#don’t be shy king. adjust the angle.

[lil-oreo-crumbles]

can you discuss the relationship between Toffee and Seth

Absolutely!! I’d be happy to!!

Normally, I see Toffee and Seth being depicted with a relatively positive relationship. However, I don’t and have never really seen it that way.

The full story is under the cut, but the TL;DR is this: Toffee does not like Seth hardly at all. Seth sees Toffee as his own son and loves him to death, but Toffee cannot stand being “fathered” by him. As far as Toffee knows, he never had a father and Seth was DEFINITELY not his father, and gets so upset when Seth refers to him as “son”.

Despite Toffee not being able to stand him, he can and does acknowledge his great diplomacy skills and that he is the best leader for Septarsis. His beef is a lot more personal. He will admit with no hesitation that Seth would have made a great ruler for Monsterkind and is personally angered and offended just like everyone else about Crescenta’s smear campaign.

Toffee also unknowingly bought into a lot of his ideals over the course of his life, he just adjusted his angle and took different actions into trying to solve the same problem.

It’s a mix of frustration yet begrudging respect for him as the man who took him in after his mother’s death on Toffee’s end. On Seth’s end, it’s praise, adoration, and a very fatherly view he has on Toffee, despite how pissed he gets at a lot of Toffee’s actions over the course of his life (i.e., Comet and his whole embarrassing “Bad Boy” phase).

-

AU Story:

For some context, I may need to explain Seth and his relationship with Toffee’s mother in my AU, Mylanie Ambrose of Septarsis, because that’s where their rocky relationship really stems from.

When Seth took his rightful place as the Supreme Lord of Septarsis (he hates the term King), he completely tore apart the system the previous (very corrupt) ruler (who brought Septarsis into its dark age) had been using for the two-hundred or so years he was in charge, and replaced it with his own system. Part of that system involves a rotating legislation of representatives (a council of sorts) every fifty or so years (can vary and there are exceptions). The Septarians would get restless with the same person in power for the centuries they live, so Seth ensures that there are new faces and new voices. No matter how good of a Supreme Lord or beloved by the people be is, he will never put just himself or his sister Zarina in charge of decision making.

With that said, Mylanie, a dreamer who strongly believes in a future of peace and harmony with Mewmankind in the future, joins the council. She is incredibly passionate and a very loud advocate for peace, catching Seth’s attention. The two form a friendship outside of politics and get along, but they are fiercely on opposite sides when it pertains to the Mewman problem. Mylanie wants to make peace with a future queen while Seth thinks war is one of their only possibilities. Zarina is the awkward middleman trying to find a truce between their fiercely opposed sides.

Seth is decidedly a gay man, but because he’s so deep in denial and closeted he mistakes the thrill and passion he gets from debating her as… romantic feelings (whoops) and starts offering his hand to make her the Lady of Septarsis. She always refuses.

Then Mylanie has Toffee. (His real name is Torrence but I’m gonna call him Toffee for simplicity)

So, essentially, Toffee’s exposure to Seth for his entire early life is through the eyes of his mother and the debates she has with him. He kind of sits back and watches the two of them go at it.

Seth is a lot more of a brute who values a good soldier at this point so he (playfully) critiques Mylanie for not teaching her son any defense skills or anything to do with fighting and instead just lets him “read books and frolic all the time”. He also jokingly teases her for how “girly” Toffee looks/acts (the long hair with flowers/flower crowns and his general soft/shy demeanor). Toffee, despite his young age, is very aware of all of this, along with the courting issue Seth still brings up every once in a while. He can get really protective of her.

But Seth absolutely tried to bond with him… and he considers trying to teach him how to fight “bonding”. Toffee’s not really into the whole war (he IS raised by his mother after all) and doesn’t really reciprocate.

When the Solaria’s situation happens and Mylanie passes away, Toffee is taken in by Seth and Zarina permanently. Seth really steps up and makes an effort to form a bond with Toffee, but he’s grieving really bad and Seth trying to make nice really hits him the wrong way.

While Toffee is friends with Eclipsa, Seth eventually finds out and discourages him from spending anymore time with her, but Toffee refuses to listen to him and still spends time with the princess regardless. He sees Seth as trying to take away the one thing he still has in this world. Seth tries to insist that the Mewmans and the world they’ve created are dark, selfish, and cruel, and Eclipsa is no different. Toffee fights with him on this, but it isn’t until the two friends have their tragic fallout that Toffee admits that Seth was right about Eclipsa and he should have listened to him.

Regardless of Seth being “proven right”, this still doesn’t make Toffee like him. During his bad boy teenage years he’s blatantly disrespectful, haughty, and an overall pain for Seth and Zarina to deal with. However, this is actually when Toffee starts to buy into Seth’s ideals. Toffee is unaware of just how much he’s starting to agree with Seth about his stances on Mewmanity, but his specific issue is on the magic they use. (If you ask him at this stage about it he’ll tell you you’re insane for the suggestion alone.)

Despite his bad attitude, Toffee’s natural talent in leadership and combat causes Seth to favor him a lot. Toffee rises the ranks quickly and becomes increasingly popular amongst the troops and the army. Toffee actually (begrudgingly) accepts advice and one on one training from Seth, which adds to his skill set.

But what Toffee HATES is how much Seth starts “fathering” him. Seth refers to Toffee as his son, and Toffee has to keep reminding him that he is decidedly NOT his son and NEVER will be, no matter how much Seth wants to think so. This ties back to Toffee’s lingering frustration over the whole “courting” he used to attempt with his mother.

When Toffee takes a break from the army to focus on studying Mewmans, magic, and their history, (and calming down and getting out of his weird bad boy phase in the process) Seth begs him to rejoin all of the time. He knows Toffee as a great military leader but Toffee spends most of his time curled up in his room reading into the night (✨insomnia✨) or breaking into Butterfly Castle to borrow more books. They hardly interact during this time.

After his time as a historian, Toffee is compelled to rejoin the army/war effort and moves up the ranks to eventually become the general we know he as. When the invitation comes for Comet’s banquet, Seth decidedly doesn’t want to attend. Toffee overhears and volunteers to go in his place. Seth has one rule: No harm is to come to the queen.

This is where I get to the point where he blatantly disrespects Seth’s instructions: He kills Comet. While decidedly NOT a primary or even important reason why he did it, a small very tiny microscopic part of Toffee did it specifically because Seth told him not to, and Toffee thinks he can handle things on his own.

Well… when Toffee returns to Septarsis humiliated with a missing finger, Seth. Is. Pissed. He KNEW this would do nothing but blow up in their faces and refuses to hear any of Toffee’s rationale for doing it, no matter how valid. He scolds Toffee harsher than he ever has before and blows up at him for this. By the end of the argument, Toffee is sick of and through with Seth and right then and there vows to leave Septarsis and never come back. Toffee does just that.

And… yeah. To be very frank, the relationship very complicated. Toffee can hardly stand him, but also Seth is probably one of his biggest influences at the same time. Toffee respects him as a leader of their civilization and as a diplomat, but has been known to forge his own path and blatantly disrespect his orders if Toffee deems his own ideas better (not ALL of them, Comet is the one notable instance of this). They both want monsters to be vindicated for all of the suffering they’ve been put through, but Seth sees Mewmans as the problem while Toffee sees magic as the problem.

I don’t know if this post fully encapsulates the true dynamic. This is an example of me trying to explain a dynamic that would be much better when I eventually show it… not sure if any post could ever do the story justice… but oh well.

But yeah I suggest keeping in tune. This is the rundown of their dynamic but it’ll be better when they actually interact in the AU itself 🤞

[hanazuma-inactive]

Hi, I love your writings ❤. I really enjoy reading them.

Um, can I request Oikawa Tooru with virgin!reader who is (sub, bottom); (praise kink, but doesn't know he has and kinda shy when he knows it); (has shy, soft, and really submissive personality) (3rd year student) ? Reader with Oikawa is a couple of lover, and a roommate. They usually do some cuddles in their bedroom that always started with Oikawa teasing the reader. One day, when cuddling, Oikawa asked reader if he wants to do something more intimate than cuddling and really feels good.

Sorry if that is too much. Thank you

king and his prince, (nsfw) oikawa x bottom!reader

pronouns: he/him (FEMALE ORIENTED DNI!!)

warnings: creampie, praise kink! flirty oikawa

a/n: oikawa is probs my least favorite character in haikyuu, im pretty sure i hated him at one point cuz of his personality. i later found out from many website i am unfortunately a oikawa kinnie (even tho i dont really think so but idk) explains all the self hatred lmao, again for the anon that requested it im sorry for the bad quality cuz i stayed up to write this at 6 am so undoubtedly there will be some mistakes

:(

_____

"y/n, my dear prince~ doesn't it feel good like this?"

"t-tooru…it feels good, i-it really does!" you said, messy hair and looking directly at your boyfriend.

"you look so beautiful when you enjoy it, keep up that pretty face won't you?"

oikawa tooru was too popular for your comfort at school. everyone liked him and they all had a good reason to, and that doesn't make you any different. you were shy and didn't catch a lot of attention so you were incredibly surprised that someone as popular as oikawa even wanted to talk to you.

you were smart and in fact smart enough to compete with oikawa. in fact the first time you caught his attention was when you corrected an answer, making him embarrassed in front of the class. he wanted to "settle this" only to find you harmless. later on he talked to you more and more. the contrast of personality of you two complimented each other pretty well. a cocky bastard who doesn't know how to shut up and a shy boy who likes to listen. inevitably the two of you grew closer as friends, so much to a point where you moved into the same apartment unit.

you didn't mind getting closer to oikawa, emotionally or physically with him being your crush and all so this was pretty much what you wanted, you just didn't think he would be the one to offer instead. being enclosed in a space together made oikawa get a lot more comfortable with you. random hugs here and there, maybe a little head pat, and sometimes leaning on each other's shoulders. it was practically a dream come true and you didn't think this could possibly get better until the man pulled something else out his sleeves.

one day you fell asleep watching the tv in the living room. the weather was a little chilly so falling asleep without a blanket near you wasn't the best idea. oikawa came home to find you shivering in your sleep so of course like the genius he is, he didn't decide to throw a blanket or carry you back into your bedroom and instead cuddled with you on the couch, leaving you wrapped around his arms basically unable to move when you woke up.

both of you would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it. therefore, this whole cuddling session became a regular thing between you two. oikawa being the big spoon and you being the small one. it went on for a while until both of you realized this might not have been the most normal thing that "friends" did. at this point you're pretty sure oikawa had feelings for you, or else he wouldn't have done a lot of the things he has. after a lot of urging from his friends, he finally decided to confess to you. despite him being the playboy he is, he was quite nervous this time, due to the fact that he had to say it to someone he actually has feelings for. so just like that, the relationship between you two finally became official.

another day you guys during your normal cuddling session, oikawa proposed an interesting idea, and to be honest you saw this coming.

"babeeeee, why don't we try something more interesting this time~?" oikawa said, staring at you with his arms around you.

you knew exactly what oikawa meant, you weren't stupid, but you know that he likes it when you act all innocent so you decided to do just that.

"hm? what do you mean tooru-kun? i don't think i understand?"

"oh…baby boy i know you know what i mean alright~" just as he said that the brown haired man grabbed you in for a kiss.

your tongues started to intertwine immediately. this was very much oikawa's style, aggressive and dominant, but soft and caring when he wanted to. the kiss was generally messy but you could tell that oikawa was putting effort into this with all his tiny and intricate movements. a string of saliva connected you after he broke the kiss. leaving you panting and gasping for air while he's on the other side with a sly grin.

"you ready for the next part now?"

"t-there's more ah-!" you gasped as your boyfriend pulled down your pants at once, leaving your hard cock to bounce out.

"of course there is~ we have to tend to this guy don't we?" he said, holding your dick and positioning himself to suck your dick.

yet again attacked by oikawa's mouth you just couldn't keep it for long anymore. it's like his mouth is heaven made or something and it will continue to turn you on and make you cum without fail.

"a-ah! tooru..i'm gonna cum! mmghm!" you said, shooting all your load straight into your boyfriend's mouth, which of course he gladly swallowed right after.

"t-that's it right? i don't think i'll be able to handle more, you know…" you said out of both fear and excitement.

however all you got in response was a smirk from oikawa as he slid off his shirt to reveal his perfectly toned abs.

"almost done, pretty boy."

something about that word, made your half flaccid cock immediately rise up and become as hard as your boyfriends again.

"heh? what a strange reaction, could this mean…" oikawa leaned in closer, enough so that all the hair near your ears would stand up and said,

"my prince likes to be praised?"

you've heard about this so-called praise kink before but didn't exactly think you'd be into it this much. your face turned redder than they already are and you just wanted to cover your face and run away.

"aw, c'mon, it's cute! and if you like it-' oikawa said, spreading your legs open, exposing your asshole and angling his cock head to the entrance of it.

"i might just praise you a little more than usual, hm?"

your boyfriend was hot but this was undoubtedly the most attractive he's ever been. towered over you whispering praises in your ear as he prepared you with his fingers for something bigger that's about to come next. without a warning oikawa began to inch his way into your ass, moving and adjusting his cock to fit your tight asshole.

"you're taking me so well baby...keep doing just that alright? i know you're so good for me aren't you?" oikawa said, leaning closer at you.

at a loss for words due to how flustered you are, you could only give your boyfriend a little nod and covered your face with your arms while flashing a little red on your cheeks once again.

"y/n, my dear prince~ doesn't it feel good like this?"

"t-tooru…it feels good, i-it really does!" you said, messy hair and looking directly at your boyfriend.

"you look so beautiful when you enjoy it, keep up that pretty face won't you?"

the praises that he showered you with were too much. you were already so sensitive since it was your first time and all. now with all these lustful words turning you on, you couldn't hold it in anymore and came onto your stomach while your boyfriend continued to make slow but deep thrusts onto your prostate.

your head was still a little fuzzy but you could still feel your boyfriend jerking his hips faster and faster, ending with a long thrusts at the end which wasn't hard to assume that your boyfriend came inside you, just like how you wanted it. before passing out from bliss, a hand cupped your cheek followed with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"you did so well baby…i know you're tired so rest now, i'll be here alright."

you couldn't be more happy, with such a loving and caring boyfriend. that being said, you fell into his arms once again and slipped into your dreams even thought they have already become reality.

[twstoric]

my all (for you)

𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒚𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒅: uh hi, can i request leona x gn!reader x malleus, with both of them "fighting" over reader's attention as they have sex? maybe a bit of breeding kink as well? >///<

𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: leona kingscholar x gn!reader x malleus draconia 

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: it’s a dangerous game you’re playingーnot only with competitive beasts but also ones driven to stake their claim over you

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘(𝕤): rough sex, possessive behaviour, intentions of breeding, biting/marking, powerful beings acting not so powerful ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2.2k

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: i’m crying i’m supposed to be resting but my brain was like “wehh” and i survived on high sugar to get this done smoothly but-! please enjoy, loves!!

ﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌ

“Mh- lheー” you bite your tongue harshly, breath stuttering in your throat as you stare at your legs, unmoving as if you were paralyzed. You fucked up- or at least you almost did but it’s a futile wish to hope that your minor slip up wouldn’t go unnoticed. Trapped in between two beasts, every word that comes out of your mouth is carefully analyzed; figuring when you’ll scream the name they want to hear. 

Leona breathes a small chuckle, yanking your legs closer to the edge of the bed where he’s kneeling close to. “So quiet suddenly, herbivore? Come on, you can scream my name all you want,” he kisses the inside of your thighs, lips pressing fire against your skin as the brunet settles both your legs over his shoulders; not allowing you to hide anything.

“Hm? I believe the name that was uttered was mine.” Malleus tugs you closer to him, almost pulling you entirely away from the other dorm head if Leona hadn’t been gripping you so tightly. The dark fae settles behind you, holding you up and pressing his torso against your back. His lips trail invisible lines over the expense of your neck, fingers teasing the skin under your shirt as he rides the material up over your chest. “Don’t be shy now, dear. Say my name louder.”

Your face flushes, closing your eyes as if trying to block them out. There’s a building heat in your stomach, coaxed and played around with by the two dorm heads but the problem isn’t that the pleasure they give you can be overwhelming—it’s more as though the silent competition they’ve played when it comes to you is starting to drive you a little insane. 

Whenever Leona would bring you to completion with the slow drag of his tongue against your sensitive nerves is ripped away when Malleus pulls you far away from the Savanna prince and monopolizes your lips with a deep kiss; shoving his tongue down your throat and tasting every inch of your mouth.

Similarly, whenever Malleus pours ecstasy into your mind with the soft curls of his fingers against your good spots, mouthing kisses against the skin of your neck, Leona shoves him away, grabbing you by the wrist and trapping you under him away from the Prince of Thorns and makes it a point to bite deep markings into your neck; the clear indication of his claim on you. 

The cycle repeats for too long and too often that whenever you touch near the height of completion, you’re not surprised that it’ll be ripped away from you soon enough. Children, honestly. You’re dealing with children. 

“Please just- d- do something quick,” you huff, closing your thighs between Leona’s head and tugging at Malleus’ hair to coax him near your mouth. If you don’t come soon, you’ll definitely go insane—in a sense, anyway. But you will rip their heads out. Princes of a country or not, they’ll feel your wrath-

A small gasp leaves your throat, suddenly ripped away from your inner turmoil seems to amplify the shock of being fingered. Leona’s hand drags against your walls in an easy motion, the map of your insides printed inside of his head and he knows just how to push all your buttons. 

You don’t get to focus on the King of Beasts when Malleus' hand settles on your neck, sliding up to cup your jaw and turning your head around to crash his lips to yours. His other hand snakes around to your front, scratching at your skin with his nails lightly until he settles over the hard bud of your nipple. 

The Dark Prince holds your jaw with careful fingers, turning you around to watch Leona who’s already lapping at your greedy hole like a hungry man. He alternates between biting your inner thigh and fucking your insides with his tongue and fingers.

“I have a proposal for you,” Malleus whispers, voice deep with desire and echoing in your mind. He licks the skin behind your ear and you moan at the perfect stimulation to your ears and the curl of Leona’s fingers. “Shall we see who can bring you the most pleasure..?” There’s something mischievous glinting in the bright green of Melleus’ eyes. His smirk is wide and handsome, perfectly shaped lips curled in a way like an impish child. 

Your breath grows heavier, impossibly turned on by the proposal and it takes a small nod of your head before Malleus rips you away from Leona. The latter growls in warning, tearing the bed sheets when his fingers take hold of them. “What the fuck are you doing?” He spits out, following after you and narrowing his eyes dangerously. When Leona’s fingers curl around your ankle, he visibly relaxes—as if touching you momentarily satiates his anger. 

Malleus hugs you to him like a prized doll, chin placed on your shoulder and staring back at Leona head on. “Should you be able to bring pleasure to this beautiful body,” the ravenhead starts, spreading your legs apart and Leona’s eyes trail down at the way you’re presented to him. “Then I admit defeat. You are most suited for my beloved.” Malleus sighs in mock sadness; nuzzling close to you before his smirk returns. “But should I emerge victorious…” he smiles, not needing to finish. 

The bet is easily agreed to without acknowledgment. When the prize is you, then there’s no need for hesitation. 

You’re transferred to Leona’s arms easily, lips instantly captured in a bruising kiss. The brunet pushes you down (you didn’t notice Malleus had already moved away), finally getting rid of the shirt you’re wearing and laying you bare. “If we’re talking about the one who can pleasure you, then it’s definitely me,” Leona growls, flipping you around and pulling your hips flush against his.

Your hands latch onto the bed sheets in anticipation, not having to wait long as Leona eases in easily, the smooth drag of his cock filling you to the brim. You’re moaning loudly, hips held up by Leona’s hands as he savors the way you greedily clench around him. “That’s it,” he encourages, rolling his hips until he’s flush against you and drawing out a moan from the both of you. 

He murmurs something you can’t hear but everything blanks when the brunet pulls out slowly, veins dragging against your walls deliciously and snap back in with a force that makes you collapse. Leona doesn’t mind the way you’re unable to stay up, only clutching at your hips and dragging you back so each thrust meets with a loud smack. 

You’re cruising loudly, frantically searching for something to hold onto before dark-painted nails come into your view and Malleus is intertwining your fingers together. He pulls you upright, settling you over his lap and holding you like you’re a precious child. The way he holds is so contrasting to the bruising grip of your hips that it distracts your mind a little.

That is, before Leona hits that sensitive bundle of nerves and you’re gasping helplessly, falling into Malleus’ lap with each abuse of Leona’s cock against that spot inside. You faintly hear the small chuckle Leona let’s out, his grip adjusting on your hips and angling his thrust to make your brain melt.

Malleus holds your face gently, brushing the sides of your face and coaxing you closer to his cock. Your mouth suddenly feels so empty, drooling at the hard display of the ravenhead’s cock; already calling for your attention. 

Malleus doesn’t tell you to do anything, hands busy tracing the shape of your features and you can see the adoring stare he gives you without having to look. Almost shyly, your tongue traces the underside of his cock, soft moans leaving your mouth when you can feel Malleus shudder. It encourages you to go further, kissing his head lightly before welcoming him into your mouth.

Your body feels like it’s burning. The obscene thought of how you might look—taking two large cocks of perhaps the two most notorious dorm leader’s in NRC. Your mouth sucking and worshipping every rigid vein of the future King of The Valley of Thorns and your hole greedily taking every inch of cock from the Prince of Afterglow Savanna; not only are you taking the cocks of royal lineage but they’re so determined to drown you in pleasure.

The loud smacks of Leona’s pelvis against your ass rings loudly in your ears. His cock stuffs you full—stretching you wide and pumping euphoria with each vigorous thrust. Leona growls dirty words behind you, his voice floating deep in your head with each thrust of his hips.

The room is filled with the smell of sex and the wet sound your mouth makes with every suction on Malleus’ cock; impossibly large and your jaw aches from the sheer size. Stopping seems impossible for you—despite the ache, you’re kissing and tracing every inch of the dick in your mouth, Malleus cooing and praising you for taking him so well.

The two dorm leaders seem to be nearing their limit, evident in the way Leona’s thrusts slows and switches to a more impactful force and the way Malleus’ fingers tighten just the slightest bit on your head, hips bucking up into your mouth. 

Feeling the building coil in your stomach, your hips buck back onto Leona’s whilst your hands massages Malleus’ balls. The two groan loudly, pressing deeper into you and the warm gush of their cum emptied into you makes you reach climax with a loud moan, body convulsing into sensitive twitches. 

It’s after a few moments where you bask in the afterglow that Malleus is the first to pull away; gently maneuvering your head into a more comfortable position and pushing his cum back in your mouth with his thumb. “You did wonderful, my love,” he praises, petting your face and kissing your lips languidly. 

Leona stays buried deep inside you, making sure his come isn’t wasted but he’s collapsed over you and is essentially crushing you. “Leonaa,” you whine, hissing at the way his cock shifts inside you. You’re too sensitive for this. “Get off. You’re heavy.”

The brunet grunts in response, turning around and you yelp when instead of pulling out, Leona settles on dragging you along with him. You’re on top of him in this position; his cock stays plugged inside your hole and you splutter when Leona grabs the back of your knees and spreads your legs apart. 

“Don’t think it’s over yet,” you visibly freeze at his words, the lion smirking in response. “Competitions are really troublesome…How about we just see who’s child you’ll have? There’s a saying where a true man’s strength can be measured by who’s able to knock up their mate.” 

You feel like punching things and screaming what an absurd saying that is and that you doubt the legitimacy of such a saying but you feel a new pair of hands settling on your knees.

Malleus crawls in front of you, a smile on his lips much too amused to be considered kind and you gape at him when his fingers trail over your stomach. 

“I’ve been told that the superior seed will most definitely be able to impregnate a beloved,” his voice grows thicker, face inching closer to yours. You feel Leona mouthing the skin on your neck, fang scrapping lightly in a teasing manner. Malleus slots his mouth against yours, his equally sharp fangs teasing the skin of your bottom lip. When he pulls away, all you can do is blink hazily at his words, “Shall we find out?”

You feel the faint twitch of Leona’s cock inside you, Malleus already teasing your stuffed hole with the tip of his. “I- I don’t think- that- that.. I don’t I can..” The air in your lungs dissipates until it grows harder to breathe, mind numbing with too much thought and too little at the same time. 

Before you can further suffocate yourself in your own thoughts, Leona sits up. His hands stay secured under your legs and keep your spread apart. Your vision is suddenly only filled with the way Malleus is smiling gently at you, hands coming up to gently smooth over your cheeks to ease your worries. You feel Leona give you comforting kisses on your neck and shoulder, easing the tense muscles and coaxing you to relax. 

The gentle ministrations over your body makes you loosen up and Malleus draws your attention back to him when he holds your face. “Then… one at a time, hm?”

Leona laughs at that, marking your neck once again and giving you a shallow thrust, his cock feeling much bigger than it did before somehow. 

Your eyes widen in alarm, mouthing some words that don’t come out of your mouth. Malleus laughs softly, gliding a finger down your jaw and under your chin to level your eyes with his. Green emeralds seem to glow dimly; mischief stretching over his lips. His hand settles over your stomach and you moan softly when he applies soft pressure, emphasising the size of the cock inside you. 

“You may think it would be difficult to.. conceive but,” he kisses your lips, whispering against your skin as if revealing a secret; “In a land filled with creatures of magic… Anything is possible.” 

[mikasaluna]

a certain scientific railgun smut hcs

⚠ WARNINGS：nsfw ! smut !

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED IMMEDIATELY

「 Keep in mind your triggers and do not engage if it will provoke negative emotions. You are responsible for your own actions. 」

♥️

notes：gender neutral pronouns, AFAB character, fluff, adult characters, set after graduation

A Certain Scientific Railgun /とある科学の 超電磁砲

Accelerator　アクセレレーター

- needs to be in control at all times

- he’s not gonna let you on top so don’t even ask

- baby boy just wants to make you feel good <3 

- not that he will ever admit that to you

- holds you roughly by the hips and grinds you down on his thigh while you’re making out

- loves watching you being pleasured, and hearing your sweet moans

- “what a desperate little slut, getting off just from my thigh like that”

- the little shit immediately pushes you back onto the bed just as you’re about to finish, leaving you wriggling and whining beneath him

- his soft white hair tickles your stomach as he pushes his face between your thighs 

- really, really good with his tongue

- you were already so close, cumming embarrasingly fast as he sucks harshly on your clit

- rubs your sides mindlessly as he settles himself back on top of you, inspecting your already fucked out face

- you can feel his hard bulge through his pants pressed against your naked, wet cunt

- is super blunt about it

- “let me fuck you”

- “of course you’re letting me you filthy fucking whore”

- “I bet you love having your stupid slut cunt filled up, huh?”

- starts gentle and deep

- but soon enough he will flip you over and pound you into the matress like you’re his own personal little fuck doll

- when he’s about to finish he will push his face into the crook of your neck where you can hear his breathing falter, and feel his hot breath in your ear

- ...he bites

- you have to stop him after the third round, worried you wouldn’t be able to walk the next morning

- plot twist: you couldn’t walk for the next two days

Kongou Mitsuko 婚后光子

- will try her best to act confident and self assured

- but quickly becomes a stuttering, blushing mess

- doesn’t mind showing off her body to you, she just wants to turn you on as much as you do to her

- asks you to please give her hickeys; on her neck, collarbone, breasts, and especially the insides of her thighs

- maybe give her a hickey on her clit too

- attempts to deny it, but she loves when you top her, and maybe even when you’re a little rough too

- “me, kongou mitsuko!? of course i am not a sub or anything...”

- it’s pretty obvious that isn’t true once you’re finger fucking her into the bed while she’s moaning and babbling out incomprehensible strings of words

- if she gets too loud you might have to be a bit more forceful and put your hand around her throat, but somehow this only makes her louder??

- “please, more there~”

- “h-harder, faster, please don’t stop”

- when you smack her thigh as a warning, you can hear her bite back a moan

- she won’t stop wriggling so you have to hold her thighs tightly, while you put your face between her legs

- the way her face scrunches up as you flick your tongue on her clit is absolutely adorable

- poor baby’s words get all scrambled until all she can do is pant and moan at how good you’re making her feel

- her legs start shaking when she comes undone on your tongue, wrapping her thighs around your head and grinding up into your face

- which she immediately regrets

- “I-I’m sorry for cumming before you said it’s okay”

- “I know I’ve been a bad girl”

- as her punishment, you sit on her face and make her eat you out :)

- she tries her best to make it up to you, holding her tongue out for you to use

- part of you thinks she enjoys this even more than you do

- the way her tongue rubs against your clit has you rocking your hips desperately into her face

- when your breathing starts to falter she will pump her digits into your sopping wet pussy to help you along

- which ends in you creaming all over her fingers

Kamijou Touma 上条当麻

- very honest

- generally likes to start slow and let you take lead

- but sometimes if he’s really needy, he will come lie on top of you when you’re on your stomach, kissing your shoulders gently

- you know what he wants straight away, his bulge pressed into the back of your bare thighs though plain grey sweatpants

- you push him back against the headboard, climbing onto his lap to straddle his waist

- he grabs your hips, kissing you and roughly grinding up into you while pulling off your shirt

- soon he pulls of your panties too, your messy cunt drooling all over the fabric of his sweatpants, making a visible wet patch on the grey fabric

- “so you’ve been waiting all day for this too, huh?”

- he rubs your clit gently as you sink down on his member, your walls fluttering around his cock at the stretch

- having you on top of him and watching your face as he rubs tight circles around your clit turns him on more than anything

- he’d let you ride him all night

- as much as you want to, by the time he’s about to cum your thighs are sore and your core is throbbing

- since you’re too tired he’ll grab your hips and help you along

- mumbles out praise as he finishes, still bouncing you on his lap

- “you look so perfect like this”

- the king of aftercare, always makes sure you’re okay and gets you whatever you need

- he will cook for you, bring you a warm towel, run you a bath

- ...which sometimes leads to round two

- always checking that he did good and that you’re satisfyed

- if not, he will gladly go down on you, or make you cum around his fingers until you can’t form proper sentences anymore

- he secretly hopes you’re not satisfied yet

- gives you one of his shirts to wear after <3

Mikasa Mikoto 御坂美琴

- tsundere, so tsundere

- “i-idiot, don’t touch me there...”

- “wait! no... actually, p-please don’t stop”

- blushes at every little touch you give her

- hickeys make her melt under your touch, especially on her neck

- and in return you get to hear all the cute moans and noises she makes <3

- at first she gets super shy about letting you see her body, so you only take off her shorts and panties

- before holding her against the wall and putting your face up her skirt :)

- you can feel her legs get shakey as you suck gently on her clit, so you make sure to hold her up well

- when she’s close she will grab your hair roughly and squeeze your head between her thighs while stuttering out apologises to you

- one time you even made her come so hard with your tongue that she shocked you with her electricity a bit

- but now she only uses her electricity whenever your vibrator runs out of charge, or occasionally on your clit if you ask her nicely

- kiss her and tell her how good she did for you

- while you’re on top of her distracted by her lips, she will slip her hand into your panties and finger you

- the way she works her hands on you is absolutely sinful, it’s obvious that she must practice on herself

- won’t let you pull away to catch your breath, because she’s embarrased of how red her face gets

- it helps her to get more comfortable knowing that she can return the favor for you though

- once she relaxes a bit, holding her on your lap and using your vibrator on her is like a sight from heaven

- you wrap your arms around her body and alternate between grabbing at her soft breasts with your free hand, and curling your fingers into her velvety walls

- the way that her eyes begin to water as she bites into her lip to stop herself from moaning is truly to die for

- naturally, you squish her cheeks and make sure she lets every last whimper and moan out of that pretty mouth of her’s

- “w-wait... but I -ah, can’t keep my voice down”

- it’s okay, that’s exactly what you wanted <3

Sogiita Gunha 削板軍覇

- actually really sweet

- very enthusiastic

- he thinks you’re the most beautiful and precious person in the whole world and will absolutely make sure you know that

- mans will finger fuck the insecurity out of your body if you even think about being shy around him

- his number one goal is to make you feel as good as possible

- always asking for your consent before anything

- “please can I kiss you pretty baby?”

- “please can you sit on my lap?”

- “please can you sit on my face?”

- feeds off of your moans when he’s pleasuring you

- the louder you are, the harder and faster he’ll go

- whatever he lacks in experience, he makes up for with enthusiasm and stamina

- so much praise

- “you sound so pretty baby doll”

- loves when you scratch his back, or when you tell him how good he’s doing

- sometimes doesn’t realise when you’ve come so he accidentally overstims you

- lets you start on top so you can adjust to his size

- but always gets too excited and starts to bounce you up and down on his cock himself like you’re a stupid little fuck toy

- he’ll probably be moaning even louder than you are

- triple checks that you’re comfy before he grabs you by the ass, lifts you up and fucks you against the wall

- wants to pound you against everything; the couch, the bed, the kitchen counter, the window... you name it, he’ll do it

- lasts for so damn long without ever getting tired

- he can make you come at least three times in one round

- the angle of his pelvic bone hitting against your clit with every thrust doesn’t help that matter

- or his cock hammering repeatedly against your g spot

- when he is finally about to finish, he will hold onto your flesh hard enough to leave bruises, pushing himself as deeply inside of you as humanly possible until you can feel the tip of his cock hitting your cervix

- if you let him, he will breed you and stuff you full of his cum

Shirai Kuroko 白井黒子

(A/N: the characters in ‘Kuroko’ directly translates to “black child” and it always makes me laugh whenever Mikasa is like “KUROKOOOOOO” cause literally no one would call their kid that in English)

- takes no shit, A+ brat tamer

- dresses up in the skimpiest little lingere sets she knows you love, and watches you get all flustered 

- things can go one of two ways:

- one, you act like her obedient little fuck whore and do everything she says

- two, she teases you for hours then makes you watch as she rides your thigh without ever letting you cum

- kuroko has so many toys... but don’t worry, she loves to share with you

- first she orders you to make yourself cum in front of her, observing how you work your fingers against your clit and blush in embarrasment at her gaze

- soon enough though she won’t be able to help herself anymore, perching herself on top of you so her ass is wiggling just above your face, your wet cunt in her full view

- presses her tongue flat against your clit and laps you up like it’s her last meal

- your moans make her go absolutely feral, even more so when you’re pushing your tongue between her folds

- the vibrations from her panting and moaning around your clit, and the view of her pretty pussy right in your face is almost too much for you

- especially when she is going down on you so well like that

- pumping one finger experimentally into her messy cunt, followed by a second, you continue to lick at her clit

- watching you play with your pussy really made her soaked huh

- as much as you want her to cream all over your fingers and cum on your face, she is insistent on making sure you finish first

- she gets off to you is just a giver like that <3

- puts you into the wildest positions and fucks you with a double sided dildo, a hitachi wand held on your clit

- very vocal, loves teasing you while her free hand is wrapped tightly around your throat

- “come on baby, use your words, tell me how much you like it”

- she’ll coo at you innocently, knowing damn well you couldn’t speak if you wanted to

- “i guess you don’t like this... i’ll just have to stop then, what a shame”

- you better believe she’s not gonna continue fucking you until you’re sobbing and begging for her to keep going

- of course that is exactly what she wants, to turn you into a submissive slut all for her own personal use <3

[coreastories]

A Drive Around the Coast

Well, several drives.

They go on a trip.

Like normal people, they get to know--and love--more about each other. 

The King: Eternal Monarch RPF (Real People Fiction) Yep, this is LMH/KGE. Don’t worry. No cringe. Never. :) 

Inspired by July 13 - My Love By My Side

Extended MEGA version of Twitter thread fic I posted on July 13

With thanks to Joyce @singersleeps on Twitter and RCL. On July 16, she shared her translation of the Weibo speculative posts that in turn inspired how I could extend the thread fic I originally posted July 13 on Twitter. 

For @collectsfallenstars and Patty @pateetsie again, because RPF shenanigans, and just because. 

Companion to A Ride Along the River, but can standalone. 

ON AO3 for kudos and download :) 

July 9

He was such a tall tree man that when she got into the driver’s seat, she fully stretched her legs and her feet just thumped uselessly on the car floor. She couldn’t reach the pedals at all. 

He laughed his weird laugh while he adjusted the seat for her. 

Once he had put on his seatbelt and the van passed them, she started the car and followed. 

They were on a coastal road now and everyone’s business was to drive along it, so both of them felt safe enough to open their windows. They grinned at each other at the delicious wind that buffeted their hair and faces. 

It was so good. She felt so good. 

She handed him her phone and she pursed her lips and tried not to smile when he expertly navigated it, and in another second, the speakers played exactly the song she had in mind for a drive like this, with someone like this, on a trip like this, in a life like theirs. 

She realized he was looking at her to see if he’d done right, and she scrunched her nose and smiled. Without taking her eyes off the windshield, she reached for his hand, and it was already there waiting to catch hers. 

Sometimes their sync scared her. Or was it how he was so attuned to what she wanted? She had never felt so carefully... observed. He observed her. Out of the corner of his eye or with both those beautiful eyes, he saw and catalogued everything. 

And when all this began it had made her feel conscious of what he saw and whether he liked it. 

And apparently he did. Everything about her. Her truest self. She hadn’t hidden anything, to test him, to test herself, and he’d passed every test. 

So now she was well beyond the point of being conscious and well into the territory of getting used to it and loving it. 

He flipped the visor for her just as the angle of the afternoon sun started poking her in the eyes.

He offered her a sip of water just when she felt a little parched.  

He reached across her waist to shut all the windows just when she felt the wind start to bite and sting. 

This time, she turned to him with an eyeroll. “I could have done that.” 

“You didn’t have to. I can do all the buttons for you.” 

It took three seconds. Then he realized the ridiculousness of what he said. The lip bite came first. Then the grin. Then the laughter. 

She kept both hands on the wheel, trying to keep her eyes open as she shook with her own giggling. His hand was on her shoulder, keeping her upright because her body was curving over toward the dashboard. 

She ended up pulling over because her fit of giggles refused to stop. 

He was still chuckling, probably more at her laughter now. She felt him put her ball cap on her head, put his on, and then she saw him climb out and round the car to her door. She opened it herself but she was still too far gone to do much else.  

She had both hands over her cheeks now, alternately covering and fanning her face as she tried to calm down. He gently grabbed both wrists and pulled her up and out of the car. 

The wind helped. The change in temperature helped. His closeness helped. She took a deep breath and she was done. 

The visors of their ball caps collided and dovetailed as he peered down at her face. “It wasn’t that funny.”

This just triggered another giggling fit and she pretty much collapsed against him with her hands sliding from his chest to his waist so she could hold on to his hoodie and not fall to her knees. 

He held her and laughed a little again, rubbing her back a bit. “What?” 

She took deep breaths. When she was sure that answering wouldn’t make her giggle again, she said, “I… I remember the… the... button scene. You know…”

“Ahh.” And he grinned. 

“Yeah.” She ducked her head because he was looking at her intently and-- just when she thought she was getting used to it, he always managed to show her she was still not used to it. Would she ever be? His gaze was so intense, so unbelievable, because it made her feel like all he saw was her.  

He twisted her ball cap on her head, and once she was visible to that gaze, he said, “Our first kiss.” 

Almost on instinct as a defense, she said, “That wasn’t us.” 

He blinked. “Oh. Right. So when was it us then?” 

She looked up at him and realized, after all their text messages and phone calls, that they’d never talked about this yet. 

Instead of pressing in that direction, he pushed her gently in another-- toward the car. “Let’s get you back in the car. It’s getting a bit cold. I’ll drive now.” 

“But I only drove for an hour.” He had already driven the two hours from Seoul to their meeting point. 

“You drove a bit more than that.” He gestured for her to get into the passenger side. “I think we’re less than thirty minutes away now.” He adjusted the seat before getting in. 

Only when he was seated did she drop back in. She took off her ball cap and tossed it to the back seat, where it joined his. The caps sat bill to bill like they were having their own dialogue. 

She faced him just as he started the car. “It was me when we kissed by the window.” 

And she was glad the sun was going down, because she felt her cheeks burning. 

He maneuvered the car back onto the road. As soon as they were cruising again, he turned to her for a bit and reached for her hand. And she loved it that whenever he did that, his eyes always sought hers first. For permission. Or maybe he just really enjoyed turning her to mush by making contact with his eyes before making contact with his hand. Or with his lips. 

She really was thankful it was getting dark, especially when he said what he said next.  

“It was me when we kissed by the bed.”

He squeezed her hand. 

July 10

She was sitting in the passenger seat on her side, clutching her middle. The lights from the street lamps showed him she was grimacing a little. 

“I think I ate too much.” 

He grinned. “They served too much.” He cursed when he hit a random pothole. “Sorry about that. You okay?”

Her expression and position hadn’t changed. He was afraid that would unsettle her currently full stomach. Apparently not. She really was made of sterner stuff. All she said was, “Let’s not have bibimbap again while on this trip. Not like that anyway. How many side dishes was it? I lost count.” 

He laughed. He remembered how well she ate. He loved that she loved food and had no compunction about eating with enthusiasm, wherever she happened to be. They’d booked a dining room at the restaurant so it was just them and their teams, so she probably felt at home. But he had seen her eat with everyone else before. She was consistent with everyone, everywhere. 

Her unchanging character was what intrigued and charmed him when he finally met the person behind those magnificent and diverse roles. 

“I’ll grill meat tomorrow. The guys got fresh fish and ojing-eo and saeu, too.” 

“That sounds awesome,” she said, carefully sitting up and adjusting her seatbelt across her body. “Is it weird to fantasize about food when I’m still about to burst from food?”

He laughed again. She could always make him laugh. “No.”  

“You lost weight during the shoot too, right?”

He nodded. “About eight pounds, I think. You?”

“About the same. Do you want ice cream?” 

She was smiling as the light of the convenience store fluorescent lamps filled the car. He pulled over, shaking his head and grinning. She flitted out of the car fast-- for someone with a heavy stomach-- and he wondered if she should have put her ball cap on. But sometimes being in plain sight helped better than any attempt to hide. People didn’t expect you to be bare-faced if you really were a celebrity. 

And it was a godsend that everyone wore masks right now. 

She came back to the car and he didn’t need to ask her if anything happened. She was usually blushing and a little unsettled when she was recognized. She was shy. Eight years in the industry and she still blushed when she was at the center of attention off-camera. 

But now she neither blushing nor rattled. Just excited with her loot. 

He started the car and they ate ice cream. She fed him as he drove, and he pretended nonchalance that he was sharing her plastic spoon. 

That was new. 

Another new thing to add to the list so far. 

Sharing a blanket when they were all hanging out together. 

Good night kisses before they went to their separate rooms with the team-- girls and boys together. (No funny business on this trip-- he took care of his people).  

Her hand playing with his hair and ear when he laid his head on her lap.

The cute way she nodded when he agreed with what he or anyone else said. 

The silken softness of the skin where her back met her nape, when he lost thought one time she sat by his leg while he was on the couch, and he didn’t realize where his hand had gone and stayed. 

She must have felt him freeze, because before he could casually remove his hand, hers was there on his wrist, stroking and patting his arm, before letting go and going back to strumming the guitar on her lap. 

He moved his hand to her shoulder, but his thumb was stubborn and stayed glued to that new delicious place. 

July 11

He leaned back on the passenger seat and closed his eyes, but he was grinning. She took her hand off the wheel for a second to poke him at his side. He dodged the second poke and caught her hand. 

“What?” he asked, eyes still closed. 

“Did you really not plan that? They just also happened to be here?” 

“Yep.”

“I don’t believe you.” But she was smiling. It was so good to see the girls. The three of them hadn’t really gotten the chance to spend more time together during filming, but both women had become close friends. One she shared an agency with, and the other was such a nice and warm unnie. 

He had driven them to the bay today, with their staff staying behind at the villa, completely off the hook for their own plans. The bay was a perfect, secluded place for a sunset walk, and her heart recognized the romance of it and was thrilled at it. 

And then she saw two people approaching them, crossing the sandbar, waving and calling out annyeong. 

They had dinner right there, on a blanket on the sand, wrapping meat and sides in sangchu as fast as they talked, catching up with each other as the sun set before them. 

And throughout all that, he had sat slightly behind her, his back perpendicular to hers, so that whenever she leaned back she had something to lean on, and whenever her hand rested on the blanket, it was beside his, their fingers touching or overlapping. 

He let the women talk. He asked and answered questions, but for the most part, he let them talk. At some point he even leaned on her, so her instinct had been to lean back on him, and they stayed like that, until it got too dark and they packed up everything with the light of their phones. 

She and the girls had promised to meet again in Seoul. Her mind was already buzzing on how exactly to get that done. 

But she was also completely, entirely in awe of the man napping--or pretending to nap-- beside her as she drove his car. She hadn’t expected this sunset to turn out like this, with new friends she’d sorely missed. 

But then he always did surprise her. Not always in big ways like this one. But in quiet, small ways. 

Like how he always got embarrassed when their teams teased them. 

And how he intently listened to her all the time and looked surprised sometimes, even with his uncanny ability to intuit what was on her mind and what she needed or wanted. 

Or how he never assumed she would give him anything-- whether it was her hand, a kiss, or her head on his shoulder. 

Earlier on the blanket was the same. He had offered to be there for her to lean on, but he hadn’t pushed. He had this ability to get close to her without invading her space. 

Or was that her? Was he simply welcome now, his touch and presence beside her something she now wanted that it was never an intrusion in the first place?  

She leaned back on her seat, extended and locked her left elbow as she held the wheel with one hand, and looked at him again. 

She was almost startled when his eyes opened and looked at her. Almost. 

Because over the last few days, she had gotten used to him meeting her gaze. And holding it. 

Of course she couldn’t lock eyes with him just now because she was driving but she felt her lips turning up in a smile. 

She glanced at him again, and when he saw her smile, he grinned that boyish grin, reached out and took her free hand in his. 

“Did you have fun today?” 

She nodded.

“And my grilling is five-star, right?”

He laughed. 

Just to mess with him even though he did grill so well, she wrinkled her nose. “You’re pushing it.” 

She was in danger of loving that silly laugh too much. 

July 12 

They’d fallen asleep on the living room couch. 

Every single one of them was a little or a lot drunk. And judging from the blanketed lumps scattered around the living area, every single one of them hadn’t made it to the bedrooms either. 

He was on his back on the long white couch, his arm around her, securing her against him as she lay half on the sofa and half on him, her head fitting perfectly against his shoulder and neck. Her arm was around his waist, her leg thrown over his thigh. 

She sang last night. And he could still hear her singing voice in his head. 

She was an angel. And he couldn’t believe his good luck in meeting her, knowing her, and now holding her like this. 

With just a small movement, his lips reached her forehead, and he kissed her there. 

He closed his eyes again. 

She felt that kiss and smiled to herself, tightening her arm around him and relishing how warm and solid he was. She could feel nothing but space behind her back and beyond his hold, but she felt safe in his arms. He wouldn’t let her fall off the couch. 

After all, he had kept her secure while they were both on a horse. He hadn’t allowed her to be forced into anything she wasn’t comfortable with, even a tiny thing like calling him “oppa” in public. He had always… always made her feel safe. He was her sunbae and now he was… 

He was an angel. He was kind and he was funny and he was a dork and he made her heart race and made her feel at peace at the same time. 

With just a small movement, her lips reached his jaw, and she kissed him there. 

She closed her eyes again. 

This was their last day here. Maybe they could prolong it by sleeping. 

July 13

She was asleep, her legs tucked under her, both feet at her hip, the shape of her toes discernible through her yellow socks.

Her cheek was slightly squished where it rested on her shrimp neck pillow.

And he catalogued these details, these mundane details, because he was driving.

But when the lights turned red, he stopped the car and looked his fill of the details that stole his breath away, no matter how many times he'd already seen them before.

Those lips, slightly open, pink, and unadorned with any artificial color.

Their script had never called for him to touch those lips, he just did. And he had clung to the thought that it was because he was dedicated to his craft, and Lee Gon couldn't possibly NOT touch those lips when he kissed her. 

But HE couldn't either.

It was-- he was fascinated that she never had any artifice, especially on those lips, which in all the time he'd known her had never uttered a single word he couldn't like or adore.

If she wasn't saying respectful, thoughtful, or generous things, she was laughing or smiling.

Laughter that always made him laugh. Smiles that stuck to the back of his eyelids so that he saw them even when he was away from her. Just the thought of it made him smile right now. 

He pursed his lips, but his grin was too persistent, unstoppable, not when she was right there.

She stirred and scratched her nose. His eyes followed her hand as it went back to join the other on her lap. 

He loved those hands, too. 

Soft, and brave, because those hands never shied away from handling anything she thought worth the effort.

Including him. Apparently, she thought he was worthy, because here she was beside him.

And nothing else mattered. 

Everything else could be finessed.

But in the meantime, she was on a furlough before the mad rush of winter.

They had months, or realistically, weeks together. 

Or practically, perhaps days and nights scattered here and there. 

They'd be busy. So busy.

But they’d just spent four blissful days together. He had seen so much of her to fill his mind on their days apart. 

And in the meantime, she was right there beside him, sleeping and slightly... 

...slightly snoring. 

He grinned. He'd tease her about that later. And she'd probably punch him.

He loved those hits and punches. 

Like the image of her smiles, those punches gave him solid ground, made him think, anchored him to wisdom. 

He wasn't going to make mistakes this time.

He took her hand and waited for the light to change.

And then they were at the park, and her car was pulling up beside his. He squeezed her hand to wake her up. 

She saw her car the same moment she opened her eyes. 

“Oh.” 

She looked at him. He didn’t know what she saw. He hoped he didn’t look pathetic and woebegone. He tried to smile, but she had already taken off her seatbelt, already crossed the console, and already gently taking his cheeks in her hands. 

And then she was kissing him, and his arms were going around her, pulling her tight against him. She melted against his embrace and he loved the way her cheeks stroked his when she hid her face against his shoulder. 

He turned his head and pressed his lips against her neck. “I’ll talk to you later?”

She nodded against him. 

She kissed his cheek. He kissed hers. And then they were smiling at each other. “I’ll talk to you later,” she repeated. 

He hugged her again and it was her turn to nod against her hair. 

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

[sleepystarsiri]

MintCider (Noir × Rowan)

————

NSFW, Loving

————

A low hum filled the air as Rowan cleaned the Med Wing of the castle.

They had a pair of headphones on, their phone in their jeans pocket. Music was playing, allowing them to concentrate.

The skeleton danced through their workspace, cheerfully cleaning. They knew it wasn't the best idea to be so happy in the home of the Negativity King.

They couldn't help it, music was helping them be happy. It was nice.

They were dancing happily, hips swaying as they sung quietly.

Their hoodie was hanging on a coat hanger near the doors to the Med Wing. They wore a v-neck shirt, revealing their collarbones and part of their ecto.

Seafoam green magic, flecked through with chocolate brown, was accentuated by the black shirt. The shirt was a bit small, meaning every movement caused the bottom to ride up and expose their midriff.

They were dancing cheerfully, swaying their hips and tapping their feet as they moved around. They kept cleaning, ending up stretched over an infirmary bed with their chest against it as they adjusted a blanket, hips swaying a bit.

Soft hands touched their hips, stilling them, before they felt a body press against them and they gave a startled squeal. They shot up straight, their headphones being gently pulled down. A warm chest pressed was against their back, soft breath fanning over the back of their head.

“What a sweet little show you put on for me~” A familiar, deep voice purred and they flushed, tilting their head back to look up at their King. Noir chuckled, one hand trailing up their side to cup their chin.

Rowan swallowed thickly, their face flushing as Noir's other arm shifted to pull them flush against him.

“D-did I disturb you, m-my King?” They asked nervously, trying to look down, but his grip on their chin kept it from happening.

“Imagine my surprise, my dear, to feel a source of positivity... Inside... My home. I immediately came to investigate... And what do I find?” Noir asked them, his fingers delicately tracing patterns in their ecto.

They shivered at the touch, looking at him with their mismatched eyelights big.

“M-me?” They replied quietly and he nodded, the hand on their chin gently and carefully trailing down their jaw and neck to stroke the ecto exposed by their shirt.

They shivered, taking a deep, unneeded breath.

“Indeed, you. I found you~ Humming and singing... Dancing to your heart's content...” He hummed, dipping his head to take a deep breath of their scent. To their embarrassment, they made a soft noise in the back of their throat.

Noir heard it and smirked, spinning them to face him before nudging them so they'd fall back onto the bed. They squealed and bounced a bit as their back hit the bed. He purred, nudging a knee between their thighs and leaning to place his hands on either side of their head.

The bed dipped as he put his weight on it and Rowan shivered, swallowing thickly as they looked up at their King. There was a soft hitch in their breath, a hand reaching up to tug Noir down.

He easily complied, lowering himself to capture their mouth in a dominating kiss. His tongues swiped over their teeth and they shyly obliged, mouth opening. Immediately, the King was exploring their mouth with his tongues, their single tongue overwhelmed by his.

A soft sound escaped their throat, lost in the kiss, as Noir's hands moved to settle on their waist. He slowly slid them under their shirt, stroking their ecto and pushing the cloth up. The King parted from the kiss to trail kisses along their jaw.

”Mmmn...” They gave a soft moan, feeling his hands cup their small breasts. They swallowed thickly, their hands moving to grip his arms. ”W-what if someone c-comes in?”

Noir paused before chuckling, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of their jaw.

“No one will.” He assured, then nipped their jaw, simultaneously giving their chest a gentle squeeze. They moaned, arching into his hands as their sockets fluttered closed. His cheek bones tinted a soft cyan.

What beautiful sounds they made~

He continued to fondle their chest, gently tweaking and pinching their nipples.

“A-aaah~!” Rowan immediately flushed deeper, bringing their hand up to cover their mouth. Before they could, their wrist was caught and pinned to the bed by a tendril.

“Don't try to hide your beautiful sounds from me~” Noir purred against their jaw, earning a shy little whine. He chuckled before slowly trailing his kisses down.

He reached the ever-present gash and a single tongue slowly dragged along the edge. They'd told him it was sensitive... But sensitive seemed to be an understatement.

Rowan practically arched off the bed with a startled moan that echoed around the Med Wing. Noir paused, genuinely shocked, and Rowan felt mortified...

Before Noir quickly but carefully began to lick the gash.

They melted, turning into a mess against the bed. Little gasps and mewls escaped them, their free hand fisting Noir's vest.

“Ahhh— Aa-aaah~! N-Noir!” They moaned and Noir gave a low groan, the color on his cheeks deepening. He slowly retreated from their neck, looking down at them with a dilated eyelight.

They whined softly, panting as they looked up at him. Their chest moved with their panting, their shirt bunched under their arms. He admired them, his eyelight turning into a heart.

They squirmed a bit, getting shy under his gaze.

“...Stunning.”

He murmured, leaning down to give them a soft kiss. They kissed back, giving a low purr.

He smiled and parted to gently take their shirt off them. One arm moved and covered their chest shyly. He hummed a bit in disappointment, but didn't force them to move their arm.

He loosened his tie and shrugged his jacket off. Nimble fingers set to work on unbuttoning his vest, then his shirt.

He shrugged them off, setting them onto another bed with his jacket.

Rowan gazed up at Noir with admiration, admiring his muscled form. He chuckled before leaning down to capture their mouth in a kiss.

“That look of admiration... It's the same one I give to you~” He whispered into the kiss and they flushed, giving a sweet little sound of embarrassment.

He chuckled as he pulled away, gently trailing his fingers over the waist of their jeans. Acknowledging the gesture for the question it was, they nodded and reached down to unbutton their jeans.

Noir stepped back so they could remove the pants, moving to take his own off. He paused upon seeing Rowan in their entirety, his breathing catching.

An expanse of seafoam green magic... Littered with speckles of chocolate brown... Flawless, unmarked... Unclaimed...

He licked his teeth, raking his gaze over their form. He slowly took his own pants off, placing them with the rest of the clothing. He stepped up to Rowan, placing his hands on their well-rounded hips.

“So beautiful... So flawless...” He whispered, almost reverently, and they looked up at him, face flushed brilliantly.

He gripped their hips firmly, leaning down to give them a fierce, passionate kiss as he guided them to lay down. One of his tendrils dipped down, slipping between their legs to rub at their folds gently.

A soft keen bubbled from their throat as they gently adjusted their stance, spreading their legs so he had room. Noir purred deeply, sliding his hands up and down their sides, to soothe them.

They shivered softly, but relaxed slowly, returning the kiss. Their arms gently wrapped around Noir's neck, holding him close.

The tendril rubbed their folds until it gently wormed between them, beginning to gently prepare them. They shivered at the feeling, parting from the kiss to rest their head against Noir's shoulder. He slowly thrust the tendril in and out, earning soft keens and little mewls.

Noir exhaled softly, his arousal intensifying. Rowan was going to be his... His.

They were going to be HIS. His alone. His.

He slowly removed his tendril once they were prepared, moving forward so he was between their legs. He carefully rubbed his member over their folds to coat it in their slick before looking at them.

“Ready?” He asked softly and they looked at him, giving a slow nod. He took a deep breath, then slowly and carefully thrusted into them.

They gave a small hiss at the stretch and pain, clinging to Noir, who gave their shoulders soft kisses. It took a few moments, but they soon adjusted and relaxed.

Noir smiled and then sank his teeth into their shoulder, earning a low keen. He slowly released the bite, lapping away the marrow and magic.

“You're mine.” He whispered and they blushed, nodding—

Then yipped as he began to thrust.

They gently clung to his shoulders, moaning softly as he rocked into them.

His pace was steady, but his thrusts were deep.

Rowan was wound up from the attention he'd given them, so their walls were slick and warm, pulling Noir in.

They clung to him, rocking their hips to meet his thrusts with soft moans tumbling from their throat. Noir gave a low purr-growl before he grabbed their legs, gently changing Rowan's position.

They recognized the position right off and flushed, but their walls clenched around him. They clearly liked the position...

Noir adjusted himself, then began to pound into Rowan, holding their thighs in a near-bruising grip. He was panting and moaning lowly himself.

Rowan was so warm and tight... They felt so good.

Noir angled his thrusts a bit, searching for something. He was soon rewarded with a loud moan of his name, Rowan leaving small scratches across his shoulders.

He grunted softly as he started aiming for the area that'd caused the reaction, watching Rowan become a mess beneath him...

His sweet little Healer coming undone under him~

Why, it was something he was thoroughly enjoying.

Especially as they suddenly clenched around him, crying his name breathlessly as they came.

He leaned down, kissing them sloppily as he growled and thrust faster, harder. They wailed in pleasure as he fucked them through their orgasm.

Noir's thrusts soon grew erratic as he grew closer and closer to his own release.

Rowan was panting and moaning beneath him, clawing his back. They cried out “M-my King~!” and Noir buried himself deep in them, releasing.

They moaned at the feeling, sockets slowly opening, though their vision was hazy from pleasure. Noir was hovering over them, panting softly as he watched them with a fond, loving expression.

“Mmmm... You look positively ravishing, my dear~”

[typewriterghcst]

Title: Comme Il Faut

Rating: Gish, but there is a. uh. Suggestive Joke right before the cut

Fandom: The Cat Returns

Characters: a younger Cat King and Natori

Summary: He missed out on a lot of cardinal priming for his eventual position. Now unofficially under his advisor’s discreet tutelage, the new Cat King can’t quite say he’s sorry to have never been forced to learn the finicky etiquette surrounding a proper meal… but a bowl of homemade soup for his trouble isn’t that bad a motivator.

Notes: For the prompt ‘Over a cup of tea’ from this meme, which I again chose on my own bc I mean. I might as well right……. anyway, hopefully this won’t spiral out of control like the dancing one did rip Also despite the prompt being ‘over a cup of tea’, on a whim I changed this to ‘over a bowl of noodles’ because the Mr. Ping muse is evidently still hanging around even all these years later Filled with headcanons and some references to a much longer fic in progress detailing this particular part of their relationship coughs

                                                             &&&

“Your paw is in your lap again.”

The look this pointed but nonchalant observation earns him is affronted, exasperated, as the younger cat sets his unoccupied paw back on to the flimsy table before them.

“I don’t know why all this baloney matters, Natty. Is anyone really gonna give a crap if both paws aren’t on the table at all times..?”

“Well, they may come to the unfortunate conclusion that you’re feeling perhaps a bit feisty, but I suppose if that doesn’t bother you, then…”

Natori doesn’t have to look up from his work to know the new king most likely wears an indignant, scandalized look; he hears him shift in his seat anyway, leaning back, crossing his arms grumpily. When he speaks, it’s with a very characteristic sullen mumble.

“Don’t be crude.”

It’s here that Natori finally turns his attention from the portable stovetop to his companion, and it’s with a contrite smile, at least, which seems to appease Claudius somewhat.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I shall behave.”

Claudius scoffs. “All you do is behave. Someday, I’m going to order you to live a little, and you’re gonna just keel over because I finally found the one thing you can’t do.”

“There’s worse ways to die, I suppose.”

“Not many.”

Then, silence, as Natori doesn’t respond in favor of adjusting the flame and fanning his (for once uncovered) paw over the foaming pot. Just a few moments of this is all it seems to take for Claudius’ minuscule store of patience to run dry. He flops onto the table before him with a dramatic groan, muffled only slightly by the surface his face is now smushed against.

“This is so boring—! If I’d had to do this as a kid, I woulda kicked my tutor in the shin.”

Upon the deadpan knowing look he gets from Natori, the king amends himself, “...Okay, I would have kicked more tutors in the shins. Whatever, isn’t there something you can do to make this less excruciating?!”

“Isn’t that what the soup is for?” Natori asks mildly.

“Oh, yeah. How’s that coming, anyway? Smells pretty good.” 

“It won’t be long.”

In the silence that follows, Natori waits for another plaintive outburst from Claudius, but to his surprise, it never comes. Claudius instead seems to find absorption in his own thoughts, and it’s not long at all before he makes them known.

“Where’d you learn this stuff, anyway?”

“The cooking or the boring etiquette?”

“The cooking, duh.”

Natori hesitates, stirring the noodles briefly; he unintentionally gives the impression that he’s reluctant to reveal the truth, which only intrigues Claudius more. “...My grandmother taught me.”

"Did she teach you how to sew, too?"

"Yes," Natori answers patiently. In the fleeting time Claudius hasn't been paying attention, his advisor has already filled two bowls with noodles and is now ladling relatively clear, tawny broth over the top of them. Distantly, he feels his stomach growl in anticipation.

"Would you like some doubanjiang?"

"Some wha..?"

Wordlessly, Natori hands the jar to Claudius, who wastes no time at all in scrutinizing the paste or giving it a cautionary sniff.

“This stuff spicy?”

“It is spicy.”

Claudius hands it back. “I’ll take a rain check on it, then.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Gimme some extra beef, though.”

Natori complies, but once more without a word, and the reserve irks Claudius just slightly. He knows he isn’t, but it feels somewhat like he’s being ignored. He clicks his chopsticks together, and whether it’s out of impatience or peevishness, Natori’s chiding response is the same regardless— a mild, “Misusing one’s eating utensils is generally not recognized as acceptable behavior, sire,” as he places one of the bowls before the king.

Claudius grins at his advisor as if he’s come out the victor of some covert competition, but Natori can not for the life of him puzzle out what that competition might be. He might even wager the king himself doesn’t really know.

Then, seeing Claudius preparing to pick up his bowl and most likely gulp it down, he hastily adds, “A proper meal is one that’s savored.”

Claudius pauses mid-lift and shortly after deflates in frustration, plopping his bowl back down again. “Yeah, yeah, alright. We’ll do it the respectable way.”

Spoken while stabbing at a piece of beef with one of his chopsticks querulously. Natori resists the urge to put his head in one of his paws, making the mental note to address that another time. 

“...you know, when I’ve been king long enough, I’m getting rid of all this stuffy rubbish.”

“The elders will decry the new regime as vulgar extravagance,” Natori remarks with a tickled laugh.

“They’ll get used to it.” Then, after finally taking a bite of his soup now that his momentary petulance has worn off, “Hey— your soup is actually good.”

“You sound surprised— not necessarily the most polite of ways to issue a compliment, I might add.”

“That’s not how I meant it,” Claudius grumbles. “I just… I mean…”

What he meant is consigned to remain a mystery, as he never does pick his trailing thought back up, descending instead into apparent morose rumination. Natori doesn’t rush him, unsure himself over what to say.

It had been not two weeks ago the two could hardly stand to be in the same room together without taking veiled potshots at each other, if not outright quarreling, at least when not accompanied by King Aelius or other companions. Reaching an understanding and two very genuine apologies did not make for an instant camaraderie on their own.

“...Thank you,” Natori does eventually settle on, his eyes still averted. “I-It’s not anything special, but I suppose it does remind me of home.”

Claudius looks up from his soup, and the stormy brow he’d been sporting softens some. He, too, then averts his gaze.

“Sounds nice.”

“I’m sorry,” Natori says, and though it feels like the proper response, he can’t explicitly trace what reasoning has led him to it.

Meanwhile, Claudius only shrugs, popping the last piece of cubed beef from his bowl into his mouth and propping his head against one of his paws (the other is, once more, folded in his lap below the table). “It is what it is.”

Continuing on, in a way Natori would have previously read as defiant or vindictive, he offhandedly stabs his chopsticks into the few remaining noodles and leaves them there, and the look he spies on Natori’s face when he turns his attention to his advisor tells him he’s probably committed a number of faux pas. 

With a sardonic snort, he says, “Guess I got a long way to go, huh?”

Natori, while rather gently and methodically removing the chopsticks and laying them beside the king’s bowl, offers a more optimistic (if shy) angle. “You’ll get there.”

“With this soup, I will.”

Ah. One truth revealed, it seems. Natori meets Claudius’ wide smirk with a faintly playful look of his own, head canted just slightly in knowing amusement, and the tacit agreement seems to be all the king needs to add yet another inscrutable victory to his ongoing arcane list. Motivation and indulgence are often inexorably wed, after all.

[theodorecanaryhood]

This time is different

Found a new obsession as I'm taking a short break from DC fanfiction. Discretion is advised as this fic is steamy af 😉

Diego Sechi x female reader

You had rotten luck with men lately. Since your shitty ex left you high a dry 4 years ago, not a complete lose as your little boy, Oliver, is a complete angel.

You worked your way up the ladder in the entertainment industry, mostly behind the scenes. But every opportunity that came knocking, you took it.

It was 6 weeks of working away from home and in Central London with high end models. Thinking they were better than you cause they were skinny, flat stomachs, salad eating bitches. You had no idea what to expect, but you missed Oliver like crazy. Your best friend, Alison, was looking after him.

You were just heading from King's Cross to st Alban's when you got a video call from Alison.

'Hey' you said answering with a bright smile,

'Little chap wants to say goodnight' Alison said as Oliver's face appeared on screen.

'Hey little angel' you said smiling at him,

'Mummy I miss you' he said, 'when will be home?'.

'Not long Ollie, few more weeks. Auntie Ali looking after you ok? I love you' you said, Oliver blew kisses at the screen.

'I love you too mummy' he said, though he was only 4, he was light years ahead with intelligence.

...

2 weeks you'd been here and you were getting homesick so badly. You just wanted to cry, didn't help that the woman staying in the room next to yours in the hotel was wheeling her son around. Made you homesick 2000 times more.

You weren't paying attention to where you were going obviously, that's when you bumped into this guy. Knocking his books out of his arms.

'I'm sorry' you squealed as the books sent a thud to the floor,

'That's ok, I wasn't looking where I was going' the stranger said as he picked them up. He stood up, pushing his glasses up his face and smiled shyly at you.

'I wasn't looking either, was just...nevermind, sorry again. I'm y/n' you smiled, holding out your hand. The man smiled and took your hand and shook it.

'Diego' he said, he was tall, blonde, strong jaw and from what you could see through his jumper. Quite muscular.

'What book is that?' You ask, pointing to the top one.

'The theory of quantum physics and string theory. And how they are connected' Diego replied. Damn, hot nerd alert.

'Most I read up on is how the heroic mouse saved Christmas' you chuckled, Diego gave you a confused look. 'I have a four year old son' you said.

'I see, well, must be hard to be away from him' Diego said, you looked at him.

'How did you know that?' You asked, Diego shrugged.

'Seen you before, never a kid though. Just assumed'.

'Well, you are correct. And yes it's very hard to be away from him. But he's in good hands' you replied.

'His dad' Diego shot back, you winced a little.

'No actually, my friend Alison. His dad left shortly before I gave birth. Haven't seen or heard from him since' you explained. Diego gasped a little.

'Sorry, I assumed again' you waved him off.

'No problem, happens all the time. By the way, what is your accent?' You ask, Diego laughs a little.

'Italian' he replies. Even bloody hotter you thought to yourself.

'Well, I better get to this studio if I want to keep my job. Which I do' you chuckle a little as Diego steps aside for you to leave.

'See you around' he calls out.

...

Models everywhere with next to nothing on getting interviewed, most of them dumb as shit, some extra dumb. Mostly just pretty people with 0% personality. You were doing up reports and statuses when a man's voice creeps up from behind you.

'Completely intolerable aren't they?' You jump and turn around, to find a hot blonde in nothing but swimming trunks.

'Kind of' you reply shy, the model starts laughing which confuses you.

'Y/n, it's me' he says, wait...Italian accent. 'It's Diego'.

'Holy shit you look...different' you exclaim. Diego laughs more as you turn red.

'Sorry I can't help it. I knew you didn't recognise me. The glasses and jumper' Diego said as he stifled laughter.

'Actually the fact you were wearing clothes was what threw me off' you say folding your arms.

'Ok ok, was wondering what you're doing after this' Diego asked you seriously. You looked at him shocked,

'Nothing really, why?' You asked.

'There's this lovely Italian restaurant not far from here, when I feel homesick I go there. Food is close enough to home. Want to go?' He asks you. The fact he was on full display with only trunks on made you flustered. And let's be honest, you wouldn't say no.

'I would love to' you smile, Diego does a little dance of joy.

'Awesome, I'll grab you from your room. Have to get clothes on' Diego says with a wink.

...

As promised, Diego came to get you and took you out to dinner. You got to ride in his sports car. Drink wine on a balcony under the sunset, plus the fact that Diego was talking to the waiters in Italian made it even more romantic. They say French is the language of love, but Italian is definitely up there.

Diego took you back to your room like a true gentleman.

'Want to come in for coffee?' You asked, Diego went shy and nodded.

'I'd love to' he almost whispered. As you walked in with him behind you, you took a breath. It had been 4 years since you had touched a man.

'Can I ask you a question?' You asked as you handed Diego his coffee while he sat at the little table and chairs, he nodded. 'Why are you a model? I mean, you're smart, like really smart' you said, Diego smiled.

'I started this to pay for my tuition, like how some people become waiters or strippers to pay for college. I grew up in a small town in Sicily, so I'm not from a wealthy family. I always loved science as a kid, so this is temporary' you briefly touched Diego's hand as you grabbed your mug.

'I get that, you are fitting for the role. But, you seem different to everyone else' you said as you sipped your coffee.

'You mean I'm not stuck up, in love with myself or thick as shit' Diego chuckles, you nod. 'Yeah, that's why I don't date models, they're too much into themselves as models and not as women'.

'I also get that, Oliver's dad was a fitness instructor. So all he cared about was being the biggest guy in the room'.

'Was he as big as me?' Diego asked you as he slid his chair round the table closer to you.

'No, smaller' you smiled, Diego leant into you closer.

'Can I steal a kiss?' Diego whispered, you leant in as to say yes. Diego closed the gap between the two of you and kissed you hard. You were so lost in the moment until a thought crossed your mind, you pulled away to look at Diego.

'Me having a son doesn't bother you?' You asked sincere, every guy you tried to date would leave after the first or second date. Because you have a kid.

'Should it?' He asked you, you smiled and grabbed his face. Pulling him in and kissing him again.

Diego picked you up and carried you over to the bed, throwing you down and kissing you more. On your jaw line, neck and chest.

'Don't stop' you whispered, you didn't realise how long it had been since you had been with someone. Too long.

'Only when you tell me to' Diego whispers back, Diego removes his clothes, then he removes yours.

'Wait' you say as you leant up and rubbed Diego's abs, which makes him laugh deeply, throwing his head back.

...

Lying in bed, the two of you have kissed for a while now. You were aching for him, he was aching for some release.

'You ready?' Diego asked as he hovered over you, you bit your lip as you nodded.

Diego slid his manhood into you slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. Then as you breathed, Diego began to thrust slowly into you.

'Uh' you moaned out in delight...finally some release from something other than a vibrators or your fingers.

Diego bit your neck and collar bone as his thrusts got deeper and harder. You were a writhing mess underneath him. Diego grunted with each thrust, kissing you again as he placed one hand on your thigh and the other on your hip.

'Switch over' Diego said as he rolled over and pulled you up, you now on top of him.

You slid back down onto his piece as you began to get a rhythm. Diego smiled at you as your rhythm got faster. Diego pounded into you from below.

'Fuck, y/n I'm close' Diego breathed out, you kept going finding your spot, you found it quick from your angle and sped up, going harder too.

'Me too' you breathed, Diego leant up and kissed at your tits as you grabbed onto his shoulders.

'Fuck' Diego said as he slammed back down, cumming into you. You following suit as you rolled your hips out, enjoying the last of your high.

You collapsed next to Diego smiling as he kissed your head, rubbing circles on your shoulder.

'Been a while since I've done that, almost forgot how good it can be' you whispered, Diego kissed you again.

'Will you be mine?' He asked you, you looked shocked and bit your lip again.

'Are you sure?' You asked, Diego smiled and nodded.

'Of course' you smiled and buried your face into Diego's chest. 'I also can't wait to meet Oliver' Diego said which got your attention.

This is it, this time is different, different to the rest. He's not running, he's staying. Staying with you, always.

[allhalloweve]

Axe and Sword Chapter 1: The Wolf’s Den

Hello again! The official story starts with this chapter :) 

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/26639461/chapters/65064172#workskin

“James, did you pack any trousers?”

“Of course, I’m not an—oh, hang on, I don’t think I did.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and shoved his arms deeper into the pile of colorful clothing that threatened to devour his elbows whole. “Those might be helpful if you’re going to be stomping around in the snow.”

“We are going to be stomping around.”

“What?”

“Didn’t Mum and Dad tell you? You’re coming with us to Varghal.”

“It’s Varg-hall, James, not vargull. Of the two of us, you should know that.” Sirius emerged with a handful of mismatched pants and wandered into the next room, throwing them at James’ head. “Since when am I going with you?”

“Since this morning. Mum was worried I’d get bored and cause trouble between the meetings, so she wants you to supervise me or something.” James snorted as he caught the trousers and shoved them in his bag.

“Right, because I’m just brilliant at doing that.” Sirius tapped his friend’s golden crown as he passed, setting it at a jaunty angle in his unruly curls. “I’ll pack tonight. D’you have an extra coat?”

A mischievous smile flitted across James’ face. “Yeah, I think I kept the one I outgrew when I was seven.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sirius laughed, giving him a solid shove on the shoulder. “I’ll have you know I’m a perfectly average height.”

“For a dwarf, maybe,” James muttered, earning himself a smack to the head. “Ow!”

A gentle knock in the other room interrupted them. “Boys, I hope you’re done packing.”

“Almost, Mum,” James said, hastily cramming in the nearest article of clothing next to his pants as Lady Euphemia raised an eyebrow from the doorway.

“I haven’t started yet,” Sirius admitted. “Somebody needed a helping hand so he wouldn’t forget his trousers.”

“Well, if worst comes to worst, James can always borrow one of my dresses.”

“Mum!” James’ scandalized look sent both his mother and Sirius into a fit of giggles.

“Don’t worry, Jamie,” Sirius said as solemnly as he could. “We both know I’d look better than you anyway. It’s all in the legs.”

“What did I do to deserve this?” James wondered aloud as Sirius dissolved into laughter once again. “I’m a good son. A decent prince.”

“And an absolute troublemaker,” Lord Fleamont said as he entered the room. “There you are, my love.” Euphemia’s face lit up as he kissed her on the cheek and enfolded her in a hug.

“Are you sure Sirius and I have to go?” James asked, watching wistfully out the window at the distant sea. “Varghal is going to be frozen solid.”

“Varg-hall,” Euphemia and Fleamont corrected in unison. James immediately turned and glared at Sirius.

“I didn’t say it,” he protested.

“James, someday you will be the leader of this nation,” Fleamont said, crossing the room and placing his hands on James’ shoulders. Euphemia winked at Sirius from behind his back as the oh-so-familiar speech began. “That means you will represent not only our family, but also the mainland and each of the islands to the rest of the world. A great responsibility comes with this—sacrifices must be made for the people we care for and your citizens will look to you as an example. Attending the annual council meetings is one of your duties.”

“Besides, it’s still early autumn. I hear Frystmark is lovely this time of year,” Euphemia added. “Sirius, you should go pack before dinner. James, please make sure you bring your trousers.”

“Trousers!” Fleamont straightened suddenly. “That’s what I forgot!”

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

The journey to Frystmark was surprisingly comfortable. Their caravan was not large, consisting of two carriages: Euphemia, Fleamont, and James would represent the island council of the Eastern Coast and only brought three attendants with them. Sirius wasn’t an attendant, but he wasn’t technically part of the royal family, either—as the royal ward, he existed in a strange in-between place that boiled down to a position as James’ official best friend. It was the best job in the world, as far as he was concerned.

Though they followed the line of the coast, Sirius could feel the temperature growing colder and drier with each passing day. The glittering teal sea became a dark, eerie blue as they went north, and the warm breezes that tickled his face were replaced by howling winds. Sirius remembered the winters in west Silvalith with their frozen rivers and large snowflakes, but the chill of Frystmark settled somewhere deep in his bones as they crossed the border.

Even the forests were different: Harindvar, though it was a prolific trading hub, did not have many trees to speak of, and the Middle Kingdom’s lush forests had all turned auburn and gold as autumn set in. Frystmark’s trees were a deep green with needlelike leaves and rough bark—they smelled sharp, totally unlike the earthy softness of oak or elm.

“What kind of people would choose to live here?” James asked quietly on the sixth night of their journey while Fleamont and Euphemia dozed on the opposite bench seat. His breath was visible against the icy glass of their carriage and Sirius was grateful for the extra coat he had borrowed.

“You know the king and queen better than I do.” Sirius squinted into the night; he could have sworn he saw something move out there.

James huffed. “That’s the weird part. Queen Hope is as sweet as Mum, and King Lyall reminds me of Dad, if someone stole his sense of humor. Their son’s a little weird, but I can’t imagine anyone willingly signing up to live in the snow nine months of the year.”

“What do you mean?” Sirius frowned.

“About what?”

“You said their son was weird.”

“Well, it’s not that he’s weird, he just…” James trailed off, biting the edge of his fingernail.

“He freaks you out.” Realization dawned on Sirius and he grinned. “Oh my god, you’re scared of him! What did he do?”

“I’m not scared of him!” James hissed. “And shush, you’ll wake Mum and Dad.”

“You totally are.”

“No, it’s—” James ran a hand through his hair and winced when he stubbed his finger on the edge of his crown. “He’s quiet, but not in a shy way. He spends most of the meetings watching everyone else and only chimes in when he can completely tear apart their argument, then comes up with this amazing plan to help three countries at once.”

“So…you’re jealous?”

“I should be.” James’ voice was barely above a murmur and Sirius wondered if he had meant to say it aloud at all. “The last time we met, this general from Silvalith tried to be an ass about his mum’s idea and he shut the guy down with less than ten words. He reminds me a lot of Marlene, actually, if she had any self-control whatsoever.”

Sirius smiled. He liked Marlene for exactly that reason: she had an air of “pretentious spoiled princess”, but beneath that shell she was wickedly smart and had a knack for trouble that rivaled his own. She was handy with a longsword, too.

“I’m glad you’re here with me.” James bumped him on the shoulder and Sirius looked away from the wilderness to return the gesture. “I know it’s the future of our country and everything, but it can get deadly boring without you.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Sirius said, bundling up against the wall of the carriage. “We should get some sleep, your mum said we’d be there by tomorrow afternoon and Marlene will never let me live it down if I lose to her in another duel.”

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

Despite the creepy woods and the inherent intensity that came with a city built against a mountain, Varghal was beautiful. Sirius stared at the massive wall in awe as they passed through it, trundling along below muscular warriors and the biggest dogs he had ever seen. The mountain, like everything else, was larger than life: it shone in a myriad of icy blues and lilac against the glaring white of the snow.

The charcoal-gray castle wasn’t actually a castle, not by Sirius’ definition of the word; it was more like a really, really, big lodge with a sharply slanted roof to keep the snow off. Contrary to James’ previous comments, the people looked quite happy to be there: they smiled and waved to the Eastern Coast carriages while a herd of small children ran along behind them, shrieking with laughter.

The shock of the cold on Sirius’ unprotected face as he stepped out must have been clear, because an elderly woman came over from her soup pot and adjusted the edges of his collar into their proper position, tutting under her breath. “Welcome to the North, dear. Do try not to lose any fingers on your first day.”

Somehow, Sirius didn’t think she was joking as he shivered out a ‘thank you’ and hurried after James.

“Welcome to Varghal, friends!” King Lyall’s deep voice echoed off the stone walls as he crossed the room to greet them. The informality of the gesture was a bit surprising; in most countries, the monarchs would remain on their thrones while a steward introduced any guests, but Sirius had to admit he appreciated the lack of stiffness. “How was your journey?”

Sirius was vaguely aware of King Lyall and Queen Hope greeting the others, but his vison tunneled as soon as the prince came into view.

He was tall—taller than James, Sirius noted with a sense of satisfaction—but not nearly as broad as his father, though the sword at his hip hinted at a lot more muscle than met the eye. His wavy hair was the color of sweet caramel, and his eyes—

Sirius nearly keeled over when the prince looked at him; it was a true miracle his knees didn’t dissolve into slush. The sharp amber pinned him in place and he finally realized what James had been talking about: there was no doubt in his mind that the prince was the quickest, most observant person in the room.

“—and our ward, Sirius.” Euphemia’s smooth voice snapped him back to reality and he turned to the king and queen, turning on his brightest smile to hide the fact that he had just been ogling their son in the middle of their court.

“It’s lovely to meet you. You have a beautiful…mountain.” Sirius regretted his word choice as soon as it left his mouth, but the twinkle in Queen Hope’s eye and a quiet huff from behind her soothed his fear. The prince was barely holding down a smile, and his shoulders shook with silent laughter.

“This is our son, Remus,” King Lyall stepped aside slightly to make room for the prince.

“A pleasure.” Remus shook Sirius’ hand with the ghost of a grin at the edges of his lips.

“Indeed,” Sirius said. Would it be inappropriate to wink? Probably.

He did it anyway. The faint dusting of pink along the tops of Remus’ freckled cheekbones—freckles, oh, yes—was poorly hidden as he moved to greet James and his parents.

A guard with biceps the size of Sirius’ head led them to a nearby lodge once the initial greeting was done; they would have the welcome feast later for a proper ‘hello’, anyway, and the king and queen couldn’t spend all day chatting.

“I can’t believe you,” James hissed as they followed Euphemia and Fleamont to the lodge. “I cannot believe you.”

“What did I do?”

“Flirting! You were flirting with the fucking prince!” James’ ears had gone red, but he sounded more baffled than angry. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“Did you see him?” Sirius snorted. James pinched him on the arm. “Ouch! It’s not like you’re rival countries or anything!”

“He might be betrothed, Sirius,” James said slowly, like he was explaining it to a child.

“So, what, you think I’m sexy enough to swoop in and steal some poor Frystmarkan’s man?”

“That is not the point. The point is that there could be some sort of political agreement that he’s involved in and if you screw it up it could have actual consequences.”

“…so you do think I’m sexy enough to—”

“Oh, for the love of—” James made a funny sort of grumbling noise and turned his back on Sirius.

“Do you want to know what the best part was?” Sirius waited a moment, and when James continued to march on ahead of him, he began prodding his back. “James. Jamie. I know you want to know what the best part was.”

James stopped walking and turned around, looking thoroughly exhausted. “What, pray tell, was the best part?”

Sirius’ smile was downright devilish. “It worked.”

“Jamie!” A blur of yellow and purple almost bowled poor James over.

“Hello, to you too, Marlene,” Sirius said sarcastically. “I’m doing well, thanks for asking.”

“Shut up, nerd.” Marlene threw herself at him in the way only she could, wrapping her arms tight around his chest and squeezing tight. “I’ve missed you both so much!”

“It’s good to see you.” His voice was a bit muffled in her golden curls, and the hilt of the sword on her back threatened his eye each time she moved. “How’s the lion court? Not in shambles from your adventures yet?”

“I’ve done my damndest, but still she stands,” Marlene held him at arm’s length with a wide smile. “I guess I’ll need a partner in crime one of these days.”

“You’ve already got one,” a tall woman said, smiling as she hugged Marlene from behind. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, especially not for Sirius.”

“Imagine the scandal,” Sirius mock-fainted.

“Don’t worry, Dorcas, he’s got his eye on someone else.” James wrapped his arms around Dorcas’ waist, creating a strange three-person centipede where his chin just barely cleared her shoulder.

“Who?” Marlene all but shrieked, grabbing Sirius by the arms and shaking him. “Who, who, who?”

“Let’s see,” James said. “We’ve been here for half an hour and the only people we’ve met are an elderly woman who warned him against frostbite and the royal family. I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count.”

“You didn’t,” Dorcas and Marlene gasped at the same time, though one sounded significantly more gleeful than the other.

“Oh, I did,” Sirius couldn’t hold down his grin.

“And he succeeded,” James groaned, thumping his forehead against Dorcas’ back.

“Who knew you were such a rascal,” Marlene socked Sirius in the arm. “Only you would go for the king’s infamous son.”

“Infamous?” Dorcas frowned. “Remus is lovely, if a bit awkward. He’s so kind to all the kids and he’s quite a troublemaker once you get to know him. Reminds me of you, James, if you had a shred of sneakiness in your body.”

“Hey!”

“Speaking of sneaky, where’s Peter?” Sirius asked as he pulled Marlene’s arms around him and settled into the four-person hug chain. “Does he come to this sort of thing?”

Marlene pressed her face into the middle of Sirius’ back and sighed happily. Always a cuddler, he thought with an internal eye roll. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon enough. Some of the Silval knights were giving him a hard time earlier and he wanted a little time to read after unloading everything.”

“Which knights?” James’ voice had a false-casual edge to it.

“A couple of the idiots that always come along.”

“Which knights, Marlene?”

“Rosier and Yaxley,” she sighed. “Don’t worry, I already beat them in a fight and they apologized to him.” James made an unhappy sound, but he dropped the issue. “Come on, I need you three to admire my dress for the party tonight. Dorcas, darling, you already gave your opinion, but I could stand to hear it again.”

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

Marlene’s dress was, admittedly, quite wonderful. If Sirius had been attracted to women in the slightest, he would definitely have been smitten by her, especially after her entrance into the welcome feast. The light from the torches sparkled off the silver fabric as the steward announced the royal family of Tidoras and she took her seat next to Dorcas, who was deep in conversation with the rest of the representatives from Marajis and whose own golden dress complemented Marlene’s perfectly.

Quite the pair, Sirius thought as he took a sip of ale.

“King Lyall, Queen Hope, and Prince Remus of Frystmark!” The steward’s voice rang out and Sirius came terribly close to spitting his ale all over James, who gave him an exasperated look as he coughed into a napkin.

Remus cast a quick look his way and the corners of his mouth twitched up. Unfortunately for Sirius’ coherent thought process or general ability to drink things, Remus’ tan tunic and navy blue cloak were exceedingly flattering against his, well, everything. Silently, Sirius sent a litany of gratitude to Euphemia for inviting him along to the council.

The feast itself was delicious and loud, just the way Sirius liked it. He thrived on the energy of a crowd, and the meeting of six countries over a wonderful dinner and plenty of ale set him alight from the inside. He was sure he could live off this feeling for years.

However, the real fun came after the meal, when the bards kicked into an upbeat tune and everyone began pushing the tables to the sides of the room to free up space for a dance floor. If anything, the hall grew louder and more chaotic, filled with swirling bodies and off-key singing that warmed the place so much that Sirius forgot how cold it was outside the walls. He wheeled around the room with Marlene, both of them laughing as they slipped between young children who wanted in on the excitement. He and James shared a dramatic slow dance once Marlene swept off to find Dorcas, much to the amusement of the older couples around them.

He took a break during a lull in the music, snagging his half-finished pint and a fresh one from the table as he made a beeline for the far windows. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I live here,” Remus laughed, taking the offered drink.

“Do you really? I hadn’t noticed. The boots really threw me off.” Sirius grinned as Remus kicked him lightly with the aforementioned boots, which were fur-lined and clearly meant for heavy snow. He snickered and took a gulp of ale, trying to suppress a grimace. “I’m really sorry, but this is terrible.”

“It is, isn’t it? Don’t tell my da, but I really can’t stand the stuff.” Remus raised his ale to a passing noble with a fake smile and took a sip of it, his face twisting.

“Are you betrothed?” Sirius asked.

Remus, who had just been tipping his flagon back for another drink, choked and spluttered. “No—” Sirius smacked him on the back twice as he regained his breath and turned to halfheartedly glare at him. “You’re an asshole. No, I am not betrothed. Why do you ask?”

“James was curious.”

“James?” Remus raised his eyebrows and glanced across the ballroom, where James was clearly struggling to escape a conversation with an elderly Middle Kingdom general. “He’s not really my type, unfortunately.”

“Tragic. He had his heart set on you, you know. He’ll be devastated.”

“I can’t say I hope he recovers. I have a reputation as a real heartbreaker around here,” Remus said mildly, waving to James, who was desperately signaling to Sirius.

“Do you?”

“Oh, yeah, the old women and the twelve-year-olds are just falling all over themselves.” They glanced at each other, then burst into laughter.

“Really, though, James wanted to make sure you weren’t promised to someone,” Sirius said as soon as he regained his breath. “I think he was worried I would accidentally end the political world with a bit of flirting.”

“Wouldn’t that be something.” Remus rolled his eyes and leaned against the windowsill, letting out a long breath. “It’s nice to have visitors. We’re not generally fond of strangers, but the council mixes things up, gives the pack something to look at other than squirrels.”

“I meant to ask about that. Why are your dogs so…”

“Gigantic? Toothy? Generally a bit frightening?” Remus finished for him.

“Exactly.”

“First of all, they’re not dogs, they’re wolves. And second of all, they’re not really wolves, either.”

“Thanks, that really clears it up.”

“They’re called direwolves,” Remus said with a laugh. “They’re like regular wolves, but bigger and stronger, and we train them with our warriors. That’s why our sigil is a direwolf; they’re sacred to our people.” He gestured to the flags that hung from the eaves bearing the shape of a snarling wolf’s head.

“Is that why your capital is called ‘Varghal’? It means ‘wolf den’, right?” Sirius smiled as Remus looked at him in surprise. “Hey, I know things.”

A secretive smile crossed his face for a half-second. “Yeah, that’s mostly why.”

“Remus! There you are, sweetheart.” Queen Hope glided toward them from the end of the table with a warm smile before Sirius could inquire further. “Hello, Sirius, how are you?”

Sirius bowed to her. “I’m doing well, Queen Hope. The feast is fantastic and your son is an excellent conversationalist.”

“Your father wants to speak with you for a moment,” Hope tugged on the edge of Remus’ cloak and shepherded him across the room, toward a crowd of noblemen. King Lyall stood out from the others—the was the strongest by far, and nearly the tallest.

“See you later?” Sirius asked.

A soft blush, much different than the flickering hints of mischief from before, spread across Remus’ cheeks. “Sure.”

Whatever King Lyall wanted to talk about, it must have been important, because he kept Remus in the group for close to an hour. By the time he was done, Sirius was consoling James after a failed attempt at wooing a lovely woman with fiery red hair.

“She’s just so beautiful,” James mourned with his chin propped on his arms as he watched her chat with Dorcas. She was indeed quite pretty, and her dark green dress showed off some serious muscle on her arms. “And really smart, too. Nobody’s ever insulted me so thoroughly in such a short amount of time.”

“I think we need to have a talk about your turn-ons, Jamie,” Sirius said sympathetically, patting him on the back. “Generally, when someone insults you, you don’t keep pursuing them.”

James groaned and thumped his forehead on the table with a muffled “ow”.

“Excuse me.” Someone tapped gently on Sirius’ shoulder. “Could I steal you for a dance?”

He grinned as James slowly raised his head again. “Absolutely, your highness.”

Remus paused and craned his neck to look down at James. “Oh, and James? I’m not betrothed, though I appreciate your interest.”

The mortified flush that spread beneath James’ dark tan was something Sirius would treasure for the rest of his life as he allowed himself to be pulled along by the hand. “Is this a good time to mention that I don’t know how to do any formal Northern dances?”

Remus flashed him a quick smile and grabbed his other wrist. “You’ll catch on.”

Dancing in Varghal was very different than dancing in Silvalith or Harindvar. Western dances were stiff and formal with careful steps and little rhythm, while the Eastern dances were mostly group-oriented or done by trained dancers who swayed and twirled to the music. Therefore, Sirius was not expecting to be grabbed by the elbow and spun around in a tight circle by a giggling little girl in a yellow dress, who passed him off to the old woman who had fixed his collar earlier before disappearing into the mass of bodies.

He got the hang of the dance pretty quickly: partners swung each other in a few close spirals before joining up with someone new, and once in a while the group would clap along to the jaunty music or form a set of wide circles that ducked and wove within one another. Marlene and Dorcas whirled by him a few times, smiling freely and glimmering in the torchlight—quite the pair, he thought for the second time that night.

Twice, he caught Remus’ eye and tried to spin towards him, but both times they were snagged by other partners before they could meet in the middle. This kind of dancing was pure, unbridled fun that rose to a fever pitch as the song began to crescendo. Sirius was a bit dizzy from all the turning until a familiar hand closed around his own and Remus’ amber eyes, alight with joy, locked onto his own.

They spun together, hands linked, dipping in and out in a wild pattern until the final note struck and Sirius found himself chest-to-chest with Remus, staring into his eyes, breathless. They were both panting lightly and a little bit sweaty; Remus’ pupils were blown wide and his mouth was turned up in a faint smile. The air between them hummed with something that had no name and didn’t need one—all it would take was a single step from either of them, and they would be kissing.

“Friends and countrymen!” King Lyall’s voice boomed out over the crowd, hushing all the dancers. Remus quickly stepped away and Sirius followed suit, squeezing his hand once before taking a seat by James, still reeling from the dance. “It is a true honor to host you all for the annual council. This is a time for fostering unity and forming new friendships with one another, and I hope this week’s meetings will leave us all ushering in another year of peace and prosperity.”

The hall rang with cheers and applause as people mobbed the king for a handshake or a quick conversation, and it soon became clear that Remus would be occupied for the rest of the night. Downsides of being a prince, Sirius thought wryly as he followed James out of the hall and past Marlene, who had fallen asleep on Dorcas’ shoulder.

“Oh, fuck,” Sirius blurted as he entered the night on James’ heels. “It’s cold.”

James quipped some muffled agreement from the depths of his coat, but Sirius couldn’t hear it over the rushing wind or the biting cold against his skin, even beneath all his clothes. They sprinted for the Eastern Coast lodge, shivering as they slammed the door shut and peeled away their outer layers. “Ugh, I don’t know how I’ll survive a week here.”

“With plenty of warm drinks and long sleeves, Jamie.” A huge yawn crackled Sirius’ jaw and he trudged toward his bed. The number of blankets and furs had seemed excessive during the daytime, but he was eternally grateful for them now as he pulled two nightshirts on and bundled himself up. He heard James getting ready for bed in the adjacent room and the familiar sound was enough to lull him to sleep, into a land of dreams of secret smiles and watchful amber eyes.

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

Sirius awoke to a scratching at the door. The wind had increased in volume and the cold had leeched through the thick walls since he last remembered. He paused, staring at the ceiling, until the scratching sounded again, followed by a pitiful whine. Dog? he thought sleepily. Dog! Cold dog, poor baby.

Before he could wake up enough to question his decision-making skills, he was out of bed and crossing the small room, where a soft thump against the wood broke his heart. He wouldn’t wish this blizzard on anyone, least of all an innocent dog—he had always loved dogs.

The lock was stubborn, but it came free after a moment and he opened the door; the resulting blast of frigid air in his face startled him into full consciousness. It was still pitch-black outside and he took a half-second to wonder at the time before a fuzzy shape darted past his legs and into the room. “What the—” Sirius slammed it closed, locking it tight and trying to get his bearings. “Um. Hello.”

A spray of cold water hit him full in the face as the beast shook its fur clean and sat down, cocking its head at him. Sirius coughed once and wiped his face clean, still blinking sleep from his eyes.

“You’re not a dog, and not a wolf. You certainly look like one, though. Direwolf! That’s what you are!” The direwolf’s tail thumped against the ground. Sirius grinned and sat on the ground, holding his hand out like he used to for strays. “C’mere, puppy! C’mere!”

The direwolf stood up again—shit, the thing was even bigger now that he was on its level—and stepped closer, tentatively sniffing Sirius’ fingers. It backed up when he reached out to pet it and growled low in its throat, a warning sound that sent ice down his spine. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. Nice puppy.”

He took a deep breath and outstretched his hand once more, palm down, then closed his eyes. “There, I won’t grab at you if I can’t see you. Please don’t eat my hand.”

There was a moment of quiet, punctuated by the click-clack of nails on the ground and gentle whuffs of the snuffling dog, before something cold and wet touched Sirius’ palm. He cracked one eye open and found the direwolf nearly face-to-face with him, its muzzle pressed against his hand as it stared at him. “Oh.” All the breath rushed from his lungs and he shakily smiled. The wolf nosed along his arm and pressed its head into his hand, rubbing back and forth.

“Do you want pats?” Sirius ran a hand down the wolf’s neck and its tag wagged happily, spurring him on. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Good boy!” He reached up to scratch behind its ears and the wolf went boneless, flopping down onto him and sending them both to the floor. “Oof!”

Sirius lifted his head off the ground and nearly touched noses with the direwolf, whose chin was propped on his collarbones and pinned him to the ground. “How the hell did I get here?” he wondered aloud, letting his head fall back again. “As much as I enjoy being warm again, you’re crushing my ribcage and I’d like to get some sleep.” The wolf just blew out a long, damp breath into his face. “Thanks.”

Carefully, he reached for the general area of the wolf’s shoulders and pushed—by some miracle, the wolf took the hint and stood up, then wandered to his bed and hopped onto it. “That wasn’t an invitation, but alright.” The direwolf stared down at him with dark golden eyes, blinking once in an I dare you to move me kind of way. “I have the sinking suspicion you’re going to eat me when you look at me like that.”

It took a moment to sort out the tangled pile of blankets on the bed before he could settle in, but soon he was cuddled up beneath a mound of once-warm furs and trying to ignore the large carnivorous beast at the foot of the bed. As soon as his eyelids began to droop, the direwolf whined. Is it a good idea to kick a 150-pound predator off the bed? No.

It whined again and Sirius groaned. “What now?” He opened his eyes and didn’t bother struggling to sit up; all his resolve melted away as the wolf stared at him with the saddest puppy eyes he had ever seen. “Alright, come on.”

The direwolf shuffled forward and burrowed under the covers, kicking Sirius once or twice as it scooted up. It looked at him a bit suspiciously as it emerged on the opposite side of the bed, like it was waiting for him to change his mind. “Did you know you’re a sacred symbol here?” The wolf shifted a bit closer. “In my opinion, sacred symbols should be a little more considerate of hat time they come calling on sleeping people.”

It wagged its tail and drew even closer. “You smell like wet dog and your fur is still damp from the snow. I’m not snuggling you.” Sirius was too tired to deal with overgrown puppies tonight, so he turned on his side and closed his eyes.

The direwolf pawed at his shoulder and nearly tipped him over the side of the bed. “Stop that.”

Another paw. “Stop it, I’m trying to sleep!”

Apparently, the wolf’s thin shred of patience ran out, because the next thing Sirius felt was a freezing cold nose pressing against the back of his neck. “Hey!”

“Sirius?” James’ groggy voice made them both go stock-still. “Who’re you talking to?”

“A direwolf broke into my room, Jamie, and now it’s trying to cuddle me, or possibly eat me. Go back to sleep.”

“Right then, sleep well.” James wandered back through the doorway to his bedroom and closed the door once more. Chances were, he wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning.

Sirius rolled onto his ack and turned his head to look at the direwolf. “You shouldn’t be here when morning comes. I’m sure your warrior friends are going to miss you, though you don’t seem like much of a fighter.”

Gingerly, without breaking eye contact, the wolf laid its nose on Sirius’ shoulder. He smiled and gave it another scratch behind its tawny ears, then closed his eyes and let his breathing even out to match the wolf’s steady huffs. Within a minute, he was asleep.

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The direwolf was gone when Sirius woke up, though he had no idea how it had gotten out. The only evidence that it existed at all was a handful of tan-and-white fur scattered along the sheets and Sirius’ outer nightshirt. “Weird,” he muttered under his breath as he dug around in his rucksack for regular clothing.

Breakfast was a quick affair of berries and salted meats alongside a mug of hot chocolate that Sirius savored for nearly ten minutes. It wasn’t spiced like the kind they drank on the Eastern Coast, but rather dark and smooth as it coated his tongue. The clock on the wall finally motivated him to leave the comfort of the lodge and head out into the village, where he made a beeline for the armory.

“Jamie, you in there?” he called as he walked around the side of the building.

“Back here!”

Sirius followed the voice and found James taking careful aim at a target on the other side of a large arena. “Your first meeting is in ten minutes.”

“I know.”

“You should get going soon.”

“I will.”

“James.”

The arrow embedded itself next to several of its kin and James drew another without sparing a glance at Sirius. “I’m always on time, don’t worry. Look, this bow has a different curve than mine, so it’s got more power over less distance. See how well the arrows stick? It’s really beautiful work.”

“I’m sure it is. Unless you want me to give it a whirl, you should go to your meeting.”

James lowered the bow and looked at him in horror. “If you even breathe on this masterpiece I will maim you.”

“That’s what I thought. Come on, you can ogle the curve of the bow later.” He had to practically drag James away from the armory—honestly, the boy was hopeless when it came to archery, Sirius couldn’t take him anywhere—and they trudged toward the meeting tent and tried to ignore the snow that threatened to freeze their toes off. “I’m going to go find Pete. We’ll be in the main hall when you’re all done.”

As Fleamont and Euphemia’s ward, he remained under their guardianship, but whenever an important meeting called for the councilmembers he had to stay outside. The only real downside to being friends with the royal children of nearly every country on the continent was that they were required to sit in on those same meetings without him.

“Sirius! Hey!” Speak of the devil.

“Pete!” Sirius opened his arms for a tight hug. “How’ve you been? We couldn’t find you yesterday before the feast.”

Peter flushed and chewed at his lip. “I lost track of time, sorry. I just started this amazing new book that I just couldn’t put down and—oh! You haven’t met Lily, have you?”

“Lily?”

“She was at the party last night, hang on. Lily!” Peter stuck his head into the blacksmith’s shop. “Do you have a second?”

“What’s up, Pete?” Sirius just barely managed to contain his shock as the girl who had so completely rejected James at the party emerged, holding an axe in one hand and a whetting stone in the other. “Oh, hello, aren’t you friends with the idiot who hit on me last night?”

“I am, yeah.” Sirius extended a hand to her. “I’m Sirius, and the idiot was James. You really broke his heart.”

Lily shook his hand and gave him a suspicious look. “I’m not going to apologize.”

“I didn’t expect you to. James needs a little humbling now and then, and I can only do so much.”

Peter beamed at them. “Sirius, Lily is the best board game player I’ve ever met.”

“Is that true?” Sirius raised an eyebrow at the redhead. “I take that as a personal challenge, Lilyflower.”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Lily sheathed her axe at her hip and started walking toward the main hall. “Come on, you two, I’ve got a title to win.”

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In less than two hours, Lily cemented her place as one of Sirius’ favorite people. She was funny, smart, and kicked their asses at every single game they played until he finally gave in and started placing his checkers pieces with his eyes closed in the hope that a higher power would intervene just once.

“Lily?” James’ voice cracked horribly from the doorway. “Wha—but you’re—why are you here?”

“Is that an existential question or a literal one?” she asked without looking up from the board. “Currently, I’m here to beat your friend at checkers.”

“I call witchcraft,” Sirius complained as she took his last piece.

“I call skill,” she shot back with a wicked grin. “I believe you owe me something, good sir.”

He heaved a sigh and climbed on the tabletop. “Lily Evans is the most wonderful, talented, and badass person to ever grace this land.”

Peter clapped politely from his seat. “A true statement if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Thanks for the victory, boys. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do.” Lily ruffled Peter’s hair and strolled out of the hall, brushing past James as she went without a backward glance.

“She could murder me with that axe and I’d thank her,” James said faintly as soon as she was out of earshot. “That’s the love of my life right there.”

“Keep bothering her and you might get your wish,” Marlene teased, plopping herself down at the game table. “Pete, roll it back, would you?”

The dice game, along with several others, stayed active for much of the day as the four royals ducked in and out of meetings. Sirius had never been to a council before, but he could tell it took effort for them to make time in between important peace talks; more than once, Dorcas slouched low in her seat to avoid the sightline of another official, and on one memorable occasion James fully hid under the table when his father entered the room.

“We’ve got defined times to talk about these things,” he defended once Fleamont had left. “Twenty minutes of game time isn’t going to plunge the continent into war.”

The downtime between councils quickly became Sirius’ favorite part of the day: whether he was sandwiched next to Remus around a game of dice or mock-dueling Marlene in the arena behind the armory, he felt the bonds of friendship blossoming between the seven of them with each new inside joke and victory.

He often forgot that Lily, the oldest of their group, was only twenty-three; Peter, the youngest, had just turned twenty a month prior. They acted like they were sixteen again, racing around the village in a pack and dredging up fun wherever they went. According to James, the annual council was usually a solemn event for discussing heavy issues without a lot of outside interaction; watching the tension melt away from everyone’s faces warmed Sirius from the inside out.

On the fifth day of the council, the royal children were only allowed to attend the morning meetings, which left their entire afternoon open. “I have an idea,” Remus said as soon as they met up outside the main hall. He was practically bouncing with excitement as he led them to the outskirts of the town, where a rickety old shed wobbled in the rushing wind. “I need one shoe from each of you.”

Had anyone else taken him into the frozen wilderness and borrowed a shoe, Sirius would have laughed in their faces; for Remus, however, all his logic went flying out the window. It was almost embarrassing how fast his left boot came off.

“What’s he doing in there?” Dorcas asked as she balanced on one leg a d rubbed feeling back into her bare foot. “I’ll lose my poor toes if he takes much longer.”

“I can hear you!”

“Good! Give me my shoe!”

Remus appeared a moment later with a collection of strange boots hanging off his arms. “I have something better for you, you ungrateful hellion.”

“Are these…knife shoes?” Marlene took her pair and squinted at the blades someone had welded to the soles.

“These are ice skates. Don’t put them on now!” he shooed Sirius’ hand away. “We have a bit of a walk first.”

‘A bit of a walk’ turned out to be a twenty-minute trek through the forest that left them all simultaneously sweaty and numb, but it was worth it when they broke through a dense patch of bushes.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Lily breathed as a wide lake came into view.

She was correct—the lake was unlike anything Sirius had ever seen. Patches of snow rested on the thick ice and gleamed in the afternoon sun, making the whole thing shine. “Alright, put your skates on and then follow me.” Remus was already lacing up his knife shoes, looking more excited than Sirius had seen yet.

The skates fit differently than normal shoes and it was a real struggle to get them on properly; a quick glance around told him that he was not the only one having issues. Still, Sirius was the first to get his on and stepped onto the ice, only to fall flat on his back.

“Maybe you should try hanging onto a branch first,” Remus called from further out, sounding far too amused. “It’s easy once you get the hang of it.”

Sirius wobbled to his feet, feeling for all the world like a newborn deer taking its first steps, and took a shaky step. His skate slid straight out from under him and he clutched the branch for dear life. Ahead of him, Remus was gliding along the ice in smooth curves like he had been born for it.

Step, plant, push. Easy enough. Sirius planted his right foot and pushed off with his left, skidding forward along the branch. A surprised laugh bubbled out of his chest. “I did it!”

“How?” James griped to his left, where he was half-dangling off a branch.

“You step, plant your foot, and then push off with the other.” Sirius took another step and let go of the branch, moving towards the center of the lake. His momentum carried him forward without a lot of extra pushing, and soon he was headed straight for Remus. “Wait, shit, I don’t know how to stop!”

Remus’ eyes widened a half-second before Sirius slammed into him, sending them both to the ice with a clatter. “Ow,” he groaned beneath him.

“Sorry.” He tried to stand up again, but only succeeded in falling over again and elbowing Remus in the kidney, making them both wince.

“Stop, stop moving before you break something.” Remus grabbed his shoulders and pushed him onto the ice, then stood in one graceful step and hauled him up by the collar. “For future reference, you turn your skates sharply to stop, alright? Here, hold on to me and I’ll show you.”

Sirius listed to the side and gripped the hollow of Remus’ elbow for support. “Ice is a lot harder than dirt.”

“I won’t let you fall.”

A chord struck deep in Sirius’ chest and he looked up from his skates. Remus was watching him steadily, holding him tight as they skated along the pale blue ice that seemed to glow from underneath. I could lean in right now and kiss him. It wouldn’t take much. I’ll risk falling for that.

“Remus?” Lily’s palpable frustration cut through the whirring in his head. Their moment melted away. “We could use a hand.”

Timing, Lily. Remus released his forearms and skated over to Lily and James, who had somehow managed to lock their skates together when they fell; after taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Sirius made his wobbly way back to the shore and sat down heavily in the snow with a barely-concealed huff of annoyance.

“Hey, guys?” Marlene stopped in front of the group and laced her fingers with Dorcas’. “We have an announcement to make. Everyone will know at dinner, but we wanted to tell you first.”

“We’re engaged!” Dorcas beamed and held up her arm, where a thin silver bracelet adorned her wrist. Marlene showed an identical one in gold.

Sirius’ jaw dropped and Lily shrieked as James tried to stand up, momentarily forgetting their predicament and dragging her backwards along the ice in his excitement. “You’re joking,” Peter gasped. “Marlene, you didn’t tell me that!”

“It was supposed to be a surprise!” Marlene laughed as Peter nearly tackled her in a hug.

“Congratulations!” Remus said, wrapping Dorcas in a hug. “When did this happen?”

“Two weeks ago.” Dorcas looked over at her girlfriend—no, her fiancée, Sirius corrected himself—with soft, dreamy eyes. “Our parents approved it a while ago, but we figured now was as good a time as any.”

“That is so sweet,” James sniffled as Lily took off her skates entirely to pull both women in for a group hug in just her socks. Sirius joined them a moment later, followed by Remus, and finally James who also removed his skates so he wouldn’t bowl them over.

They fell over anyway, of course, landing in a snowdrift on the shore in a tangle of limbs and laughter. Sirius wanted to bottle the feeling of laying side-by-side with his best friends, giggling like twelve-year-olds as they escaped their looming responsibilities for once perfect afternoon until dusk fell.

There, out on the frozen lake, nobody cared who ran what country or what the politicians were saying or what the future would look like. They could just be together and celebrate a beautiful moment, letting seven hearts beat as one.

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

That night, Sirius awoke to the sound of screaming.

He was on his feet in an instant, letting the shock of nighttime cold wake him up as he pulled on the nearest clothes he could reach and buckled his sword around his waist before throwing the door between rooms open. “James! James, get up!”

“I’m up, but I don’t know where Mum and Dad are.” James’ face was gray with fear as he ran in from the adjacent room, an arrow already nocked in his bow. The acrid smell of smoke burned Sirius’ nose as he forced his own door open and barely avoided the huge hooves of a terrified horse as it bolted for the woods.

“Where would they go?” he asked over the noise, drawing his sword. Flames licked the huge wooden wall that surrounded the front of the city and sent huge plumes of ash into the cool air; the men and wolves that ran along the top had become smudges of shadow in the chaos.

“I don’t know, I heard wood splintering and—” James swung around suddenly and sent his arrow into the neck of a black-clad man with a dagger who was chasing down a young milkmaid. Sirius took his place at James’ back on instinct—they had never fought in an actual battle before, but he knew where he needed to be.

“I don’t see them anywhere.” Sirius scanned the crowd and knocked an arrow aside with the flat of his sword. He could taste the bitter adrenaline on his tongue and teeth as it raced through his veins.

The gate shuddered and groaned as more raiders pour through the bottleneck, roaring incoherent battle cries. A hand closed around Sirius’ bicep and he whirled around, already bringing his sword down in a deadly arc, only for it to be blocked by another blade. “You have to leave right now!” Remus shouted, lowering his sword.

“We have to find my parents!” James argued, picking off another raider on the wall.

Cold fear oozed down Sirius’ spine. “Where are the others?”

“In a secret passage in the woodpile. Marlene and Dorcas couldn’t find their parents, either.” Remus sheathed his sword and grabbed James’ elbow, tugging them both toward a mound by the edge of the woods.

That’s no coincidence, Sirius thought. Three sets of royals going missing in the heat of an ambush?

He knew he only had two options: he could take James and look for the people who had protected him in his hour of greatest need, possibly getting them all killed in the process, or he could protect his newfound friends as they fled a doomed city. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but he wasn’t sure they were from the smoke.

“Let go of me!” James snarled as Sirius grabbed him around the waist and hauled him toward the passage. Remus ran ahead and held the cover aside, revealing Lily, Peter, Marlene, and Dorcas huddled together in the dark. “Sirius, get the fuck off me!”

“Follow the passage and take a left at the first fork,” Remus ordered, chancing a look over his shoulder as he pushed them all back. “It’ll take a day or two, but you’ll end up at the border to the Middle Kingdom. Lily, can you take it from there?”

“I can.” Lily’s grip tightened on her axe.

“Good.”

Horrible understanding seized Sirius’ heart and he grabbed Remus’ hand. “You’re not coming with us?”

Remus looked down at their hands, then up at Sirius’ face. “This is my home. I can’t just—”

“Remus!” All seven of them jumped as King Lyall emerged from the fray, his sword drawn and bloody. “What are you still doing here? Take them to safety!”

“What?” Remus dropped Sirius’ hand and rocked back like he’d been hit. “I’m staying here to fight.”

“No, you need to lead them out of Frystmark.”

“I will not abandon my people,” he said, his voice breaking. “Da, please, I won’t leave you.”

“You must.” Lyall reached forward and cupped Remus’ cheek. “I am so proud of you. Fight hard. Be brave.” Noise erupted behind him as the gate crashed down in a fiery blaze and raiders flooded into the city.

“Da, you can’t—” Remus’ plea cut off as Lyall lifted his sword and, with a last look to his son, charged into the fray.

After a few thundering heartbeats of silence, Dorcas reached out and touched Remus’ elbow. “We need to go.”

He looked down at them, his beautiful amber eyes drowning in terror and despair, then back at Varghal. He’s going to stay, Sirius thought. He’s going to stay and he’s going to die. Remus took a deep, shaking breath and turned around, pushing the seven of them into the tunnel.

Sirius could still hear the direwolves howling as the night enveloped them.

[marveloussupernerd]

Hiya! This is my first time requesting a matchup so I'm pretty excited for this! I'm 16 and an INTJ. I can be aloof and cold at first glance but once I get comfortable, I become more confident, sassy with self-roasting comments (lol). I like reading horror novels, writing stories, drinking coffee, and confusing people with random facts at the wrong moment. I am a procrastinator so anyone can find me reading self-inserts fanfics instead of doing math homework. thank you!

Hi! Thanks for requesting! My sister and I do these matchups together and it’s like our favorite activity.

I ship you with Saeran Choi/Ray!

Saeran is not intimidated by you being cold at first. In fact he is too

So he figures that once he gets to know you better, you’ll open up more bc... he’s the same way

He’s so determined to get to know you. Doesn’t want to overwhelm you at first, but sends you a few messages everyday so that you know he’s thinking of you

Mans is the KING of self deprecating humor

Everyone else would be so concerned that you were upset when you make these jokes

“Are you okay?”

But Saeran gets you

“Lol same”

When it’s just you two alone though he makes sure you know that whatever you drag yourself over is absolutely not true

He prefers horror movies to horror novels bc a book is a lot of commitment

So if you read something with a movie adaptation you KNOW you’re gonna have a movie night

He wishes you’d be more scared by these movies though so he could hold you

If a book is really good he will definitely read it so that you have something to talk about!

Is shy when you first mention you write

Because he really wants to read it but he knows that your writing is personal and you might not want to share

Lowkey pouts when you spend time writing

“Saeran, you can read it if you really want to...”

He drops everything to read it

Comments EVERYWHERE if you write it online

Like even if you don’t post it, he puts comments on the google doc or whatever you write on

Complimenting your word usage, or just straight up being passionate about how you write the characters

He’s not really a coffee person

Tries to make some for you but somehow it literally never works out

How can he burn coffee that many times

He makes you coffee every morning and you don’t have the heart to tell him he’s doing it wrong

He’s so proud of it tho so you drink it anyways

You have developed a taste for burnt coffee

Saeran has a short attention span

So when you bring up a random fact he spirals into a rant about said fact

Forgets what he was talking about in the first place

You like bringing up these random facts to distract him if he’s upset/sad about something

Does not mind that you read fanfics at all

Some guys are weird abt their girls reading fanfic idk why

Just makes him want to be an even better boyfriend than the ones in the fics

He tries to get you to do your homework though, he really does

Takes your phone from you if you’ve been procrastinating for a few hours

Sits next to you to make sure you do your homework

But like, then you get distracted by him so does it really work? No.

But honestly he doesn’t mind the attention

You guys usually end up staying up late to make sure you get the homework done because you both got so distracted

Him learning how to do this math is so funny to me

Bc like... his schooling was certainly unconventional

So of course he doesn’t know what side-angle-side means why would he know that why is it important to be able to calculate parts of a triangle

I guess you’re more encouraged to do homework now because you’ve gotta teach him

He really treasures you and how you’re helping him adjust to a normal life :’)

[main-to-card-games-and-pain]

IronDad Bingo 6: Merpeople

Oh wow it’s been a while eh? I have missed writing IronDad, maybe that’s why this one is THE LONGEST OF THEM ALL. Also, this AU was straight up ridiculously fun to write. I wish I could do a full on fic for it. Please tell me what you thought of it, and what square you want me to do next! Also, please, please, please, do not be shy with my inbox, I love hearing from you all and responding to all the HCs or otherwise you send me! <3 

The water rippled with anticipation as the young merman approached the surface. He wanted to break the glass, press upwards and destroy the resistance, bridge the two worlds of Above and Below. 

His fingers stretched till they tickled the surface before hastily retracting. His eyes adjusted to the sun, it was so much brighter up there than Below. He wanted to feel warmth, true warmth, unlike the kind below the water, but he couldn’t. 

Above was forbidden. 

Peter flipped over in the water, letting his tail scrape the edge, he’d yet to ever pierce the surface. 

The youngling had to go soon, Tony was expecting him and he couldn’t risk staying still for too long and letting a human spot him. 

The waters around him were turquoise blue and perfectly crystal, and while Peter did love to admire its beauty staying too close to the surface was dangerous because even human eyes could see to a certain degree under the water. 

He wished that Above wasn’t so infested with humans, Peter hated them; humans killed his parents, they murdered them in cold blood. 

That’s why he lived with Tony now, the Royal Prince of Innovation had found him as an infant and taken him in. He’d basically grown up with the Prince as his father, but he didn’t call him that (sometimes he wished he did). 

Tony Stark was aloof, as far as mermen go. He didn’t like going out for grand parties and celebrations like the other royals did. Peter knew that at some point in his past he did, but not anymore. Now, he kept to himself, making new inventions for the kingdom and trying to stay out of the public’s eye. 

As far as guardians go though, Mr.Stark was great; he did his best and always had, he didn’t really show conventional affection but he always made sure Peter knew that he was looking out for him and that he had worth. It was just… when your mate dies it can be hard to find love again, of any kind, even for a child. Peter understood.  

Ms.Potts was killed by humans too. 

Peter dove downwards, leaving the surface and its mysteries behind him. 

“Hi, Mr.Stark,” Peter called as he entered their dwelling, casually slipping himself into the lab. “Sorry, I’m late, I got caught up in something.” 

He found the Prince where he always found him, bent over a lab bench, slaving over his newest project. The room was brightly lit, made completely of sandstone and equipped with all the latests innovations. (Peter knew it was nothing like the brightness of the sun.) Tony’s red-scaled tail still glimmered, casting iridescent threads of light over the lab. The blue mechanical scales he’d developed for himself glowed brightly against the glimmering tones of red.

“Where were you ‘getting caught up in something’ kid?” The inventor didn’t look up from his newest invention but Peter knew he could feel the vibrations in the water, giving his position in the lab away. 

“I was out exploring, same as always.” 

“Wandering around the borders doesn’t count as exploring, Peter.” His voice was stern but the youngling knew Mr.Stark was hiding a grin. 

“It does if I’ve never been there before,” Peter retorted, grinning cheekily. He swished over to the lab bench, peering over his guardian’s shoulder. “Whatcha working on?”

Tony grunted, “improved formula for the structural regeneration compound we developed last year.” 

Frowning, Peter looked over his notes. “Does it not work?” 

“Oh no, it works, but apparently the regeneration is taking longer than expected.” Tony rolled his eyes, Peter smirked. 

“They do know it would take double the amount of time without the current formula right?” 

“Of course they do, but ‘everything can be improved upon,’” Tony quoted, pretending to gag. “It’s not like I’ve got problems of my own, like rearing a foolhardy youngling for one.” 

“Hey,” Peter protested, “it’s just a stupid technicality that I’m still considered a youngling, the Age of Maturity should really be 80, not 85. Like really, what’s up with that?” 

“Ask Howard, kid, maybe he’ll do something about it. Also, that’s what you’re arguing? Your age and not the foolhardiness?” 

“Well I mean, there’s salient evidence for that one, so as a scientist I cannot dispute it.” Tony almost let himself grin, the corners of his lip twitching in amusement. “Besides,” the kid grumbled, “Howard doesn’t like me.” 

Tony stilled, casting a glance at his ward. “He doesn’t like me much either, kid, don’t worry about it.” 

“I wish my tail looked more like yours,” Peter mumbled, flicking himself away from the bench to float just above Tony’s head. “Yours is so beautiful.” 

“You don’t want your tail to be like mine,” Tony bit, “they’re damaged.” Tony had completely abandoned the project at this point, angling himself completely at his ward. 

Peter wouldn’t meet his eyes, already regretting his words. He hated reminding Mr.Stark of the attack that had claimed his mate and the functionality of about 40% of his scales and therefore tail. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” the boy whispered, “it’s just - I don’t know - Howard sees my tail and I think it reminds him I’m not supposed to be here.” 

Peter’s tail alternated blue and red every other scale; blue from his birth parents and red from Tony. Adopted children were easy to pick out in Below, since scales developed their colour half from upbringing and half from the merfolk’s bloodline. 

“I went my whole life trying to make Howard happy Peter,” Tony muttered, “I don’t want you wasting yours caring what he thinks. You belong here because I said so.” 

Peter nodded stiffly and bid his guardian goodbye, gently swimming away. 

Once he was sure Peter’s vibrations had faded Tony banged his hands against his workbench angrily. Peter deserved so much better than Tony had ever given him and - fuck - he was trying but he didn’t know what to do to make himself show Peter how much he loved him. 

“You belong here because you’re my son” was what he should’ve- wanted to - say. 

Peter moved languidly through the water, lost in his thoughts. He felt the ripples of the other residents of the palace as they moved around him, no one giving him a second glance. It was basically an unspoken rule that every one should ignore the Prince’s whelp. 

That’s why Peter wasn’t expecting something to collide into his path. Or not something, someone. 

“Oh, I, uh, I’m sorry!” The youngling squeaked, head whipping up to see who he’d knocked into. And of course, because Peter Luck, it was Howard Stark; King of Below. “Your Majesty!” Peter fell into a bow. “My most sincere apologies.” 

“Oh, it’s you, boy,” Howard sneered, making no effort to hide his displeasure at the youngling’s presence. “I haven’t seen you around lately, you’ve grown.” 

Howard hadn’t seen Peter since he was 80, Peter was 83 now. To be fair, Peter avoided the king just as much as the king despised him. 

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Peter whispered. 

“It wasn’t necessarily a compliment.” Peter stayed silent, his head bowed. He flinched when Howard’s arm wrapped itself around his shoulder. “I’m just joking, smile a bit. You have, after all, been under my son’s wing for… what? Seventy years now?” 

“Seventy-five, my lord.” 

“Yes…” Howard started moving again, dragging Peter with him. “He’s had you for quite some time now.” 

“He’s the only parent I’ve ever known, sire.” 

The pair abruptly stopped. Peter’s breath hitched. 

“He’s not your parent, boy.” Peter grimaced as the king tightened his grip uncomfortably around his shoulders. “He may have taken you in like a stray but he is not your father. Just because he was mourning his mate and the unborn whelp in her womb and decided to do something stupid like keep you does not make you family, you do not belong here and you are most certainly no heir of mine,” Howard hissed cruelly. 

Peter nodded quickly, trying to control the tears spilling from his eyes. 

“Now leave me,” Howard commanded, “I grow bored of your presence.” 

Peter didn’t hesitate to obey. Howard’s words stayed with him though, and not only his cruel remarks aimed at the youngling but “the unborn whelp in her womb”; Mr.Stark had never told Peter Ms.Potts was with child when she was lost. 

“Peter,” Mr.Stark’s voice made Peter flinch in surprise. 

Mr.Stark never came to Peter’s room, what was going on? It was Peter’s little sanctuary, he spent a majority of his time either here, in the lab, or out watching the surface. It was turquoise like the water near Above, and large enough for whatever Peter may want, filled with equipment for various hobbies. 

“Sir?” Peter surveyed his guardian for any hints that something may be wrong. “Was there something you needed?” 

“You weren’t at midday meal, kid, I wondered where you were,” Tony answered. The Prince swam past the entrance and further into his chambers, taking the seat next to his ward. He could see it unsettled the youngling to see his guardian here and felt his heart clench at the fact. 

“I-I just got distracted and lost track of time. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” 

Peter eyed his guardian warily, thoroughly confused and still shaken from his encounter with the king. 

“I’m okay,” the boy swallowed. Tony’s eyes flickered to what he was working on and flashed his eyes with recognition. 

“Got caught up in drawing?” He asked warmly, shuffling through some of the papyrus drawings strewn about Peter’s desk. 

“Yes,” Peter murmured, turning his head away from his guardian. 

Tony looked through a few more of the drawings, admiring Peter’s talent for realism, when he noticed something in one of them. The Prince felt his blood turn to ice in his veins. 

“Peter,” his voice was suddenly tight, Peter looked at him worriedly, glancing at the revealing drawing. “What is this?” 

Peter’s mouth dropped as if to answer, but Tony cut him off before he got the chance. 

“Because it looks like those are sun-etchings, and that looks the surface line.” 

There was nothing Peter could say to dispute the claims. The lines the sun made underwater, the so called sun-etchings were there, plain as day, as was the line where the surface split a rock into two worlds. And for someone to see those two things they had to be exceptionally close to Above. 

“I’ve never touched Above, I swear,” Peter rushed. 

Mr.Stark’s eyes flashed, “Peter,” he hissed. “You know the law.” 

“I just said that I’ve never-”

“Our border ends at the Line of Visibility!” 

“I was just curious-”

“No. No, I do not want to hear your excuses right now. You could be whipped for this.” 

“You’re going to tell Howard?” Peter’s breathing picked up, panic creeping into his heart. His gills fluttered frantically, tellingly.  

“You think I would tell Howard about this? Poseidon Peter, no, I’m not going to tell Howard. But  this is serious, what possessed you to even think about going up there? Humans could have seen you, you could have been killed.” 

“Don’t you want to know what the sun feels like? Don’t you think it’s beautiful?” Peter was desperate for Tony to agree with him, empathize with him, he couldn’t handle another reminder that he was the freak of them all here.

“No,” Tony hissed, “I don’t care what it looks or feels like up there, and from this day on neither do you.” 

“Mr.Stark, please,” Peter begged, his eyes growing wide with desperation. 

“No,” Tony roared. Peter flinched and a stab of guilt drove through the inventor’s gut, he took a few breaths and lowered his voice. “No. Consider this your one and only warning, you are not to go anywhere near Above again, I am not losing another-”

“Another what?” Peter found his anger and cut his guardian off. “I know I was meant to be some kind of replacement but that obviously didn’t work out, so what am I?” 

His words shocked Tony into silence, his mouth gaping open. “Peter - what?” 

“I know that Ms.Potts was going to have a baby, but she… and then you found me and I was what? Some kind of second prize? Supposed to replace what you lost? And then you obviously figured out that I wasn’t the son you wanted so you just - I don’t know - figured you’d keep me around until I reached the Age and your obligations would be finished?” 

“No Peter, that’s not-”

“Would you have kept me if you hadn’t just lost your own family?” 

“I…” Tony wanted to deny everything, grab Peter and hold him as tight as possible, and express years of love to him right there. But he didn’t. He stayed silent, searching for words that wouldn’t come. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Before Mr.Stark could stop him Peter had launched away from his desk and slipped through his window, swimming away with powerful tail-strokes, leaving bubbles in his frantic guardian’s wake. 

Tony had gone after Peter as soon as he’d snapped out of his stupor, but even that minuscule amount of time was enough to give Peter enough of a head start that the Prince had to guess where he’d gone. 

And shamefully he admitted he had almost no clue, he really was a terrible guardian. 

Until it occurred to him that Peter might have gone back to the origin of this entire debacle, Above. He clutched the drawing close to his chest and swam upwards, looking for that specific rock formation. 

The inventor could feel the moment he passed through the Line of Visibility, like a cord had been cut and he was left vulnerable and scared and too close to Above. 

“Tony!” His wife’s voice, screaming in panic, scrambling for a hold on his arm. 

“Pepper get back!” 

And he was in the human contraption, the net, it was tearing at his scales and it hurt, it hurt so much- it was excruciating. 

Pepper’s hand caught his and his mind cleared, replaced with all-consuming fear as she put herself in harm’s way. She was trying to tear the net with her fingers, her green tail spasming with the effort. 

“Pepper, no! Get back! Swim-!”

She gasped, and for a second everything was still okay, and then the water started to turn red. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her grip was suddenly lax in Tony’s. 

“No, no, no, no, Pep. Pep come on, you’re okay, you’re okay, right? TELL ME YOU’RE OKAY.” 

But she wasn’t, they killed her, they killed his wife; speared her in the back mercilessly, like she was an animal. 

Tony returned to himself with a gasp, dilated eyes focussing on his surroundings. He’d been dreaming of that day for seventy-nine years now, but they’d morphed in the past seventy to include Peter, his son. 

Who he needed to find, right now. 

Tony felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders when he spotted Peter’s tell-tail red and blue scales reflecting in the water. 

“Peter!” The kid looked up from his place on the sandy ocean floor, where he was laying and watching the surface ripple. There was no sun today, but it wasn’t nighttime for the humans either. A steep drop-off was a few metres to his left, Tony wanted desperately to pull him down it and past the Line of Visibility again. 

Instead he bit back his fear and approached the youngling, setting himself beside him against the sand. 

“You scared me kid,” he breathed. 

“Sorry,” Peter mumbled, not turning to face Tony. “You can’t tell me it isn’t beautiful,” he whispered. “Look at it.” 

Tony looked. 

It was beautiful, unlike anything you could find in Below, he remembered why he and Pepper had been so close to the surface that day. 

“You’re right.” Peter, who was expecting more arguing, whipped his head to look at Tony. “I’m sorry for how I reacted, Pete, I just-”

“What’s that?” 

Peter was looking over his shoulder, at something behind him. The youngling sat up and began swimming over to it curiously. Tony glanced backwards and felt panic unlike any he’d felt in seventy-nine years. 

The looming mass of darkness was a ship. 

Tony shot off after his kid, a desperate shout escaping his throat. “Peter, no!” 

Maybe it was his tone, or the volume, but Peter listened. He stopped and turned toward Tony just as the net was launched at him. 

Tony remembered the pain of his scales being ripped away from his tail, Peter would not feel that pain. He reached the youngling just in time, wrapping his arms around his chest and forcing him away from the net with his body. He panted with exertion, throwing a glance upwards at the ship. 

They were too high up, the humans could see them. “Let’s go kid, we need to swim.” 

Peter nodded, flicking his tail anxiously. Guardian and ward sat up and started to escape by keeping as flat to the ocean floor as they could, but the net came back persistently, and this time Mr.Stark couldn’t save Peter from it. 

The boy let out a terrified scream as he was yanked back, desperately trying to move a tail that wouldn’t move anymore. He’d never had his tail restrained before, it was terrible and it only added to the boy’s panic. 

“Mr.Stark!” Peter was being pulled away from his guardian too quickly, Mr.Stark wasn’t going to be able to catch him, but still he screamed for him. “Mr.Stark, please!” 

“I’m coming, kid, I’m coming,” Mr.Stark called back, and Peter could see how hard Mr.Stark was swimming, but it wasn’t going to be enough. 

Tony was not going to lose his family again. 

He reached the net just as they pulled Peter from out of the water. 

“No!” 

Peter struggled in the net, floundering and tangling himself further in its snare. There was no water, everything dropped so heavily and he couldn’t breathe, his gills were desperately searching for oxygen that they couldn’t get. He couldn’t float, and everything was sticking to him. 

He hit the deck with an impact unlike he’d ever felt before. It was coarse and itchy and something he didn’t know the word for but it hurt because there was no water. 

The net was ripped away and with it a few of Peter’s scales, he bit back the cry that threatened to escape and tried desperately to get back into the water. 

Ropes circled his wrists and pulled them together, and soon his fin was in a similar position, the men yelling things Peter couldn’t understand. His heart pounding in his ears and he couldn’t breathe. 

He wanted Mr.Stark.  

He was going to die. 

Tony burst from the water, in a jump unlike any Peter had seen in his life. He’d once watched dolphins breach the surface, Mr.Stark resembled them except with much more power, and he was infinitely more graceful. 

His guardian landed on the deck amongst the startled shouts of the men, baring his teeth at them while slicing at Peter’s bindings. Peter had the startling realization that the makeshift dagger he used were made of his mechanical scales. He’d pulled them away from his tail and pressed them together into the sharp shape. 

His face betrayed none of the no doubt excruciating agony he must be feeling right now. 

Peter felt himself be released and bolted to the ship’s edge as well as he could. There was an opening he thought he might be able to fit through but Mr.Stark was still- and the humans were closing in and they had weapons… 

“Peter, go,” Mr.Stark screamed, desperation tinging his voice. “Go! Swim!” 

“Mr.Stark, no! I can’t!” 

Something flashed through Peter’s vision, Tony saw it. He remembered what it was, what it did. No. 

He launched himself at Peter, pushing him away and closer to the ship’s opening. 

The spear ripped through Tony’s side. 

Peter screamed. 

The thing is, merfolk’s voices aren’t meant for humans to understand. It sounds otherworldly to them, screeching if they’re in distress and melodious if they’re just talking. A merfolk’s scream? Humans can’t handle it at all. 

Some of the men gasped, holding their heads in pain as their ears bled. Some fell to the deck, dead.  

It was enough to give the mermen enough of a reprieve to slip through the opening. Peter clasped his hands around his guardian and pulled them both through the hole, gasping in relief as gravity carried them back into the water. 

Peter grabbed his father’s hand and swam until he couldn’t swim anymore, until he was completely shrouded in the darkness of Below.

“Mr.Stark?” The boy tentatively tried, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the abyss. “Please say something, Mr.Stark…” 

A ribbon of blood was trailing out of his guardian’s side, along with countless threads from where his mechanical scales had been ripped away. 

Mr.Stark groggily blinked his eyes, to Peter’s relief. “Pe-Peter, you’re okay?” 

Peter nodded, a lump forming in his throat. Mr.Stark smiled, bringing a hand up to Peter’s cheek. “Tha’s good, tha’s all I wanted…” His eyes drifted shut. 

“No,” Peter encouraged, grabbing his hand and pulling him along again, sure that he could get them to the medical wing in time for his guardian to be saved. “No, stay awake with me Mr.Stark. We’ll get you help.” 

“Pet’r,” Tony mumbled, “Pet’r I hav’ t’ tell you, I love you, so, so much. You are my son. ‘m sorry I was so bad a’ showin’ you.”

Tears flowed unbidden from the younglings eyes, his words stolen to make room for his sobs. “I love you too Mr.Stark, please stay with me.” 

Tony nodded his head bonelessly. “I’ll try Pete, wha’ever you want.” 

“Peter.” Peter looked up from his desk, where he’d listlessly been sketching for hours. “Get up.” 

“I don’t feel like doing anything,” he muttered. “I just want to stay here.” 

“You’ll enjoy this.” 

“No, I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“You’ve been cooped up in the palace for three months, you need to get out.” 

“I said I don’t want to.”  

“I’m your father, so unfortunately kid, I get the last say this time.”

Peter’s eyes immediately found the still red scar along Tony’s torso, which was there because of Peter. 

“I don’t want to do anything.” 

“Tough luck this time Pete, because we’re doing this. It’s time you got out of the palace.” 

Of course Tony knew the real reason Peter didn’t want to leave the palace. He knew that his anxiety would increase tenfold whenever he tried, thanks to their little ordeal with the ship. But it wasn’t healthy to let that fester without any healing, he should know. He didn’t want Peter to become like him.

Peter relented, nodding minutely at his guardian and swimming gently towards him. Again, Peter’s eyes found the scar, and then the small scales that had been replaced. He couldn’t see them anymore without thinking about the ship. 

“Close your eyes,” Tony murmured into his ear. “Trust me.” 

Peter complied, letting the Prince slip a blindfold over his eyes and lead him towards their destination. He felt when they left his sanctuary, his gills fluttered in protest. Tony rubbed circles on his back comfortingly until he calmed down and they kept going. 

It seemed like hours before they stopped and Tony removed the blindfold, keeping a gentle grip on Peter as he did. 

Peter soon found out why, because when the blindfold was off his eyes automatically adjusted to how bright it was, and it was bright because-

“No, no, no Mr.Stark I don’t want to be here, I want to go home.” They were near the surface. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Tony hummed into his ear, pulling him into an embrace. “It’s okay.”

“No. No, we need to go, the humans-”

“Can’t find us here.” Tony smiled, watching as Peter’s eyes darted around suspiciously. “It’s a cavern Pete, the top of it is open so we can see the sun, but to humans it just looks like a lot of rocks.” 

This calmed Peter, slightly. 

“W-why are we here,” he asked quietly, “I thought you said-”

“We aren’t making a habit out of this, but I think this is what we both need. Look Pete,” he pointed to a particularly bright spot, streaming through the water. Tony gently guided Peter closer to the surface. “Want to feel the sun?” 

Peter’s eyes widened, his head whipping towards his guardian in shock. Part of him desperately wanted to say yes, parted of him wanted to leave right now and go back as far Below as possible. 

His fingers hesitantly reached for the water line, stretching till they tickled the surface before hastily retracting. 

“No, I don’t want to feel the sun anymore.” 

Tony took his hand softly and guided it towards the surface. “It’s okay Peter.” 

Peter held his breath, letting Tony bring their fingers to the edge of the water. 

The inventor left them there, the final decision left to Peter. 

Together they felt the sunlight. 

taglist: 

@just-the-daydreamer @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @ladyreyreigns  @thetranslucentwallaby @friendly-neighborhood-ash @delphinium2 @the-persian-slipper @shoyzz-art @four-am-fangirling

[cynnied-writes]

Perfect Imperfections

○ paring: kralsei ( kris x ralsei )

○ genre/warnings: pure unadulterated fluff with a bit of angst

○ tags: sunrises | worrying over dates | imperfection | early morning drives | sitting on mountaintops | sweet kisses | sun showers

○ word count: 3.5k

→ summary: ralsei is coming to visit and, after days of deliberation, kris knows exactly where to bring him.

○  note: so this is the kralsei thing I said I was working on over on @cynnied-art. I hope you enjoy!

Kris’ hometown was a barren land of clinical depression and midlife crises. Filled to the brim with literally nothing to do.

And yes, they’ve checked.

All you can do is; eat at the diner, hang out in the school’s playground, stare at the lake for hours… Get a concussion? Soon realize that, in the grand scheme of the universe, nothing you do will ever matter? Oh, there’s also a pizza place that doesn’t technically even serve pizza.

This is the bad place if you were wondering.

For Kris, this was all common knowledge. They had known this since they were twelve. And yet here they were. Still sitting at their computer. Bathed in the pale, artificial glow of the screen at 5 am in the morning. Trying to find something, anything, to do. But, after wasting their finite time on the interwebz, a realization dawned on them. Their search was, in fact, fruitless.

They let out an extended groan. Slumping into their computer chair at the sight of the miles of empty space on Google Maps. This was hopeless. They lived in a tiny town. A tiny town in the middle of nowhere. With the closest city being three long hours away. And if they spent one more minute looking at a screen their eyes would die. 

A softer sigh fell as they pushed away from the desk. Kris stretched as they stood up on wobbly legs. Their bones popping back into place. They exhaled dramatically. Ending the exaggerated motion slouched over like an exhausted Sim.

This was so lame. SO LAME!

Their boyfriend was coming tomorrow and they had nothing special planned. All because of their stupid, boring hometown. Sure, they could laze around on the monkey bars again. Share another milkshake at the diner? Or you know, contemplate the meaning of life for a couple of hours. For the second time. Ralsei wouldn’t mind. But that’s the reason for all the mounting stress.

He wouldn’t care. He’d be happy to spend time with them. The duo could be in the ninth ring of hell and he’d still say it was a pretty good date. He’ll never expect any more than their simple presence. He’s just so…

Perfect.

Too perfect.

And Kris wasn’t. 

Their legs were too long. Hair’s too shaggy. Mannerisms too odd. Mind and soul too fucked up. The immediate willingness to eat moss off a dungeon floor kinda solidified that.

And, yet…

Ralsei still smiled at them with eyes filled with galaxies. Blushed whenever he caught them gazing. Said words that only held a genuine affection. Sang them the kinds of songs only Disney princesses sang to their true loves.

His words might stutter or his lyrics might be on the cheesy side but, man…

These trips to the surface he makes… to visit them? To visit a creepy, loner that could barely hold a conversation? In their mind, there was no other option. His visits had to be special. 

Kris’ feet dragged across their bedroom floor. A hundred percent ready to crash into bed. They shuffled before a strand of light caught them by surprise. Not taking in that tomorrow was now today.

The bright beam stung as Kris ran to close the curtains. Their hands paused, though. Gripping the rough fabric, they peered through the gap between them.

Orange and pink hues blended in the early morning sky. Contrasting against the shadowed tree line, the sun slowly rose. Its rays stretching across the horizon.

Any hint of drowsiness they had slipped into the background. Their soul lost its usual burdensome weight at the sight. Memories from a time almost forgotten reemerged in Kris’ mind.

Sitting high up. So high, it felt like they were in another world. Looking off into the distance. The same orangish colours surrounded them. Cool breezes brought golden leaves with them. Warmth seeped from the knitted scarf around their neck. Warmth seeped from the loved ones who were near. 

Everything was… perfect.

Oh.

In that moment, as they stared out of their window, enchanted by the sunrise, they knew.

They just knew. This was the view Ralsei deserved to see.The two teens snuck out of Kris’ home shy of twenty-four hours later.

The two teens snuck out of Kris’ home shy of twenty-four hours later.

With hands interlocked and fog all around them, they made their way across town. The sharpness of the air filled their noses. They kept their voices hushed and footsteps quick. Up above them the navy blue blanket of the night began to brighten. Slowly changing shades in the sky above.

Ralsei let a yawn escape him.

A few moments ago his steady had the honour of waking his tired form. Though the gesture was as old as time, a heroic knight waking a sleeping princess, this time it wasn’t with a kiss. His knight’s methods involved things like poking his side and harsh whispers. Not exactly fairy tale material but accuracy is a small price to pay.

Especially because he got to experience the wondrous things that are sleepovers. Sleeping in Kris’ room. Sleeping in Kris’ bed. Hogging all the blankets because they smell like sunshine. Kris didn’t seem to appreciate that last one. But, they also didn’t appreciate nice smelling sheets like he did.

Although, one caveat dampened the experience a bit. They had to forgo the “sleeping-in” part of a sleepover. No waking up to strands of light coming from the curtains. No smell of breakfast drifting from downstairs.

Nope, only waking up before the sun was even awake and sneaking through the streets. Like a couple of rapscallions.

Guess he still had much to learn.

Their feet finally crunched on fallen leaves as Kris brought him to the Flower King. Or rather, the side of it. His steady let go of his paw, using their spare hand to rummage through their inventory pockets.

Earlier in the day, Kris had waltzed into their father’s shop. Locked in loaded with a puppy-dog grin and years of unused “child of divorce” brownie points. They also maybe over-exaggerated their driving abilities a bit.

Okay, maybe a lot.

But, nonetheless, his truck would be back in its spot before 9 am and in the exact way he left it. As promised. Most likely. As long as they didn’t have to parallel park at any point.

With a startling beep, their father’s truck unlocked. The duo got in and tried to settle into their seats. Both a bit nervous about the endeavour. Kris more about the actual act of driving and Ralsei about the defiance.

He sank into the worn, leather seats as he began to worry. It was one of his oldest pastimes. His thoughts endlessly spinning worse and worse outcomes of his current situation.

This excursion couldn’t end well, right? There were a thousand different ways it could all go wrong.

Before he could spiral down any further, Ralsei jumped out of his thoughts as the old truck burst to life. The engine began to rumble. All the tiny lights and icons along the dash started flickering. While the soothing tones of John Denver drifted through the radio.

“Are you sure about this, Kris?”

They glanced up from adjusting the driver’s seat height to their size instead of their father’s. They tilted their head as a simple reply.

“Kriiiiiss.” He scolded, understanding their unspoken sentiment. It’s not like he didn’t know they were a teen of few words before they had started dating.

Continuing their silence, Kris’ head only tilted further. Resembling a ninety-degree angle instead of one belonging to a proper steady. Ralsei sighed, “You know what I mean. There’s no way your mother’s going to be okay with this.”

A shrug for a reply.

“How about we go for breakfast at the dinner from the second time I came? Those checkered things we had were pretty tasty. Waffles, right?”

A small grimace, this time.

“Or how about that strange P‘e’zza place? I’ve never had ice pizza before.”

“You’ve never had any kind of pizza before,” Kris said, their voice filled with confusion and disgust. So, now their words came out. Of course. They continued to mutter, “You’re first pizza isn’t gonna be a goddamn Ice P‘e’zza. Not while I’m still breathing.”

Ralsei flashed a small smile as he put his paws up in defence. Soft chuckles falling from his lips.

“It’s just…” He barely said before his sentence trailed off. Gaze turning to the sleeping world outside of his window. Kris reached over to take his paw and intertwined their fingers. Urging him to continue. “I don’t want to cause a fuss, Kris. I don’t want to… Your mother’s going to be so upset if she finds out. She’s going to punish you for an eternity. She’s going to—”

“Be ecstatic.” They said, drawing intricate circles into his fur. “I’m with ‘friends’, remember? She won’t mind.”

“That excuse isn’t going to work forever.”

Kris’ hand lingered with his as their head settled forwards. Staring off into the foggy woods. Easily drifting into deep thought.

Sure, it was a matter of when and not if their mother would ever figure out what was going on. No doubt. There was only so long she could believe whatever she wanted to believe. But, that day wasn’t today and thus that was a problem for future Kris, not them.

That kid’s fucked.

Themselves on the other hand? Present Kris? They had something spectacular to show their lonely prince. No strict rules or possible eternal damnation was going to stop them.

“Don’t worry, Rals.” They drawled as they took their prince’s fluffy face into their hands. “Future Kris’ got it handled.”

Now it was Ralsei’s turn to do the head tilting. His words coming out as jumbled as the thoughts in his head.

“Future Kri—What do you—? Futur—? Are you—?” He almost finished a single thought before Kris ducked under his hat and gently kissed his cheek.

They pulled back, flashed him a quick finger-gun-smirk combo, and put the truck into reverse. Letting out a chuckle as his love pulled up his scarf and down his hat. Hopelessly trying to cover his blush.

His steady was weird. A good kind of weird, though.

One that urged them to word for word recite the passage ‘Alas, Poor Yorick’ for no reason. The kind that allowed them to remember the rules to a satanic ritual but not the order of operations. A special kind of weird that caused them to resign to shackle themselves to a dungeon wall and eat floor moss.

They were all things he loved about them but, they were weird nonetheless.

Don’t get him wrong, he’s eternally grateful for Kris falling that day. He thanks the pillar of darkness every day. But, it’s just that any kind of kisses from them was so overwhelming. The simple act causing his cheeks to match his scarf’s hue. Though, he never complained because they also always calmed him like magic.

Why was being in love was so complicated?

Luckily, it was less complicated than driving. Of which the basic mechanics were entirely lost to him.

The truck jostled along the dirt road. Its headlights the illuminating the surrounding foggy woods as they went.

Kris’ knuckles had turned white a few miles back. Changing shades as they had turned off of paved streets and onto rougher terrain. Through their shaggy bangs, lidded eyes had never once deviated from the road. Perhaps they were being too cautious. Too wary. But, how could they not be? They were carrying the most precious cargo.

At just the thought of him, their eyes flicked to Ralsei curled up on his seat. Gaze settled outside his window. Intently watching the world rush by. Yawning every so often.

A small smile graced their face. They leaned back in their seat and released some of the tension in their fingers. Settling into a focused-yet-more-relaxed driving mode.

The road ahead got tighter as it began to curve. Letting them ‘round the side of one of Appalachia’s many mountains. Engine rumbling as they went. Luckily, for them, the truck had made this trip several times. Though they hadn’t been in the driver’s seat.

Glimpses of the past revealed themselves as their destination grew closer. A dozing Asriel sitting beside them. Eyes and head drooping as he fought back the dastardly enemy that was sleep. Their parents in the front seats, both humming along to the turned down the radio.

That’s when they saw it.

A nice patch of the mountainside overlooked valleys below. Tall, wild grass with flowers sprouting up in patches. They pulled up. Easing the truck to a full stop a couple meters from the optimal gazing spot.

Their whole body relaxed, finally. Head lolling back onto the headrest. Letting out a breath and closing their eyes. Knowing they made the trip here safely.

“We’re here?” Ralsei asked, yawning as his bones cracked while he stretched.

They threw him a lazy thumbs-up and clicked their tongue. Catching his yawn before holding out a hand, “Specs, please.”

His head and eyebrows cocked at their request. The urge to ask at least several questions rising in him. But, knowing Kris, they wouldn’t answer any of them.

With a sigh, he let the world turn blurry as he handed his glasses away. Soon after, scarred digits took a hold of his scarf, pulling it loose. Guiding it from his neck to cover his eyes. Before the world went dark as they tied a tight knot at the back.

Now, sound and touch were all he had to go on. Kris’ soft hum once they were finished tying. The clicks of their seat belts unbuckling and the whirring of them gliding back into place. A thunk as their door of the truck swung open. Another as his side opened.

Their hands guiding him out of the vehicle and over to an unknown spot. The dewy grass under his paws and roundness of the air. And finally, the familiar weight of his glasses returning.

He blinked once and then twice before his jaw dropped.

A golden world awaited him.

The sky he had fawned over weeks prior seemed so much more expansive. Stretching from the ends of the earth, blanketing everything around them in a warm hue. Streaks of orange, red, and yellow danced along it. Like a painter’s brush strokes. All independent at times. Before blending together to make the wondrous painting in front of him. Light, fluffy clouds lazily drifted across the background.

And in the center of it all?

A thing, once upon a time, he’d never thought he’d get to see.

The Lightners’ brightest star.

No, it was his too now.

Their brightest star. Their most prized possession rose from the horizon. Slowly but surely making its way to its throne in the heavens. Lighting up their little corner of the world. Not that he could quite remember it wasn’t just him and the celestial body. No, as he gazed upon the sun and a wave of serenity washed over him, it felt like there was no one else left on Earth.

Wait, there was someone else with them.

Ralsei pulled his sight away from his new friend to his real-life company. His silent knight.

Kris sat close beside. Their form bathed in the rays as they sprawled out in the tall grass. Golden light illuminating their whole body. Creating a god-like glow around them. At last, they seemed to be at peace. Then, as their head lolled back, their long bangs fell to either side. Revealing the gems they kept hidden from the world.

An occurrence rarer than any blue moon.

Maroon irises admired the painting before them. They were filled with something he couldn’t quite place. Contentment? Amazement? Nostalgia? Whatever it was, when their eyes drifted from the sunrise over to him, it was still there.

Oh…

Perhaps it was love.

He still had to come to terms with that fact. That somebody alive and sentient loved him. Somebody as wonderful as Kris loved a wreck like him. A tiny ball of nerves and anxiety. Terrified of falling too fast and too hard. Being too needy. Too much much of a bother. Being too… everything. And not being what Kris needed.

But,

They never seemed to mind.

They always were an attentive listener to all his rambling but, always knew the right time to stop him. Lest he enters a perpetually downward spiral.

They were one hundred percent willing to become the hero that he needed. Not questioning ludicrous, reality breaking implications for anything he told them.

And when they were ready, Kris would talk for hours.

About stories from when they were younger.

Barely believable conspiracy theories.

Loosely connected thoughts stringed together profoundly.

They were just so perfect.

And this, the sneaking out in the early morning, the quiet drive, and the sunset. It was all just so…

Perfect.

Kris reached out and laced their fingers together again. Pulling him out of his thoughts. Right on time as always. They gazed at him with, his throat tightened, love-filled eyes. Their usual neutral expression replaced with upturned lips and those softened gems.

Oh, darkness, don’t cry.

Don’t cry, Ralsei.

Don’t cry.

Don’t—

Dammit.

“Kris,” He choked out as tears began to well. They threatened to fall and ruin this perfect moment. Kris’ perfect moment for him. No, he had to pull himself together. “This is, this is. It’s…”

Yep, stuttering is a surefire sign of someone who’s totally not on the verge of a breakdown. So embarrassing. SO EMBARRASSING!

“Rals,” They began softly. Eyes squinting as they searched for the right words. “It’s… okay. Tears of joy, right? It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Not helping. Not helping at all.

“Oh, damn it all.” He cursed as he mustered up all the courage he had. Within the second, he bounded over to his steady. His beloved hat falling to the wayside as he wrapped his arms around them. Burrowing his nose into their neck. Inhaling their piney scent as he blurted out, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

The two stayed like that for a while. Enjoying each other’s body heat and tight holds. But, all good things must come to an end. And this good thing ended once he pulled back. Quickly realizing their current position.

His arms rested linked on their shoulders as he sat in their lap. And with their hands settled on his hips, their bodies were close.

Super close.

Close enough for a… kiss?

Yes, Kris thought as their hand made its way up to his cheek. Close enough to stare into his galaxies for eyes. Close enough to breathe the same air. Close enough for his head to block out the morning sun. Creating a glowing halo around him.

Definitely close enough.

Also, definitely a perfect way to punctuate their date.

But, alas,

Mother Nature had another idea in mind.

“Was that a raindrop?” Ralsei blinked and shook the excess wetness off of his snout. He rose from their lap to scan the horizon. Brows furrowed as he adjusted his glasses, “But, there aren’t any clouds?”

Despite the obvious lack of cloud coverage, rain began to pour down on them.

Kris, reluctantly, got to their feet. Their fingers ran through their messy brown locks as they closed their eyes. At least they got their sunrise.

With a deep sigh, they called out to their love, “We… should get back. Sorry about this.”

“Why?” Their eyes shot open at his question. That’s when they saw him. Spinning around on the balls of his feet as his giggles resounded through the air. His arms swung and legs kicked as he jaunted around the field. “This is amazing! How weird is this! Raining while the sun’s still shining! I’ve never heard of this. What is this, Kris?”

Oh.

My.

God.

He wasn’t upset?

“Sun showers,” They answered like a ditz. Their mind still running wild. Trying to comprehend how he could be this happy about it raining on their perfect date. “They, uh, happen sometimes. You don’t want to go?”

“No! I love it!” Hat long forgotten, he ran up to them, eyes a glow. Hands outstretched until they intertwined with theirs. “Dance with me!”

It was less of a question and more of a demand, not that they minded though. With all his might, Ralsei swung them around the wild grass. Dancing something between the waltz and a folksy jig. Loudly humming out a familiar tune. Soon, their laughs joined his humming. Until both faded and only the gentle beats of the rain were left.

They were close once more.

Super close.

Now or never.

Kris straightened their back and cleared their throat before asking, “Do you, maybe, want to—”

“Yes.” He cut them off, a look of pure unadulterated love on his face.

And then, they did it.

They kissed.

It technically wasn't a perfect kiss. The rain continued to beat down. Their now soaked clothes uncomfortably clung to their bodies. His fur wasn’t as soft and fluffy as it usually was. It was more damp and kinda spiky. Their skin somehow felt sweaty and tight. But,

None of that mattered.

Nope. Not to them.

Somehow, like everything else about the two of them, it was perfect.

Perhaps, their imperfections were what’s perfect.

At least to them.

And in the end, isn’t that the only thing that matters?

The End!!

I hope you've enjoyed reading this. If you did, any kind of comment would be appreciated! 

I've been working on it for a loooong time. Just glad it's all finished! Finally, I'm free!

[likethetailofacomet]

Before the Storm

A/N: How does the revelation of Erika’s true identity change things for everyone? Can they all get though the final hours of the social season without another visit from the devils? And who is the seventh devil? 

Pairings: Drake x Claire (MC), Liam x Kiara

Word Count: 4,560- sorry this one got away from me! 

Liam sat in his study alone. The air was full of tension and the ticking of a mantle clock, thick with uncertainty and something shy of shock but more than expectation. He turned his chair to face the window behind his desk, staring out at the kingdom he would inherit roughly twelve hours from now. His father had dropped that bomb on him immediately after the news about Erika had leaked. King Constantine’s public image couldn’t take a hit like an alleged out of wedlock daughter that he refused to have a relationship with, and rather than continue to taint the name Rhys, he had chosen to relinquish his title, his crown, his responsibility to his son. Liam was always going to become King, this he knew. But the plan was for Constantine to rule for another five years to allow Liam more time to settle in to the role, and to allow him time to settle in to the marriage he would be entering in sooner rather than later. He sighed, thinking to himself that he’d need to tell Kiara before the ball that evening- he was going to choose her to be his Queen, and she had the right to know how immediately she’d be stepping into her new role. He wasn’t worried. He knew that Lady Kiara was an excellent choice for the country given her political knowledge, her diplomatic upbringing, love of culture and ability to speak fluently in several languages. He allowed a small amount of warmth to enter his heart as he pictured her face during his announcement; pictured the way she’d smile and the way her dark eyes would shine like onyxes as she stepped to his side. At least he’d been lucky enough to have feelings for the woman he was choosing as his bride, unlike many of his ancestors.

He watched the sun come up, glinting off of the lake in the distance, off the gilded dome of the Cathedral that was just visible past the palace grounds, drinking his coffee slowly. This was the last day he would spend as a Prince, and the first day he’d spend questioning every aspect of his relationship with his father and Regina. That they knew he and Leo had a sister and never shared it simply because of her social status made him second guess everything they’d ever told him, everything he’d ever thought about them. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to imagine how Erika must have felt, knowing who she was; knowing that Constantine couldn’t even spare her an hour to answer 30 years’ worth of questions. He felt a pang of longing, thinking about how he had another sibling in the world- how he’d had another sibling all his life and had been denied the chance to know her, and how now it was likely too late. She’d chosen to throw her lot in with the rebels, and Liam honestly couldn’t blame her. The glint of the sun changed angles as the glowing orb rose higher over his kingdom, shining in his eye and blinding him. He squinted against it and rose from his chair as the citizens beyond the window rose from their beds to read the news that had thrown yet another wrench in his social season.

Bastien had woken him at quarter after five in the morning, pounding on his door to call him for an emergency meeting with his father. It was that meeting where Liam learned of Erika, of Constantine’s knowledge and denial of her, of her involvement with the Seven Devils and what that might mean for the ball that evening. He’d gaped, open mouthed at his father as he nodded and admitted that Erika Manderly was in fact his child, conceived during a fling with one of the suitors he hadn’t chosen when he was in Liam’s shoes. Liam shook his head, disappointment filling the space between his ears and the cavity of his ribs. He couldn’t imagine denying his own child, his own flesh and blood simply because they had a different last name- simply because he had been careless in his actions and had relied on his own status to erase the mistake for him. “Who are you, father?” Liam asked the man before him, his eyes narrow and his lips pressed thinly together. Constantine didn’t have an answer. Instead he looked sadly at his son before rolling his head to the side to look out the window. He sighed and Liam supposed that he felt some remorse over how everything had gone, but he wasn't ready to forgive his father.

“Liam, your father did what he thought was right.” Regina's voice suddenly sounded foreign to him. Where he once looked at her as a mother, now he didn’t know how he could ever see her that way again. A mother wouldn't do what she'd done. A father wouldn't. He didn't dignify her words with a response, simply turned to Bastien, ignoring the fact that the two most powerful people in the country were in the room.

“Where is Leo? Does he know?” It was clear to Liam that Bastien had no prior knowledge of Erika's existence from the tone of his voice and the angle of his eyebrows as he spoke. It was clear to Liam that he could trust Bastien.

Bastien cleared his throat before answering. “Prince Leo was on his way back to Cordonia for this evening's events,” he paused to spare Liam a sympathetic glance, knowing that Liam had been looking forward to seeing his brother, to having him there while he chose his Queen, and now that things had changed, while he he became crowned as King. “But with the new developments,” his eyes flicked over towards the King, still gazing empty-eyed out the window, before returning to meet Liam's. “I've contacted his security detail, and they've changed their travel plans. I'm sorry, your highness, but Prince Leo won't be in attendance tonight.” He left the next part unsaid, but Liam knew what he wasn't saying: We can't have the entire Rhys family in one place. Even though Leo had abdicated his claim, passing his birth rite to Liam, Cordonian Law would require him to resume his place in the line of succession in the event that there were no living heirs.

A shiver went through Liam's spine, but he nodded. “And we're certain that his location is secure? Can I,” he sighed and let his shoulders fall a little, releasing some of the tension, knowing that it would be back seconds later. “Am I able to speak with my brother?”

Bastien blinked, trying not to let any pity show through his gaze. “I'm sorry, your highness, I think it would be best to keep communication to an absolute minimum until after the ball this evening. That way we won't risk any phone lines being tapped or information being intercepted.” He put a hand on Liam's shoulder and the two men locked eyes. “I know there are,” he flicked his eyes back to the King and Queen, both wearing a look that asked How did this all come crashing down on us? He shook his head almost imperceptibly. “I know there are things that you need to discuss with your brother. As soon as the event has concluded, I will have a secure line ready for you to speak with Prince Leo.” Liam sucked in a breath as he thought about what the conclusion of the evening's events would mean: his engagement, his coronation. He'd be King. And all without Leo's presence.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, that's...that's good, Bastien. Thank you.” He shook the man's hand and the meeting wrapped up with Bastien excusing himself to see to all of the protocol that would need adjusting.

“Liam,” Constantine had somehow found his voice, looking at his son through eyes full of regret. “Son,” he turned his body to face him.

“Don't-” Liam held up one hand. Regina let out a gasp at the harsh tone in her step-son's voice. “Don't call me that.” He dropped his hand and let out a breath. “I... I need some time, please just...” he cleared his throat and, with painfully practiced precision, forced his tone to return to a more even one. “I need some time to think.” He stood stock still, not moving.

Constantine blinked a few times, as though he was having a hard time processing Liam's words. He nodded as they sunk in, and he squared his shoulders, turning to his wife. “Come, Regina...” he let his eyes slip to where Liam stood, still not moving, gaze still fixed firmly and defensively on the two of them. “We've done enough damage.” He took the Queen's arm, tugging lightly to get her to follow him from the room. The door closed behind them and Liam crossed the room to the desk, lowering himself slowly into the chair to look out the window, to watch the sun rise on the day that would change his life, his country, forever.

*** *** *** ***

Claire lay awake in the dim light of the barely risen sun. She'd not slept much, mind racing with thoughts of the ball that evening, signaling the end of the social season, and what that might mean, what that might change. She feared anything coming of the threats that had been made, feared anything happening to Drake or to Liam, imagination working overtime to fill her head with images and scenarios that she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to fully erase. At the same time, she felt her heart lighten as she realized that the end of the season meant that she and Drake could leave, could get away from everything and just be together without all of the pressures of court, all of the prying eyes and the gossip and the strict rules. She sighed softly, eyes roving over his sleeping face as his eyelids fluttered, long lashes moving like feathers. He must have been dreaming, and she wondered what of. The corners of his closed eyes wrinkled up a bit and she felt her chest swell and her throat tighten with how she loved him. He was laying on his stomach, face tilted towards her, one arm draped across her hip, the other curled under his pillow, and her eyes traveled next to his bare back, to the steady rise and fall of his breathing, to way his defined muscles moved with each breath. She reached over to brush her fingers across what was exposed of his forehead, moving a piece of hair aside to find his skin. She let her touches trail down his cheek, down the side of his neck before curving her palm around his far shoulder blade. She used his body as a handhold to pull herself closer to him, and she felt him stir and wake as she did. “Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up,” she whispered into his shoulder, his left arm coming up to her back, fingers spreading out across her spine.

“S'okay, Berkley,” he mumbled sleepily, words muffled by the pillow. He turned his face a little more so that he could speak more clearly. “You okay, beautiful?” He kissed her forehead, his lips pressed slowly against her skin as he exhaled through his nose and let his fingers dance across her back.

“Um, hmm,” she hummed, non-convincingly into him, inhaling deeply, his scent filling her lungs.

Drake took the hand from her back and used it to gently pry her face away from his side. “Hey, there you are,” he said softly, dipping his lips down to hers for a kiss. She whimpered against his mouth. “It's going to be alright, Berkley, everything's going to be alright. It'll all be over tonight. You'll see,” he rested his forehead against hers, needing to believe what he was telling her.

“I know,” she said, wanting to mean it. They lay like that for a few minutes, just breathing one another, feeling the other against themselves, and she let images from the entire social season fly through her mind- her first night in Cordonia, the day at the racetrack, how he'd saved her from getting trampled, how he'd jumped back from her like she'd burned him before turning around and burning her with a fiery kiss. She saw flashes from Lythikos, skating with Drake, the first genuine smile she'd seen from him since they left New York; following him into the snow, the way his hand had grasped her wrist, fingers closing gently around her, thumb brushing against her pulse point as meteors swept across the sky. She saw them sitting in her window seat as he bared his soul to her, saw the two of them walking towards that hut on the beach the day of the Regatta, their hands linked, their feet splashing in the water, almost as though they hadn't a care in the world. All the mornings at the cabin, all the sighs and moans and bites, all the languid kisses that reached far down into her heart. She blocked out all the awful things that had happened, focusing on the arms around her and how they'd become her home, how she had become his. “I know, we'll be okay,” she said softly. In a way, she wasn't lying. She knew that they would be okay, that nothing could come between what they had found in one another. She sighed wishing it was enough to keep them both safe- to keep him safe and breathing, to keep his heart beating so they could go on loving.

Drake’s phone lit up on the side table casting a blueish light up towards the ceiling. Claire heard him sigh as he tapped her lightly on the hip, fingers grazing her tattoo, before shifting his weight. He brought both elbows up to rest on either side of her head and she turned onto her back so he could lower himself down for a kiss. His lips worked slowly against hers as he wished that he could slow time with that kiss. Drake brought the fingers of his good hand up to her face and let them wander into her hair as she parted her lips to allow his tongue to slip into her mouth. He wished they could forgo the ball that evening, wished that they could stay right where they were. The phone lit up a second time, and he tugged at her bottom lip lightly breaking the kiss and sitting up to check his messages.

Claire sat up slowly, keeping her eyes on him as he opened his lock screen, his own dark eyes widening before he swore under his breath with a frown. She closed her eyes and let out a breath slowly. “What is it, Drake?” she asked, reaching out and laying her hand against his back.

Drake stared at his screen for a few more seconds, re-reading the texts before answering her. “It’s Liam,” he turned to look at her, dropping his phone to his lap. “Constantine is stepping down tonight. Claire,” he shook his head. “There was another article and…” he sighed and picked his phone back up to show her the news. After she’d read the article and seen the photos- a sharp intake of breath as she saw the one of she and Drake holding the cardboard box; the one of Liam and Kiara through the window of his study- he told her that he needed to go see Liam…that Liam needed his support.

She swallowed and nodded, looking at the time. 6:30 am. It was 11:30 pm in New York. “Of course,” she leaned forward on her knees to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Of course, Drake. Go talk to him. I should…” she swallowed again. “I should call Daniel. Let him know what’s going on…” Drake understood. Claire didn’t know where her sister was or how to reach her. Dan was the closest thing to family that she had, and she wanted her family to know she loved him, just in case. He shook the just in case from his mind.

“I’ll come right back to you,” he told her, returning her kiss with a gentle peck to the crest of her cheek.

“I know you will.” She gave him a small smile, mustering up every bit of confidence and bravado that she could. As soon as he had gone from the room she fell back into the pillows and pulled her phone out to call Dan.

It rang four times. She knew he was at work, and just before she was about to hang up to try again later, his voice came across the speaker. “Hey stinker, everything okay?”

“Dan…” she filled him in on everything, trying not to make it sound like feared this might be their last conversation.

*** *** *** ***

A clock struck nine as Liam readied himself to knock on her door. He tried to keep calm as he walked through the hallway, the conversation he’d just had with Drake replaying in his mind. His friend, his brother, had reassured him that he had his unwavering support, that he had Claire’s. He was so grateful for Drake’s friendship through the years, but especially now, especially as he’d lost faith in his father, in everything he thought he knew about the crown and his country. Drake had told him that he would make a better leader than Constantine could have been in his own wildest dreams; that he believed that Liam would help Cordonia start to heal. He’d been sympathetic towards his discovery of Erika, towards the remorse Liam felt for never getting the chance to know her, to have a relationship with her and let her into his heart and his family the way that Constantine and Regina had refused to do. Liam had confided how nervous, how shaken he truly was from all of the threats and the press and the constantly shifting circumstances, and Drake had confided that he was, too, but that he’d have his back no matter what happened. The way he’d clapped him on the shoulder and held his gaze felt like a signature on a binding contract, and he knew the he could always count on the man before him. It helped him steady his heartbeat and slow his breathing and calm the storm that was brewing in his mind. It helped to have a friend, a brother, like Drake.

He approached her door and nodded to the guard that had been assigned to stand outside- after Micah’s betrayal and disappearance, Liam had insisted that she be constantly guarded in case the snake decided to come back, in case he had any unfinished business with his former charge. The guard moved aside, greeting Liam by bowing his head, and Liam knocked on the door, waiting for her answer. She opened it, meeting his cool blue eyes with hers and without a word he could tell that she’d seen the article. “Ki,” he breathed as he entered the room and entered her embrace. She wrapped her thin arms around him and he delighted in her warmth. He crashed his lips to hers as the door shut behind them, and all the fear and worry fell away for a moment as he deepened the kiss and poured what he really and truly believed to be love into it. They broke apart, breaths heavy, and she traced his jaw with her fingers. “Kiara…we need to talk, love,” he said before pressing another quick kiss to her lips for courage. She led him to the chaise lounge in her room and he sat next to her, holding her hands in his as he confided everything to her; that he’d be choosing her as his queen, that he’d be taking up the crown that evening. She’d kissed him again, sweetly, and whispered that she loved him into his ear, wrapping him in her arms again, and he stayed there with her for most of the morning, until he tore himself from her to start getting ready, a promise to make time only for her at the ball that evening.

*** *** *** ***

Claire had finished her conversation with Daniel, not bothering to try to reassure him of anything that she had no business reassuring him of. She hadn’t promised to stay safe, she hadn’t promised to leave Cordonia. She’d only told him that she needed him to know what was going on, and that she loved him. Surprisingly, he hadn’t argued, finally understanding the love between Drake and Claire, and how strong it must be if she was willing to stay in such danger for him. “You’ll call me as soon as it’s over tonight, Claire, you hear me?”

“I hear you, D,” she responded, grateful that he wasn’t trying to push her to leave, to leave it all behind, leave Drake and Liam and Hana and the Beaumonts, leave Cordonia and come home where it was safe. She was glad he realized that while Alex was out there, there really wasn’t such a thing as safe. “I hear you and I promise, I’ll call you as soon as it wraps up, as soon as Drake and I leave the palace.”

“Love you, stinker.”

“Love you more,” she’d responded as they ended their call. Not a full minute had passed when there was a knock on the door. She straightened her spine, unsure of whether or not she should answer it. Drake wouldn’t knock. He’d only been gone thirty minutes and she assumed he’d be gone longer, assumed that his conversation with Liam would last longer than that. Just as she was about to text Drake about the knocking, the sound came back, this time accompanied by a voice. “Claire,” the voice said, and she immediately relaxed, standing to cross to the door to open it. “Claire, its Bastien.”

She pulled the door open and the man stood before her, a serious quality to his steely eyes. “Good morning, Bastien,” she said flatly, letting him in.

“Good morning, Claire.” He responded, stepping past her. “I won’t be long, I just,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

Claire knit her eyebrows together and reached out to touch his shoulder. She felt his hardened muscles stretching the material of his jacket, he felt her soft, warm touch. “What’s wrong, Bas, is it Drake? Is everything alright?”

He dropped his hand and softened his features, taking in her worried expression. “Drake is fine, Claire, everyone is safe. I…I just wanted to talk to you.”

Claire felt her eyes grow wide and her mouth drop open before she forced it to shut not wanting to look like a fish. “Of course,” she said, trying not to sound so shocked. She sat down and he followed suit, taking the chair across from her. He folded his hands and rested them against his bent knee. She noticed his watch, solid and masculine. She noticed his fingers, ringless and bulky, the knuckles knobby from having been broken through the years.

He wasted no time. “Claire, I know that you love Drake. Its obvious, its written all over the both of you.” She blushed and he let the corner of his mouth twitch upwards quickly. “And I couldn’t be happier. Drake is like family to me, and I can see how happy you can make him, how whole you can make his life. I just have to be sure, Claire, that you’re in it for the long haul with him. That no matter what happens tonight, or in the future…” he dropped his gaze down to his hands for a moment, palms rubbing together before meeting her eyes again. “That you won’t run if things don’t get better.”

“I’ll never leave him out of fear, Bastien. I could never do that. He accepted my past like it was nothing. He accepted Alex like it was nothing, he’s put himself in danger for me. I love him, Bas, and I’m fully aware of what that means.” She assured him.

Bastien nodded. “That’s good, Claire.” He sighed. “That’s very good. He loves you so fiercely… I’m glad that love is being returned. I’m glad he’ll have you to come home to after all of this.” He stood as he spoke and Claire could hear something in his voice that sounded like regret, but she certainly wasn’t going to pry. Instead, she stood as well and wrapped her arms around the man in a tight hug, taking him by surprise. He let out a soft chuckle, continuing the surprise.

“Thank you for looking out for him, Bastien.  He’s got both of us now, I promise you.”

He patted her shoulder lightly as he removed himself from the hug. “And you’ve both got me,” he said, giving her another small, one sided smile that brightened his eyes a touch, but not so much that that longing, that regret she’d heard in his voice had vanished, and she wondered who the woman was that had such a hold on this man’s heart. Who the woman was and where she’d run off to once things had gotten hard. He didn’t give her long to ponder, excusing himself and leaving the room, Drake entering seconds later. “Hey,” he said, coming in and greeting her with a kiss. “What was Bastien doing here?”

Claire smiled up at him as his arms came around her, his clunky casted right hand resting on her hip, his left pressing against the small of her back. “Just checking in,” she said, rising on her toes to kiss his nose, lips lingering there as it crinkled with his smile. “Just making sure he could trust me to love you through all of this.” She reached up and smoothed his hair down, running her fingers through it. “I told him that nothing could keep me from loving you, Drake. Not a thing.” She dropped back down to her feet with a sigh.

“He’s a good man,” Drake said, shaking his head. “Even with everything that’s going on, he’s looking out for me…”

“He loves you. I love you. You look out for the people you love.”

Drake thought about her words. He would. He’d look out for the people he loved. Claire, Liam, Bastien…hell, even Olivia and Max and Hana. He’d look out for them all. “Yeah, Berkley, you do.”

They spent the rest of the day lounging in each other’s embrace, until it got to the point where they would be pushing their luck on getting ready in time for the ball if they didn’t start moving. They’d cleaned up and gotten dressed, Drake in a sleek gray suit, Claire in a deep cut white gown, and as a clock chimed seven that evening, he escorted her out into the hallway. “One more time, baby, one more of these and then it’s just you and me. Just you and me…” he leaned in and brushed his lips to her ear.

Outside the storm clouds gathered, dark and ominous, but not a bolt of lightning nor a drop of rain interrupted their silvery swirls. As the nobles started gathering in the ballroom, three figures entered through the garage, slinking in the shadows, unnoticed.

 tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlessly-searching-for-you @mind-reader1 @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerrosenberg @jovialyouthmusic @akrenich @indiacater @endlesstaylormckenzie @gardeningourmet @nekkidmolerat @cordoniantrash @thequeenofcronuts @the-everlasting-dream @roonarific @the-whiskeywife

[onewfantaesy]

Poor Tae. I'm sure he was so nervous at first. What's his personality like when he becomes more comfortable? Can you tell it from onew's perspective? He seems like the type to be very observant, especially when it's with his long lost son.

His son was afraid of him. The boy was timid and quiet and afraid of his own shadow. His son was no longer the bright, loud, smiley toddler he remembered. But this boy was his son. Onew didn’t doubt that for a second.

Luna wasn’t so convinced. She was afraid to get close to the boy, afraid to be with him too long by herself, just in case. It had been a long time since they last saw their son, and what if he disappeared again, what if this was all a dream, or an elaborate scheme? Taemin may have been afraid of them, but Luna was afraid of him too.

Children were not oblivious. Taemin may not have spoken up about it, but Onew knew that he could tell his own mother wasn’t so sure he was the right boy. That wasn’t helping him adjust any faster, wasn’t helping him trust them any.

After that first week back home, Onew sat Taemin down and told him as gently as he could that he would need to go out with the two of them onto the balcony, that he needed to go see the people of the kingdom. Taemin only sat on his bed, fiddled with his fingers, and didn’t look up from his lap.

“It’s alright to ask questions, you know,” Onew said. His hand hovered over Taemin’s shoulder, he hadn’t even touched the boy, but when he flinched away, Onew pulled his hand back. All Onew wanted to do was put his hand on his son’s shoulder, but he couldn’t even do that without frightening the boy.

“Why?” Taemin whispered.

“Why do you have to go out on the balcony?” Onew asked, and when Taemin nodded, Onew sighed. “Well, everyone in the whole kingdom missed you. They want to see you again.”

“M’not that special.”

“Yes you are,” Onew said, smiling and leaning his head down. Taemin still wouldn’t look at him. “Do you know why?”

Taemin shook his head, and he still wouldn’t look at Onew. Onew just wanted him to look up, just a glance, just wanted to see his sons eyes and his face and to see him not be afraid of him.

“Because you are my son,” Onew whispered. He took Taemin’s hands gently into his, ran his thumbs over the boy’s cracked-but-healing knuckles, and when Taemin glanced up for a brief moment before pulling his hands away, Onew took it as a victory.

“Do I have to wear fancy clothes?” Taemin whispered. He scooted a bit further from Onew, took the bear he had at the pillows on his bed into his lap and fiddled around with it, and didn’t look back up as his teeth chewed at his bottom lip.

Onew chuckled - just a bit - but he stayed put.

“Fancy clothes, no,” Onew said. “Clothes a little nicer than the pajamas you’re in now? Yes.”

Taemin wrinkled his nose, but he didn’t say anything as he straightened the bow around his teddy bear’s neck.

“Do we have to go right now?” Taemin asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” Onew said. He reached over, unfolded the bear’s right ear, and let a smile pull at his lips when Taemin didn’t yank the bear away. He had a habit of doing that with his toys, Onew had noticed - as if he were afraid they would be taken away. “We can go later in the week, if that would make you feel better. Perhaps on Friday.”

“What day is it now?”

“Sunday.”

Taemin was quiet for a moment, his teeth constantly chewing on the not-quite-healed crack in his lips that Onew was sure was going to re-open any moment now. But then he sat up a little straighter, even if his head didn’t rise at all.

“Can we do it later?”

“If that’s what you wish,” Onew said.

Taemin nodded.

Onew didn’t push him any further, didn’t get him to try and talk any more than he already had. But he lingered in the doorway to Taemin’s bedroom before he left, and he watched as the boy fell onto his side on the bed and held the teddy bear out in front of him. He was whispering to it, quiet, muffled mumbles that Onew couldn’t decipher.

This was his son - his boy that had been missing for so long that Onew feared he might be dead, and now he was playing with his toys and talking to them like they were his imaginary friends. Yet, for whatever reason, Onew felt like he was intruding, like he shouldn’t be seeing this boy talk with his teddy bear or hold it tight to his chest and then run his fingers through the fake, curly, golden fur. Onew had bought that bear for his son before he had been born, had kept it in the crib with him those first two years they had Taemin with them, only for it to sit collecting dust in the nursery that Luna still refused to step foot into. And now the bear was back with its owner, but it felt so wrong to Onew. They never should have been separated in the first place.

The night before they were supposed to have Taemin’s balcony debut since his homecoming, Onew sat with him in his bedroom. Taemin had slowly been opening up a bit more, but he hadn’t even been home two weeks, so they weren’t expecting much. He was still quiet and shy and afraid to eat too much, but he was getting better. Now, he was lying in his bed while Onew pulled up the blankets and unfolded the bear’s right ear - it always folded over at a funny angle, but Taemin never seemed to mind.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Onew asked, tucking Taemin in. Taemin wouldn’t look up from his teddy bear. “You don’t have to say anything. Everyone just wants to see you.”

He chewed at his lip again, and that stubborn crack right in the center opened right back up. Taemin only licked at the blood that seeped out.

“Um,” Taemin stuttered. “I - can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything,” Onew said.

“It - it’s just,” Taemin sat up a bit, putting his bear into his lap and chewing off skin from inside his lip. “You promise not to get mad?”

“I promise I won’t get mad,” Onew said softly. “Is something wrong? Did someone do something to you?”

“No,” Taemin said, shaking his head quickly. His eyes darted all over the room, but not once did they land on Onew. “It’s just - I’m - what if - what if I’m the wrong Taemin?”

Onew opened his mouth, closed it, and then paused before asking with a slight chuckle, “Is there another Taemin I should know about?”

“No - I don’t - I dunno,” Taemin said, the pitch in his voice rising. “What if - I mean - I’m Taemin, but what if I’m not your Taemin?”

Before Onew could say anything, Taemin started stuttering again, speaking so fast some of his words ran together.

“What if I’m Taemin, but your Taemin is a different Taemin, ‘cause, you know, ‘cause there might be other Taemins. What if I’m eleven and I’m Taemin but I’m just a different Taemin who’s also eleven like your Taemin?”

“Hey, hey,” Onew said, and he shushed Taemin and rubbed at his back and felt his heart swell when Taemin didn’t pull away. “Slow down, take a breath, it’s alright. Why are you so sure that you’re a different Taemin than my Taemin?”

“It’s just - ‘cause - I do’know if I’m your Taemin or not,” Taemin said, his voice cracking. “An’ I don’t want you gettin’ mad at me if I’m the wrong Taemin.”

“You’re not the wrong Taemin,” Onew said softly. “Now, just take a deep breath, alright? And tell me why you’re so scared about this.”

“’Cause,” Taemin cried, biting at the crack in his lip. “‘Cause Mommy hates me, an’ I heard her, I heard her, she doesn’t think I’m the right Taemin, and I dunno what you’re gonna do if I’m not the right Taemin, an’ I don’t wanna go back now ‘cause if I do the King an’ Queen’ll be really mad at me for being gone, an’, an’-”

Taemin sucked in a deep breath, and Onew was too shocked to calm him down before Taemin said in a strangled voice, “An’ I don’t wanna die.”

Onew put both his hands on Taemin’s shoulders, hunched over, and had Taemin look at him before he said in a soft yet firm voice, “You are not going to die. I’m not going to let you.”

“But - but-”

“No buts,” Onew said. When his hands stayed on Taemin’s shoulders and the boy didn’t pull away, Onew pulled him close and held him to his chest, the boy’s legs splayed out over Onew’s lap. Onew held one arm around Taemin’s back and ran the fingers of his other hand through Taemin’s hair. Then he whispered in a fierce voice, “You are my son. You are my Taemin; there isn’t a doubt in my mind about that.”

Taemin squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in Onew’s neck, only to whisper, “Then why doesn’t Mommy like me?”

Onew held onto Taemin tighter, pressed his lips to the top of Taemin’s head, and gave his arm a light squeeze.

“Mommy was so scared when you went missing,” Onew whispered. “And I think that sometimes she’s scared still; she’s afraid that she might turn around and then the next moment you’ll be gone again.”

Taemin didn’t say anything at that, but he pushed himself closer to Onew and kept his face hidden. Onew didn’t think he had quite convinced Taemin that he was in fact the right Taemin, so he rubbed his arm again before seeing the teddy bear squished between them, and then he smiled.

“Hey,” Onew whispered. He put a finger beneath Taemin’s chin, pulled his face out, and then held the bear up a bit. “What’s his name?”

Taemin looked at the bear, wrinkled his brow, and then pushed his face back into Onew’s neck.

“It’s dumb,” he muttered.

“It’s not dumb,” Onew said. “Go on, tell me.”

Taemin shifted a bit, moved one arm around Onew’s shoulders and played with the fabric of his night robe. He held the bear in his other arm, rubbing his finger over the back of the bear’s head.

“His name’s Lion,” Taemin mumbled. When Onew chuckled a bit, Taemin frowned and shoved his face back into Onew’s neck.

But Onew pulled his face back out and smiled at Taemin.

“You know how I know you’re my Taemin?” Onew asked. Taemin was actually looking him in the eye, and for a moment, he stopped chewing on that cut-up lip of his. “Because my Taemin used to call this bear Lion too.”

Taemin’s eyes went wide, and he brought his other arm down so he could hold the bear in both hands. He looked down at it, and then leaned heavily against Onew’s chest.

“He looks like a lion,” Taemin mumbled. “‘Cause his hair’s like a lion’s. Kinda.”

For a moment, Onew saw a spark of the toddler that went missing all those years ago. The glint in Taemin’s eyes was the same, the silly little smirk, the way he leaned against Onew’s chest even. It was the first time Onew truly felt like he had his son back.

“Why don’t you come sleep with me and Mommy tonight?” Onew whispered, pushing Taemin’s hair out of his face.

“Mommy won’t-”

“Mommy will be happy that you want to be around her,” Onew said. “But you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I can tuck you back in right here, and then see you in the morning.”

“Can I?” Taemin whispered, then looked up. “With you?”

Onew stood up, still holding onto Taemin, and didn’t even bother fixing the bed sheets before taking the boy back to his and Luna’s bedroom. Luna looked surprised to see them both come in, but she didn’t say anything about Taemin sleeping in his own bed.

“Tomorrow is a big day,” Onew said as he put Taemin in the middle of their bed. “Don’t you think Taemin should stay with us tonight?”

Taemin only looked at the bear he held in front of his face, refusing to look at either of them.

“Will it make you feel better?” Luna asked, moving closer from her side of the bed.

Taemin only nodded.

Onew got in the bed then, putting out the light on his side. Once they were all in the bed, Taemin rolled over a bit to look at Luna.

He held out the bear a bit, then said in a soft voice, “His name is Lion.”

Then Taemin rolled over to face Onew, held the bear tight to his chest, and put his head on Onew’s shoulder. Luna looked to Onew with wide, wet eyes, and for the first time, she looked truly convinced that this was their son.

She moved toward the two of them a bit, let her hand hover over Taemin’s back, and then rubbed small circles just below the collar of his shirt.

“That’s a great name for him,” Luna whispered. When she looked at where her hand was rubbing circles into his back, her eyes widened, and she looked to Onew with a horrified look on her face.

That was the first time Luna saw the scars on Taemin’s back, seeing only just the tips peek out at his collar. Onew had seen them that first night, when he first gave Taemin a bath. Scars from old whippings.

She ran her fingers through Taemin’s hair after that, softly and gently in a slow rhythm until he fell asleep.

Not only had Taemin let them both touch him that night, but he’d willingly fallen asleep in front of both of them. It was a big step.

When Taemin back up against Onew’s chest the next morning on the balcony, held onto the arm Onew wrapped around his chest and fiddled with Onew’s fingers, Onew thought he might cry. He was becoming a source of comfort for his son, and that meant more to him than he ever thought it would.

After a month, Taemin was becoming more confident. He would roam around the palace without an escort, he was starting to eat more at every meal and actually keep it down, he was figuring out his favorite foods.

He especially liked pancakes with peanut butter on them - the chunky kind of peanut butter was best, but smooth would do if chunky wasn’t on the table. His favorite drink was chocolate milk. He preferred his eggs scrambled instead of poached. He liked having custard tarts for dessert, but was not opposed to fruit pies. His sweet tooth was almost as bad as Onew’s.

Taemin would often roam around the palace until he found Onew and then would ask him to play with the toy knights that Minho gave to him. He thought it was the coolest thing that he had a Godfather, and he lit up anytime the Knight Commander came to see him.

He liked Key just fine but seemed a bit timid when Key said they should play or do something together. Amber visited frequently as well, claiming that her “big cousin privilege” was that she got to see Taemin whenever she wanted.

Onew would sometimes sit and watch as his son played in the playroom, would set up the chess board one of the maids brought for Taemin to play with and wait until Taemin was done playing with his knights or trains or boats to teach him to play.

“I like checkers better,” Taemin said after a while. “The rules are easier.”

Onew was just happy that Taemin felt comfortable enough to speak his mind. Taemin was getting more and more confident everyday, and it was a joy to witness him start breaking out of the cage the rival kingdom forced him into.

“Daddy?”

Onew snapped out of his thoughts, and he smiled where his son was sitting across from him.

“Can we play checkers instead?” Taemin asked.

“We can play whatever you want,” Onew said, and he cleared the board to set up the checkers.

Taemin shifted to sit on his knees and lean against the table on his elbows, his tongue poking out as he thought where to make his first move. Onew could only smile, lean back in seat, and watch as his boy slowly started to become himself again. That spark he remembered being in his toddler’s eyes glinted back at him when Taemin looked up and smirked, making his first move and then holding his cheeks in his hands as he waited for Onew to play.

[jugandbettsdetectiveagency]

The Serpent and The Swan - Ch.8

My plan went a little further in this chapter originally but I’ve split it up so you’re not waiting as long for an update this time. I promise next chapter is filled with Betty and Jughead happiness, in the midst of all the drama!

Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Ch. 3 / Ch.4 / Ch.5 / Ch. 6 / Ch.7 / Read on AO3

Jughead ached all over. His entire body felt sore and mistreated, and that was probably because it had been.

He should have known something like this would happen. All the hints his father had been dropping, telling him to wait and see. He’d waited, he saw, and then he’d had an entire cavern’s worth of rocks dropped on top of him, pinning him helplessly to the ground while everything else crumbled around his useless body.

Betty. Her name echoed relentlessly through his throbbing head as his mind tried to swim back into consciousness.

What he wouldn’t have given to be able to see her face in that moment, and not just in the hazy, unfocused images his subconscious was producing as he found a weight pulling him back into the murky depths of sleep. He wanted to be able to hear her delicate laugh, to feel the warmth from her shy smile pouring over his face as she looked up at him with bashful eyes. Those wide eyes – he’d never stop getting lost in their impossible depths, full of every emotion he didn’t think he was capable of being shown, let alone reciprocating. Jughead had only had the honour of feeling her soft, inviting lips against his own once, and it was a memory he was sure he’d carry with him until his dying day, no matter how far or soon that day might be.

He’d been so distant from her, despite the gaping chasm it caused to open up in his chest, threatening to swallow him whole. The sight of her in his doorway, those eyes like shattered sea glass as she begged for him to open up, to let her in, in every sense of the words, haunted him even now. From the moment Queen Alice had announced the death of the King he knew. The last little part of him that had been clinging to the notion that Betty’s father’s illness was mere coincidence buckled and fell, leaving only the doubtless knowledge that FP had been involved somehow. He wanted to have faith in his father, longed for it even. But he’d wished for things before and knew that the universe was never so giving.

He groaned as whatever carriage he was in juddered to a stop, a harsh wind chilling him as soon as the door was wrenched open and he was shaken roughly.

“Come on, get up,” a gruff voice ordered, and Jughead put every last ounce of effort into opening his eyelids. It took a minute for him to adjust, but he could see one of his father’s lackeys waiting for him to move, and the flickering, orange glow of firelight just over his shoulder. “We don’t have all night,” he barked when Jughead still hadn’t made to move.

He stumbled out on weak legs, half dragged, half falling towards the small house in front of them, signs of life visible from within.

“Here,” the man demanded, pushing on Jughead’s shoulders to get him to sink into the wooden chair in the centre of the room. He put up no fight as he felt his arms being tugged behind him, coarse rope scratching at the soft skin of his wrists as they were bound behind him. Every instinct within him called out to struggle, but the energy to do so could not be summoned. The back of his head thumped rhythmically, matching the beat of his heart pumping blood around his limp body, and he vaguely recalled the feeling of glass shattering with his impact before the world succumbed to inky darkness.

“What…” Jughead tried to talk but all that came out was a wisp of a breath, his throat dry and raspy. He tried again. “What’s going on? Where are we?” he croaked, trying to get his eyes to focus on something, anything while they attempted to roll back into his head. His gaze landed on something in front of the fireplace, cast into shadow by the roaring flames, and he wished he hadn’t bothered.

There, in a crumpled heap, lay his father. His eyes went wide, dry lips dropping open to release a whoosh of air. His muscles went rigid as everything but FP’s lifeless form faded away. In the dim lighting Jughead could see the unnatural angle of his arm as it folded over his stomach, the cuts and bruises strewn across his worn, aged skin, including the river of dried blood running down the side of his face, stemming from the open wound at his temple.

“Is he…?” Jughead whispered, unable to tear his eyes away.

“Dead? Not quite,” came a voice from over his shoulder, a voice he recognised. It was then that he noticed the shallow movements of FP’s chest, rising and falling with some difficulty, but definitely steady and consistent. A sharp pain erupted behind Jughead’s forehead as he tried to look for the voice’s owner, emitting a low grunt as he grit his teeth in an effort not to cry out. “Comfortable, little snakelet?” Mustang sauntered into view, an obnoxious sneer plastered across his features.

“Where’s my sister?!” he yelled, searching the room for any sign of her.

“She should just be arriving home by now, she’s being taken care of.” The words didn’t offer him any comfort, unsurprisingly.

“What are you doing?” Jughead grunted, tugging against his restraints as he felt the spinning of the room start to subside, his strength growing.

“Ahh, the young prince is in the dark. Been spending too much time with that Swan bitch of yours, have you?” Mustang sneered. Jughead felt his blood boil at the mention of Betty, lunging for the man in front of him only to be stopped by the bonds that held him fast. “I have to say, we didn’t plan for the two of you to actually fall for each other. Guess you must have more charm than we realised,” he laughed heartily, circling Jughead the way predator hunts prey. It was a common analogy whenever someone dealt with the Serpents; people weren’t equals to them, they were objects to be conquered.

“So, what was the plan?” Jughead tried to ask calmly, tilting his head as he looked up at Mustang questioningly. “Get an in, kill the King, and then what? Get hunted for murder. You weren’t exactly subtle,” he spit, upper lip pulling back over his teeth in distaste.

Mustang just continued to grin, something unsettling beginning to press on Jughead’s chest until he could feel his heart pounding in his ears. He strolled lazily over to FP, crouching on the toes of his boots as he gripped the unconscious man beneath the chin, fingers clearly pressing down on his airways. FP gurgled softly in his slumber.

“Nah, you see… That’s where this nice little scapegoat comes in,” Mustang murmured, jerking FP’s head up, lowering his face to hover over him. “There’s a benefit to having a useless piece of shit for a ruler. Easy to blame.” He looked back over to Jughead, teeth glinting in the firelight.

“Why? What do you get out of this?” Jughead asked, genuinely at a loss. Mustang stood up, running a calloused hand over his dirt-matted hair.

“You ask a lot of questions, kid,” he said, jabbing an accusing finger at him.

“Then answer some,” Jughead retorted, refusing to back down. That earned him a grim chuckle.

“You’ve got more balls than your father, I’ll give you that.” He pulled up a chair, twisting it so the back faced forwards and straddled the seat. “You see this?” He tugged up his already rolled sleeve, exposing the S-shaped serpent tattoo inked prominently on his forearm. It wasn’t unusual for those in close keeping with the court to brand themselves with such a symbol. Jughead was thankful that the matter wouldn’t be pushed until he reached eighteen, not rushing to mar himself with the mark of a place he hadn’t been proud of in a long time. Mustang’s fingers ran over the image, trailing pointedly over the scar running straight through the middle. It was long and white, winding distinctly through the body of the double headed serpent, end to end. The cut must have been deep. “This is the mark of the Wyrm. It binds us, keeps us together, and together we are sick of seeing some drunken coward run our homeland into the ground. It’s time for change and we’re here to see it through,” Mustang finished proudly. There were distinct mutterings erupting from the crowd, of agreement and solidarity for who Jughead assumed was their ‘leader’. He scoffed.

“So you kill the Swan King? Are you stupid? What does that get you? You’ve committed treason in not just one but two factions,” he said, nodding his head towards FP’s inanimate figure. “The High Council is going to have a field day sentencing you – all of you,” he shouted, casting his gaze around the room, straightening as much as he could in his chair.

“The High Council won’t be a problem,” Mustang grinned maliciously, tapping two fingers against his tattoo once more. Jughead’s nostrils flared as he understood the insinuation. Panic started to bubble in his throat. He willed it down, breathing steadily as he recalled the sensation of riding through the grounds of Castle Aeris with Betty on horseback, the summer breeze wrapping around them in a cloak of youthful abandonment. How was he meant to keep her safe tied to a chair in the middle of nowhere, like an animal in a cage? He didn’t even know how many days they’d been travelling to get here.  

“And what next? War? I’d like to see you try and get hold of enough resources to even get close to winning,” Jughead taunted. He knew the fastest way to get information out of Mustang would be to taunt him, to make him feel inadequate. It was working.

“It’s not that hard when you’ve got a backer,” he replied, all but flaunting his plan in the prince’s face. “And Clifford Blossom has been most accommodating.”

The Blossoms are in on this too, Jughead thought, mind racing. He thought back to all the visits that had brought Cheryl and her father to his home, King Clifford disappearing behind doors with his father to discuss any amount of unknown topics. Jughead knew he must not have done a very good job of hiding his horror because Mustang laughed freely.

“Not so smart now, are we?” he jeered. “Your father thought he was smart, too. All those meetings he took with King Clifford, talking about a union for the ‘strength and prosperity of our great factions’. Little did he know that union didn’t involve him, not in the slightest. You were never supposed to marry that perfect princess, you know? Your engagement to Princess Cheryl has been in the works for a long time. The plan just took a little detour, a way into the Swan’s nest so they could be attacked from the inside.

“FP just thought they were going to clean ‘em out, take them down by ridding them of their riches. He couldn’t wait; turns out he had a bit of grudge against their Queen for leaving him high and dry some years back.” Jughead’s brow furrowed. “He basically did all the work for us! All we had to do was swap the herb he was going to use to weaken the King for a slow working poison and that was it – one dead King. It was almost too easy,” Mustang joked. Jughead bristled; despite their less than favourable relationship, hearing these men talk about using his father this way sickened him to his stomach, almost as much as the thought of the bloodshed that was inevitably to come did. “Once King Clifford comes to power we’re going to get everything he promised us. Power beyond anything you could imagine,” Mustang bragged.

“They won’t go down without a fight,” Jughead tried, feeling himself losing with every second passing.

“Then a fight is what they’ll get,” Mustang retorted.

“I won’t marry Cheryl.” It was a last ditch attempt, said around a growing lump in his throat, words sounding thick and feeble even to his own ears.

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll have a choice, snakelet. Deal’s done.” He was looming over Jughead now, blocking all light from his vision as he towered over the prince, the victor taunting his conquest.

The room was silent save the bursting and crackling of firewood. Jughead had nothing left to say, no defences left to use. It was over.

He jumped at the sudden harsh rapping against the outside door, every man in the room reaching for their weapons as they took on defensive stances. Mustang gestured for one of them to go and open the door with a jerk of his head, readying his sword for the intruder. Jughead craned his neck, hoping beyond hope that his out was waiting just beyond the slatted wood. The door swung open, the lithe figure standing there bathed in moonlight.

“Hello, gentlemen. Thanks for waiting for me,” Joaquin said breezily, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Mustang strode over to him, placing the tip of his blade pointedly at the base of the man’s throat.

“We didn’t know where your loyalties lie,” he said suspiciously, sizing him up. Joaquin’s expression remained unfazed, but Jughead was sure he could make out just a hint of wariness in the depths of his friend’s eyes as he surveyed the room, resting on Jughead for no more than a second. He blinked and it was gone, settling back into his usual stoicism.

“I place my trust in whatever is best for my faction,” he said firmly. “And if that no longer includes our King then far be it for me to stop whoever tries to rectify that fact.” He spoke with a calm measure that almost had Jughead believing him. Almost…

Mustang peered at him for a moment longer, eyes searching his face thoroughly. He must have been satisfied with what he found for a moment later he lowered his sword, nodding quickly while stepping back to let Joaquin inside.

“And I can help,” Joaquin continued, placing his back to Jughead, hands clasped behind him. “I was able to hear some of what they are planning to do after you left the castle. No one pays much mind a servant,” he reminded them. A sly smile slipped onto Mustang’s face. He clapped Joaquin approvingly on his shoulder, imploring him to share what he knew.

But Jughead wasn’t concerned with that, barely noticing the interaction. His gaze was focused solely on Joaquin’s hands, more specifically his upturned palm. He’d unfurled his fingers slowly, the movement catching Jughead’s attention, and there, nestled in the palm, was a shaky but unmistakable drawing of a rose.

Jughead’s heart stopped before picking up again in double time. Betty, it could only mean Betty. Was she here? She was foolish, so foolish, if she was – she could get hurt? Jughead felt a swell of affection despite his worries, the thought of her glowing presence so close by making his head spin all over again. He could practically feel her warm skin against his hands, smell her sweet, floral scent. He tried to keep his reaction minimal, allowing the conversations around him to filter back in.

“So, go on. Tell us what they’re going to try,” Mustang said excitedly, almost bouncing on his feet with the idea that he’d have even more advantage over the enemy. Joaquin sent a look over his shoulder, raising one eyebrow at Jughead. Jughead nodded subtly in return and Joaquin closed his fist.

“Perhaps we should do it out of earshot of certain prisoners. Just in case,” he suggested smoothly. Mustang glanced over at Jughead as if he’d forgotten he was even there in all his excitement.

“Fuck, yeah you’re right,” he agreed, looking around the room.

“Allow me,” Joaquin offered, moving swiftly over to untie Jughead and haul him up, gripping his arms a little on the uncomfortable side of tight, keeping up the façade. He made a show of retying Jughead’s wrists, and Jughead could feel the give in the new knot that wasn’t there before. Joaquin shoved him over to the far side of the room, opening the door there and pushing him through.

“The window,” he mouthed to Jughead before slamming the door and plunging him into darkness.

Jughead spun round, wrenching his hands free the first second he could, using his fingers to search along the walls. There was just barely a sliver of moonlight pouring through the cracks in the shutters and he fumbled for a moment before pulling them open.

Not two seconds after he’d got the window open a face appeared and Jughead was breathless.

He didn’t know how many days it had been since they’d last seen each other but he knew that it was too many, regardless. She was just as beautiful as he had remembered her to be, more so, the images his fogged brain had conjured up not doing her elegance justice. Her golden hair was wild and windswept, eyes bright and frantic as she gripped at the windowsill, finding his face in the darkness.

“Juggie,” she breathed, and all other thoughts left him.

She reached for him, pulling herself over the ledge by her hands on the back of her neck, her fingers slipping into his hair as she crushed her lips to his. He wondered briefly if they’d ever slow down, be able to explore and taste one anther unhurriedly, without the overwhelming desire to take as much as the other was willing to give. He’d give everything if it meant never having to be parted from her.

Their lips found a sweet rhythm, pushing and pulling in a frenzied dance until they were both without breath, gasping into one another’s mouths without restraint.

“I’m sorry, Betty,” he panted against her mouth, bringing his hands up to cradle her flushed cheeks, feeling damp trails against his fingertips. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I just thought my father…” He couldn’t resist dipping in for one more kiss, pressing against her with a bruising passion, communicating every apology he didn’t have the breath left to say.

“It’s okay,” she chanted, over and over, soothing him gently. “I understand it’s okay.” Her fingers didn’t stop combing through his hair, pulling him back from the brink.

“Betty, it’s bad. What they’re planning… I’m not sure if we can fight it alone,” he worried, tracing every last detail of her in case…

Just in case.

The sea of jade in her eyes solidified with a steely resolve that he had never witnessed before, sending shivers branching out across his shoulders and down the expanse of his back.

“We’ve got to try, Jughead. We can do nothing but try,” she affirmed, eyes darting over his shoulder at the sudden noise from the other room. “Come on, we have to leave quickly,” she whispered hurriedly, looping her hands around his arms to pull him through the window.

“Where are we?” Jughead asked in a whisper as they ran away from the building, unfamiliar with his surroundings.

“About three days ride south of the castle,” she informed him, securing the saddle of the white and grey horse tied under a covering of nearby trees, hushing her when she started to whinny softly. Jughead smirked.

“I see my lessons have paid off,” he teased, folding his arms across his chest. Betty rolled her eyes, untying the rope with nimble fingers.

“You can congratulate yourself later,” she huffed, an affectionate smile accompanying her words. “Climb up,” she instructed.

Jughead’s couldn’t help but eye up the dark horse tied to the neighbouring tree, gaze flitting between it and the building they’d just left. Betty’s eyes flooded with sympathy, following his train of thought. She rubbed a comforting hand over his arm.

“We have to go, Jughead. Joaquin said he’d be fine, that he’d try and follow as soon as he could,” she assured him, but he could see the doubt in her eyes, feel the hesitancy in his own. With gritted teeth he nodded, mounting the horse, only looking back to help Betty up behind him. He had to have faith in his friend’s abilities. Either that or try and convince himself that the only way he could help him was to move forwards.

“The Blossom’s faction is to the west, the Andrew’s to the east. If we head towards the latter we can make it to Polly’s farm around noon,” she instructed him, pointing in the right direction before wrapping her arms securely around his waist. Jughead nodded, sighing as he relaxed against her touch, gripping the reins firmly to start their journey.

Betty filled him in on her mother’s story as they rode, understanding finally dawning on Jughead as he heard about their parent’s pasts. In return, he told her everything he knew about the Whyte Wyrm.

“The Blossoms,” Betty whispered against his shoulder. “Of course. Mother said she didn’t trust them, that they’d had a hand in bleeding our faction dry with bad investments for the past few years,” she told him dejectedly. He stroked reassuring fingers across the hands locked over his stomach, as much as he could reach in their current position. He felt her responding kiss against his shoulder blade.

“I think that’s where they must be heading next, and if they have more members of their group riding up from the south it would make sense for them to have a meeting point halfway between the two,” Jughead mused, referring to the house they’d departed from. Betty hummed in response.

“If they’re moving on to the Blossoms we only have so long to gather a resounding army. Castle Aeris is the weakest its ever been, its defences completely down.” She took a breath. “I say we head on to the Hounds as soon as we’ve rested at Polly’s, warned her what might be coming. They already have an alliance with the Ravens which makes them twice as strong as they already were and they should be willing to help us. No one wants a kingdom entirely run by Blossoms,” she muttered in disdain.

Jughead didn’t reply, too lost in thought. Something Betty had said struck a chord within him, manifesting itself as an idea that was rapidly growing by the second.

“Jughead, what is it?” Betty asked in concern, sensing something was off.

“What you said, about the Hounds already having an alliance… well, it makes sense. To try and strengthen the factions as much as possible while we still have the chance,” he began slowly. Betty saw the flush creeping up his cheeks as he spoke, confusion causing her brow to crease.

“What do you mean?” she asked again, stroking encouraging fingers across his stomach. He swallowed visibly.

“If there’s a legal tie between the Serpents and the Swans it might incite pause, make some people reconsider which side they want to fight for.” He took a breath. “We should get married, Betty. As soon as we reached your sister’s village I want to marry you. Partly for completely selfish reasons, like the fact that I’ve never been more certain of anything as I am that I want to live out the rest of my days by your side. And… with everything happening those days could be limited.” Betty frowned, not wanting him to talk that way but she didn’t interrupt him. “Like I said, the union might help us strategically but… also… I want you to be mine.”

Betty wished she could have seen his face more clearly as he spoke, desperate to see the way he would look at her with that unmistakable sincerity that she had grown so used to seeing emanate from him. She bit her lip against the grin that threatened to split her face, trying not to focus on the twinge of guilt that plucked at her stomach for feeling so happy and contented in their current circumstances. She just couldn’t help it.

“Yes,” she whispered, stretching up to plant a quick, promising kiss to any exposed skin she could reach. “Yes, Juggie, a thousand times,” she continued despite the emotion clogging her throat. His relieved laugh filled her with an overwhelming hope, that they could make it through this, and that they could be together. She clung to him tighter as they headed over the fields towards their next stop.

[writerspink]

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paragraph weather window third believe discovered simple gone paint new store form cells matter follow perhaps cannot good means around line center kind reason move forest sentence return instruments beside represent wild study back farmers sum difference product quotient remainder mother animal land region record summer general caterpillar scratch modern adjust passenger promise equal creak almost croak book dainty song high every near add food between own below country plant last school father keep tree never start city earth eyes light thought head under story saw left don’t few while along might close something seem next hard open example begin life always those both paper together got group often run

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misty poor caution pest phrase life startle squirm alone centaur rise mountain above illustrator footprint temperature decorate country sweat sometimes hair smiled everything began thick compass themselves enough took although splendid crowded second act attach sly talk wonder let’s whirl someone Africa borrow beat belong blink per fasten pain begin drenched bed shell free earth tiny slippery count factors important until children side feet car mile night walk white sea grow river four carry state once book hear stop without late miss idea eat face watch far Indian real almost let girl mountains cut young soon list song being leave family it’s

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drowsy bashful hatch glad copy possible wicked grin sibling shovel run verb sail polish ride young steep case Indian laughed soil appear bolts costume melody narrow behave howl example flee together lot filthy alarm spiral selfish idea conductor fight rolled middle glacier tree dizzy gather sneaky already construct every miss lively metal couldn’t gold plant mask chat nation hear either bundle section near rescue face divide sob celebrate family loosen jealous crash chimney daily own cozy ripe cut son natural serious carry care paper broken cue within body music color stand questions fish area mark horse birds problem complete room knew since ever piece told usually didn’t friends easy heard order red door sure become top ship across today during short better best however low hours black products happened whole measure remember early waves reached

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being instead ache exactly hard speed buy age late artistic close affordable fraction eyes appetite complain sleep seem eat below remove rusty grow glum stormy trust enormous scale open add grab upset weed denied expensive story terrified lead jumped died basket side bear bend list tomb while batch grateful father gleaming dress light sprinkle amount exclaim result yank leave cheat whimper angle outside remain heap champion surprise dodge moment fancy squeeze pretend village shriek city thunder rapid iron striped don’t attitude bell hat tug isn’t applause children honest cross spring freezing listen wind rock space covered fast several hold himself toward five step morning passed vowel true hundred against pattern numeral table north expert slowly money map farm pulled draw voice seen cold cried plan notice south sing war ground fall king town I’ll unit figure certain field travel wood fire upon

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pattern cave hope mile group travel blush killed seed bottom hide important let ticket timid pounds restart silent cranky keep real bright quite curved repeat trip without dart consonant mountains quiet apologize roar grip groan bolt food injury century exhausted cabin atmosphere floor it’s scold transportation delighted giant hill something build fog method rough left everyone obey deserve speak therefore soon french switch until pushed state knob hobby between surround collect fire I’ll arrive road happened certain top order astronomy inches club catch farm nibble color yourself received connect told gaze check wear English half ten fly gave box finally wait correct oh quickly person became shown minutes strong verb stars front feel fact street decided contain course surface produce building ocean class note nothing rest carefully scientists inside wheels stay green known island week less machine base ago stood

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round award crowd slowly yet products, goods, services vowel himself strange whose draw team hold feel flood sent save stood yard notice warn enemy deep please flap coast music wrote safe blast behind island lizard figure famous garden correct whisper listen joined clear share net thus calf maybe cried piece fold seen england decided bank fell pair control clean telescope trouble glass float morning horse produce course hunting rest step statement contain shouted filled zigzag accident cents instrument fly single express visit desert seeds chew dome experiment break gravity against branch size low plane system ran boat game force brought understand warm common bring explain dry though language shape thousands yes equation government heat full hot check object am rule among noun power cannot able six dark ball material special heavy fine circle include built

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mark wealthy row feeling across attention ran map students inside design art mouth ring skill hot during shelter full till log (book) blossom discard bring quickly scientists party town covered wise early cram grain harm goal pause inform heal clue fame freeze badge pimple dim missionary diet dumb rod march agree stick government bulb mall ban greed skiing poison stove image grew fact material dangerous flow gap ago stack explain didn’t strong voice true drawing surface gift corner cloud since king dawn pulled dozen friends greedy burning upon knew insect decimal nervous pay foot weak smooth aware steady serve lost nonetheless beach front atlas questions less cost slight motor banner wire area carefully separate equation local minutes fast table plan fine waves fair sing dive suppose boat thousands shape among toward gas factory birds wait understand sure ship report captain human game history reflect special brave bounce though else can’t matter square syllables perhaps bill felt suddenly test direction center farmers ready anything divided general energy subject Europe moon region return believe dance members picked simple cells paint mind love cause rain exercise eggs train blue wish drop developed window difference distance heart site sum summer wall forest probably

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include cage language base red brain building feast better built demolish excess leap tower ocean plains cold claw information scholar climbed woman worry strand heavy herd common ground damp pack choose president least increase half english invent class measure dash tremble object become doubt became bare wheels continued shiver engine core couple business stars week peak numeral brought nothing touch reached uncle symbols however rumor evening inasmuch (as) force curious heat career system valley dust flock spray robber practice lonely remember luxury warm heard calm rock frighten leader difficulty best gum cheer key support universe stream bit usually fish parade balance money note cliff stand proof you’re pale machine complete cool shown street today shy easy several search unit war power caught settle itself fuel mention fresh planet plane straight period person able direct space wood seal field circle lady board besides hours passed known whole similar underline main winter wide written length reason kept interest arms brother race present beautiful store job edge past sign record finished discovered wild happy beside gone sky grass million west lay weather root instruments meet third months paragraph raised represent soft whether clothes flowers shall teacher held describe drive appreciate structure visible artificial

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afraid absorb british seat fear stretched furniture sight oxygen coward rope clever yellow albeit confess passage france fan cattle spot explore rather active death effect mine create wash printed process origin rose swift woe planets doze gasp chief perform triumph value substances tone score predict property movement harsh tube settled defend reverse ancient blood sharp border fierce plunge consider terms vision intend total schedule attract average intelligent corn dead southern glide supply convince send continent brief mural symbol crew chance suffix habit insects entered nursery especially spread drift major fig diagram guess wit sugar predator science necessary moisture park ordeal nectar fortunate flutter gun forward globe misery molecules arctic won’t actually addition washington cling rare lie steel pastime soldiers chill accordingly capital prevent solution greek sensitive electric agreed thin provide indicate northern volunteer sell tied triangle action opposite shoulder imitate steer wander except match cross speak solve appear metal son either ice sleep village factors result jumped snow ride care floor hill pushed baby buy century outside everything tall already instead phrase soil bed copy free hope spring case laughed nation quite type themselves temperature bright lead everyone method section lake iron within dictionary bargain loyal resource struggle vary capture exclaim gloomy insist restless shallow shatter talent atmosphere brilliant endure glance precious unite certain clasp depart journey observe superb treasure wisdom

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prepared journey trade delicate arrived track cotton hoe furnish exciting view grasp level branches privilege limit wrong enable ability various moreover spoil starve dollars digest advice sense accuse pretty wasn’t industry adopt loyal suggested blow treasure cook adjective doesn’t wings tools crops loud smell frail wisdom fit expect ahead lifted deed device weight gradual respect interesting arrange particular compound examine cable climate division individual talent fatal entire advantage opponent wouldn’t elements column custom enjoy grace theory suitable wife shoes determine allow marsh workers difficult repeated thrill position born distant revive magnificent shop sir army struggled deal plural rich rhythm rely poem company string locate church mystify elegant led actual responsible japanese huge fun meat observe swim office chart avoid factories block called experience win crumple brilliant located pole bought conditions sister details primary survey truck recall disease radio rate scatter decay signal approach launch hair age amount scale pounds although per broken moment tiