He tries hard to not let the bitterness swallow him whole, but he has experienced this his whole life, and a man could only take one so many punches.

He imagines how difficult it must have been for his wife to leave her precious life like that, when comfort was not a luxury but something already ingrained in their lives. He imagines what life would have been if he hadn’t met Misun at all, if she had only chosen the man she was truly betrothed to. As for Yeongkwan, well, life for him would have been the same all along – working in the fields from dusk to dawn.

But Misun, his lovely Misun… she wouldn’t even have to cook, hadn’t she had been so stubborn. Even his own parents had not favored his friendship with the landowner’s daughter, saying it was too much of a risk for the whole family. But alas, the matters of the heart are exclusively a person’s own, and despite being burdened by the consequences of his or her actions while doing so, nothing ever matters as long as the heart’s desires are fulfilled. 

Throughout the years, the unusual friendship of the two had eventually blossomed into a romantic relationship. It was Yeongkwan who had fallen first - he figured that out when seeing Misun was the only thing he looked forward to for the day. In fact, she was the first thing on his mind when he woke, and was his last thought before he went to sleep. 

Daily, they would meet in a more secluded area of the plantation, where they would talk for hours. On some days, Misun would offer a hand in farming. Yeongkwan declined at first, knowing a plantation was not the place she ought to spend her days in. But Yeongkwan, powerless to stop the person he loved from doing something she wanted to do, indulged her so. 

They’d spend their days like that, talking to each other while Misun occasionally helped with the farming. One day, she came to their rendezvous a little later than expected and when Yeongkwan showed her a small plot where she could plant her own rice but she instantly shook her head no, narrating how she was scolded for coming home with dirt on her hands and on her clothes. But a few scolding wasn't enough to hinder two people enjoying each other’s company. 

The two got closer and they would meet even on the days when Yeongkwan’s family wasn't at their plantation to work. Years passed by and as the two grew into maturity, so did their feelings. Their unlikely friendship had inevitably blossomed into something deeper, more intimate. 

Their attraction to each other was as clear as day, but the future of their relationship was as vague as the night sky filled with clouds. Of course, a daughter of a rich man and a farmer’s son? Such could never be. Yeongkwan and Misun knew that from the very start, deep within the recesses of their heart, but both had already fallen in too deep, and there was nowhere else to go but forward. 

There came a time when Yeongkwan thought their unofficial relationship was on the brink of failing. It was when Misun was about to celebrate her coming of age, and with that came the obligation to select a suitor of her parents’ choosing, one she would inevitably be married off to. Misun thought it was about time they addressed the burden that will soon be in her hands. 

Clearly, there was only one man she thought was suited for her, and it was Yeongkwan. He was gentle, caring, loving, and understanding. He was the man she always wanted but could never have - only because he was lacking, financially, in her parents’ eyes. Destiny had its wretched ways of wrecking the poor souls of people who just want to love and be loved. 

Misun picked a sunny day to express her perturbation, in the hopes that it might help ease the storm that was brewing in her heart, in case Yeongkwan might give up on her just as he had feared. The young man had met her at the usual rendezvous, and walked together in silence and trepidation towards their favorite spot: under the shade of an oak tree, of their oak tree. 

As Yeongkwan rests his back against the trunk, Misun shyly leans towards him, resting her head on his shoulder. The man’s heart thumps wildly against his chest, trying to control his emotions over the simple action. Misun is likewise not doing any better, overcoming her shyness to initiate a small display of affection, unsure if this might be the last they might see each other. 

The couple sit there for a while, just enjoying the cool breeze of autumn. When she deems it the right time to say it, she looks up at Yeongkwan, placing a hand over his. “My love, as you know, I am coming of age in a few days’ time, and I will have no choice but to select a suitor of my parents’ choosing, but I want you to know that you are the only one for me.”

Yeongkwan places a hand atop hers and Misun feels the slightest ounce of security seep into her. “I desire no one else but you, Yeongkwan,” Misun repeats her sentiments. 

“So do I, my love. I wish you not to worry because I have saved enough to pay for your dowry. We shall be together soon, Misun. I...I love you and my world is not complete if you’re not in it.” 

Misun sits up straighter, looking at the man of her dreams with nothing else but fondness in her eyes. “I love you too, Yeongkwan. So much more than you will ever know.” 

The young man fishes for something in the small pouch tied to his  pants and brings out a ring. Misun looks at him expectantly, pursing her lips in anticipation. “Misun, my love, if you will allow me to do so, please accept this ring, one that I have crafted with my own hands, as a symbol of my unending love.” 

Ever so gently, Misun slips her hand onto Yeongkwan’s open palm, and as the latter inserts the ring, Misun suddenly stops him. “My dearest, it had just come to me...should mother see this on my fingers, she will have this discarded at once without question and I do not wish to lose something of such a sentimental value.” 

Yeongkwan nods, understanding her predicament, but the young man was always ready, always thinking thoroughly ahead before doing something. So with a smile, he pulls forth a string from the same pouch he’d taken the same ring from and shoots it through the ring. Warmth blossoms in Misun’s chest, tilting her head a little so her lover can tie the string around her neck. 

“I think I prefer the necklace better… after all, it’s the one closer to my heart.” Yeongkwan, in a sudden burst of emotion, takes his lover’s face in his palms and presses his lips to hers. He feels Misun freeze in her spot, and Yeongkwan quickly pulls away, profusely apologizing for his brazen behavior. 

All of a sudden, beside him, he hears the most delightful sound in the world: Misun’s laughter. She continues laughing even with Yeongkwan staring at her, hand on his forearm for support. “Oh, goodness. I am so sorry, Yeongkwan,” Misun says, wiping away the tears that welled in the corner of her eyes. 

“I just...it was...that was my first kiss.” 

Yeongkwan’s mouth falls open in shock, and shame. “That was you first kiss?! I mean, that was mine too...but your first kiss should have been more romantic unlike here, where...we’re just under the shade…” Yeongkwan stammers out a confession, only causing Misun to laugh harder. 

As the young man turns beet red at the sudden realization of his words, Misun coos at him, giving him a gentle pat on his shoulder. Shyly, she speaks up, “If you want...we could try again?” Yeongkwan doesn’t think twice about the offer, once more connecting their lips together. 

That same day, the couple had gone back to Misun’s house with Yeongkwan’s determination to present himself as a suitor and win over her parent’s hearts next. They pass through the plantation with a spring in their steps while the other servants who recognize Yeongkwan stare at the two whose obvious love for each other surpasses their judgmental looks. 

Misun’s family was enjoying lunch by the time they arrived at their destination, and at the sight of the pair with hands intertwined, the light mood inside the Min household quickly dissolves into thin air. Her father’s face falls when realization dawn on him, while her mother refuses to meet her own daughter’s eyes, disappointment hanging in her features. 

The Min patriarch exhales as he puts his silver chopsticks down and looks at the boy. “Yeongkwan, is it?” Min Mansoo asks, wiping the corners of his mouth with a cloth. “Yes, Master Min.” 

“Why don’t you sit and eat with us?” Mansoo offers, and Misun’s grip on Yeongkwan tightens. The sensation makes Yeongkwan hesitate, but he doesnt want to disappoint his future father-in-law by not following his orders. 

With one last reassuring look at Misun, he lets go of her hand and sits himself to a corner where Mansoo had pointed at. As soon as Yeongkwan settles down, Mansoo tells him to join their lunch, gesturing to the food. “How is your family Yeongkwan?” 

“I am thankful to our ancestors for keeping them well, Master Min.” Mansoo nods, never keeping his eyes off the young man as he places a spoonful of rice in his mouth. 

“Yeongkwan, son, if you dont mind…” Mansoo starts, staring at the young man, “...there are some things we would like to discuss as a family first....in private.” Yeongkwan quickly catches on, gently squeezing Misun’s hand in his before thanking the Min patriarch for letting him partake in their lunch and leaving afterwards. 

“Father,” Misun begins, but her father cuts her off quickly. “Don’t...just...I dont want to hear it Misun,” Mansoo replies, calming himself down. “How could you do this to your own family?” 

“Father,” the plantation heiress tries to call her father’s attention one more time, but it’s her mother who stops her from doing so this time, hand shooting over to grab her wrist as a warning signal. 

“I trusted you, Misun! I knew it in me that you would have good judgment, but you broke that promise just like that! All those years, all this time - you had been talking to that man?” 

“Yeongkwan is a good man, unlike the others who wish to court me,” Misun mumbles, not meeting her father’s eyes. Mansoo pounds his fist against the table, startling everyone present. 

“I don’t care if you think he is a good man or not, Misun! How can you assure yourself that it’s you he wishes to marry and not your wealth?” Misun’s lips start trembling, frightened at her father’s sudden outburst. “Do you not get the point here?! He is...he’s but a mere servant, Misun! Even if he had good intentions, life is difficult to come by! Will you have enough food to place on your table for each day? Will your children live comfortably just as you have? You cannot be with such a man! I forbid you to ever meet him again. In fact, I am forbidding you from even leaving the house without your mother. And that is final, Misun. Lunch is over. Nobody better bother me in my office.” 

Misun’s knuckles turn white with the grip she has on her skirt, fighting the tears that threaten to fall as she storms off to her own room. 

Just as Mansoo had ordered, Misun hadn’t stepped outside their house in a week. The girl had no intention to leave either, if she was to be accompanied by her mother at all times like a little child. The poor young lady cried day and night, restless and anxious about what the near future might hold, especially if the only man she’s ever loved might not be in it. 

Yeongkwan, likewise, was not doing any better, tense for hours on end. He had visited Misun for the entire week after meeting her family, yet he was only greeted by closed windows and the cold evening air. Tomorrow was the day he had been dreading ever since he’d fallen for Misun, and fears, maybe, just maybe, some things aren't just meant to be. 

It was finally the day of Misun’s choosing, and a feast had been prepared to celebrate such a ceremonious occasion. A glum Misun was assisted by two other servants during dawn in preparation for the days’ activities. The mood was heavy even for the other servants, as their usually bubbly Misun had lost her light and her beautiful smile. For the entire morning, Misun had greeted the guests with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. 

She was also afforded time to spend with each of her suitors - time she spent imagining Yeongkwan by her side and not these strangers. A voice beside her startles her from her preoccupied thoughts, “You should pick him,” the man supposedly her suitor speaks, leaning backwards as he leans his weight onto his arms. 

“Excuse me?” Misun asks, looking up from where she had been playing with the grass. “I think you should go for the man you truly love,” he says, gesturing to Yeongkwan staring at Misun from a distance. The oblivious Misun turns to look at who her suitor was pertaining to, yet finds no one. The stranger exhales, enjoying the breeze, “Marrying to maintain your status had always been pointless. Unless you really have no regard for your own emotions, then marriage is but a contract, and not a lifelong bond and commitment to another person.” 

“You think so too?” 

“I know so too,” the man winks at her, causing her to giggle - the closest she had been to being genuinely happy for the entire week. The kind stranger gives her a small, reassuring smile. “Go, I’ll cover for you.” 

Yeongkwan’s heart clenches when he sees Misun hug another man, defeatedly looking away. He mounts his horse, taking one last look at Misun’s house and wishing the love of his life a happy relationship with her betrothed. As Yeongkwan pulls on the reins, he hears hurried steps approaching him and a familiar voice calling his name. 

He looks back to see Misun running towards him, waving her arms to catch his attention. Quickly, he gets down from his horse and patiently waits for Misun to arrive. The wide grin on Misun’s face is unmissable, and Yeongkwan wonders if she truly had feelings for him in the first place, being able to smile like this even if this was possibly the last time he will see her. “I see you have already chosen a man to be your husband,” Yeongkwan states, keeping his voice as stable as he could. 

“I did,” Misun replies, eyes twinkling. 

“I guess this is goodbye then?” 

A fond smile graces Misun’s lips. “What kind of nonsense are you talking about?” Confusion takes over Yeongkwan's  features, “Wasn’t the man you were with earlier the one you chose to be with for the rest of your life?” 

“You might have missed something there. I think you mean, ‘it’s the man I am with now that I have chosen to be with for the rest of my life’.” Yeongkwan’s eyes widen when he processes Misun’s words. “What are you talking about?” 

“I choose you, Jeon Yeongkwan. I will always choose you.” The girl stands on her tiptoes and places a chaste kiss on his Yeongkwan’s lips, still slightly parted in shock. “Now, take me away, Yeongkwan, you have me.” The man wastes no time, getting back up on his horse first before helping Misun up the steed. 

It’s been a whole moon since the Jeon family had been first invited for dinner over at the royal palace and tonight, the king had sent another invite to have lunch with him tomorrow. At first, he had found the king’s favor towards his family a blessing, but now, everytime he sees the way the king looks at his family, it seems as if it was just an awful nightmare just waiting to come true. 

Misun notices the steely look on her husband’s face and rests her head against his shoulder. “Are you alright, my love?” Yeongkwan forces a smile onto his face, but Misun sees right through it. “Do you not wish to have lunch with the King tomorrow? Your decision is likewise mine.” 

Yeongkwan quickly shakes his head no, not wanting to overthink the whole thing. As soon he places a kiss on his wife’s forehead, Misun decides to drop the subject, but still worries for her husband. 

Just as Yeongkwan had expected, their visit wasn’t any better than the last. The bitterness was slowly seeping into him, so much that he’s greatly tempted to make an excuse to get back home at once. As he takes a sip from the samgyetang the palace cooks had prepared for them, he thinks about the king’s attempts to impress his family. 

Today, King Daesin had gone so far as to let the children play among the palace gardens and had granted his entire family access to wherever they may wish to roam around. The boys, beaming at the idea, finish their food heartily and as quickly as they could, before promptly asking the king if they could go ahead and play outside. Daesin, taking joy in their mutual enthusiasm, gets up and ushers the children and Misun outside. As if he’d almost forgotten Yeongkwan was also present, Daesin had also told him to come join his family. As if he needed any inviting. 

Yeongkwan trails behind the four of them quietly. As the King carries his two sons in both arms, they giggle excitedly, happily bouncing in King Daesin’s hold. Just as he exits the king’s private hanok, he comes face to face with the chief advisor, Park Joomin. 

“Ah, General Jeon!” the older man greets, bowing curtly. “Chief Advisor Park! You do know there is no need to address me by my previous title. It’s such a pleasure to see you again after so long. You seem well.” 

“I am,” Joomin nods, “I am grateful to our ancestors for guiding us throughout the war and giving us another life to live.” 

Yeongkwan averts his gaze from the chief advisor for a moment to watch his wife run along with their kids in tow, and the king running after them. The chief advisor follows his line of sight and confirms his suspicions. Joomin thought it wasn’t something one should spend time thinking about at first, but now as he sees the king almost transform into a completely different person. 

His informant told him of the Jeon family’s visits getting more frequent, so Joomin decided to stay close and watch their interactions from afar. Today though, his intuitions are leaning towards the affirmative and decides to confront the former general about it, in the hopes that his offer might just save the future of the southern city. 

Park Joomin leans closer and places a hand on Yeongkwan’s shoulder. “I hope you don't mind me being honest with you, Yeongkwan, because there is something I wish to address to you - from one friend to another.” 

Yeongkwan’s brows furrow slightly in suspicion. Sure, they’ve fought side by side during the war, but they never really had any interaction besides fighting their common enemies together. 

“I am all ears, advisor.” Park Joomin nods briefly, before signalling one of his men to leave the two alone. ‘Interesting,’ Yeongkwan thinks, staring out into the lush forest from a distance. 

“Yeongkwan, I know you’re a smart and noble man. Compassionate as well…” the chief advisor starts, placing a firm hand on the younger one’s shoulder. “...and I do not want to tarnish our friendship by saying this but I am unsure whether you are turning a blind eye to the truth or you are simply unaware of it.” Joomin leads them both to an elevated gazebo - one overlooking the palace garden where Yeongkwan’s sons are playing. 

The advisor allows Yeongkwan to settle on a seat before continuing, “Your wife is a lovely woman, she really is. But I fear, it is not only her husband who is wooed by her charms.” 

Yeongkwan gulps. There it is, the truth that Yeongkwan still refuses to believe yet will inevitably have to cope with sooner or later. Today was the day the reality of it all had hit him the hardest. Park Joomin takes Yeongkwan’s silence as his cognizance on the matter. 

“I could not possibly fathom what you must be going through right now.” Joomin throws him an apologetic look. 

‘Of course you don’t,’ the Jeon patriarch answers in his head, ‘Not everyone has their wives catching the king’s attention and their own sons getting closer to the monarch, who was still practically a stranger.’

“I am sorry if this conversation makes your heart ache, but besides being your friend, I also have a duty to our King, and to our nation. Thus, I will no longer have to mollify my words. Our city needs an heir to strengthen the throne. We might have won the war against the colonizers, yet this had only fueled traitors who wish to turn against their own cities. The Great Colonization had only made us realize how weak the bond is between the government and our citizens - how easy it would be to penetrate our land from the inside, just like that.” 

“We need to strengthen our city’s foundation, Yeongkwan. And...and I think your wife just might be the solution.” Yeongkwan averts his gaze from the chief advisor when he sees the latter glance at him. Joomin finds having to explain the further details of the resolution unnecessary, deeming Yeongkwan already knowing of what dilemma he is to face. 

[taglist] : @aretha170 @strxwberri-milk @vivpurple7 @wheredoiwhaaat25 @hodginss   @btsxdoll​

© joontier 2020

[spartanguard]

even death won’t part us now (1/?)

Summary: Two covens, both alike in dignity, / In fair New York, where we lay our scene, / From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, / Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes / A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; / Whole misadventured piteous overthrows / Do with their death bury their sires' strife. (Captain Swan + West Side Story + vampires. But not as sad. Probably.)

rated M | AO3 | 1.2k words

A/N: So this story has been in the works for quite some time and been through numerous variations. I was originally going to do it for @cssns last year, but couldn’t get it to work. When things got going for this year’s event, @kmomof4 asked if I’d give it another shot and...it clicked this time! It’s been fun to work on (and see how many Hamilton references I can squeeze in). Hopefully you all enjoy it!

thank you to @thesschesthair for that GORGEOUSSS banner!! she’s made some incredible pieces for this and I can’t wait for you all to see them! and thank you to the best beta ever @optomisticgirl for looking this over!

for your listening pleasure

part one—overture

There's a lot of romanticizing when it comes to vampires. The eternal youth, the perfect looks and body, the heightened senses—all are excellent perks. 

But no one mentions the absolute mania when a vampire is new. Suddenly, everything is brighter, sharper, clearer, louder, smellier, more detailed than before, and it's a sensory overload—it's impossible to hear your own racing thoughts over the cacophony of everything else. 

So you try to run, but that's a whole other revelation—where to run when you never tire? When adrenaline is pumping so hard that it would probably be easy to scale a skyscraper? (At least it would be quiet up there, right?) And when your new instincts are telling you to find people—to find food—but the thought of being near all those scents and sounds is enough to turn your stomach and make you lose your last meal as a human. 

(Except you already did that—when you somehow managed to fight back against the asshole who turned you and accidentally shoved him into the jagged point of the wood that used to be your dresser and watched him bleed out in front of you until nothing was left but gore and dust.)

Which brings you back to running, but it doesn’t take you far—not until you’re crashing into a pair of arms that are far too strong (inhumanly so) and are somehow connected to a pair of unnaturally blue eyes that you briefly drown in so deep that nothing else about this individual registers. And the whole thing is so surreal you wonder if it’s even real, or just a mania-induced hallucination.

Regardless, you somehow end up at the doorstep of who might be the nicest people who have ever walked the earth (and they’ve walked it for quite a while, and people probably isn’t the best description, not anymore) and memories of your ocean-eyed savior get pushed to the back of your mind. Because, in case you hadn’t figured it out yet, this couple confirms what your wildest thoughts were telling you:

You’re a vampire now.

Welcome to eternity.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

2005

Killian Jones let out a completely unnecessary sigh as he watched the door close behind the fledgling. Honestly, he was lucky he got there when he did; any later, and the newbie would have likely gone full mad, risking not only the safety of any mortals nearby, but also exposure of their world. 

That, and Gold probably would have killed him. For real this time. (It had been threatened often enough that it was likely empty, but after nearly 250 years, Killian knew what the beast was capable of—what had put him in this position in the first place—and therefore knew not to write off the possibility completely.)

It had been a fairly routine assignment: take out Walsh, one of the most conniving members of the Coroza coven with a penchant for turning his mortal girlfriends, and take out said girlfriend if he had turned her.

Killian hadn’t managed to get there in time to prevent the transition—Walsh’s paramour, one Emma Swan, apparently didn’t want to be found—and by the time he’d arrived on the scene, the freshly-turned vampire had already managed to kill the idiot, but was in shock.

He caught her in the alley behind the apartment building; despite their hysteria, new vampires are relatively weak compared to elder statesmen like him, so it wasn’t hard to subdue her.

And he should have ended her right there. He had a blade on him; it would have been incredibly easy to put it through her heart and let her wither away.

But there was something in those bright green eyes of hers—something behind the fear and anger and madness—that made him stop. It was familiar, but like a long ago memory; he couldn’t place it, but it was enough for him to second guess her elimination.

He couldn’t bring her back to Aurum, though. He’d spent too many years working his ways up the ladder to be accused of succumbing to a pretty face and disobeying direct orders from Gold. If he could hide her, though…

He knew a couple from Coroza who lived not far away. Despite being on different sides of this rivalry, he knew them to be respectable, and wouldn’t turn away a new vampire in need of some stability.

It was hard to tell if Emma was aware of it, but he quickly scooped her up and ran the few blocks to the Nolan’s Hell’s Kitchen townhouse, depositing the girl on the front stoop, buzzing the doorbell, then dashing off across the street as fast as possible (the blink of an eye to the average mortal). He was deep in the shadows of an alley when he saw the door open, Emma guided in, and then both the door and the case were closed. 

Which only left one thing: what to tell Gold. Outright lying wouldn’t work; but perhaps a white one would cover it. 

That was what he went with when he returned to the man’s penthouse in Chelsea. “It’s all taken care of, Mr. Gold,” he’d assured his boss—a rather reptilian man he’d long ago started referring to as “Crocodile” in his head and had somehow managed not to slip in the ensuing centuries. 

“Fantastic; always good to hear, Mr. Jones,” Gold said, rising from his throne-like chair in his office. “I know that it’s a bit soon, but I do have another assignment for you, if you’re amenable,” he continued. (It was a bit sadistic for Gold to act as if Killian had any choice in the matter; it was nigh impossible to go against an order from your sire, though Killian had long ago figured out how to work the system—and Gold’s typical vagueness—in his favor; this order might be too direct for that, though.) “It’s in England, and I want you to go tend to some business of mine. It might take a while. I don’t trust anyone else to handle this; please go and be my representation.”

“Of course, sir,” he answered respectfully, having figured out how to hide the resentment in his voice many decades ago.

“Splendid. I’ll see to it that your affairs here are tended to in the meantime. Enjoy your trip.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Not an hour later, he was at LaGuardia (because apparently Gold was too much a cheapskate to pay for him to fly direct out of JFK), in line with luggage, passport, prosthetic hand, and one-way ticket to London. One perk to never sleeping was that taking a red-eye flight didn’t affect him much; but that didn’t make getting through security any less painful—thus, the false hand rather than his preferred hook. (Also annoying: having a layover in Chicago—in the opposite direction, seriously; he should have paid himself.)

He at least let himself zone out once they were off the ground at O’Hare; he didn’t actually sleep but he could at least rest. 

He let the sounds of the plane lull him into something of a hypnotic state, but one thing persisted in his mind’s eye: those green eyes, and whatever it was that sucked him in. 

(They would do that often over the next several years.)

It wasn’t until he was lumbering up the jetway at Heathrow that he realized what it was: the look one got after being left alone. It’d been years since he’d seen it, but it used to stare back at him in his own reflection. (Which, as the polished metal of the luggage carousel reminded him, he hadn’t seen in centuries.)

Hopefully, she wouldn’t have that anymore. Too bad he couldn’t (ever) say the same.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading! short intro, but longer chapters from here. tagging some peeps (let me know if you want on/off the list!)  @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @sherlockianwhovian @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @snowbellewells​ @idristardis​ @scientificapricot​ @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook​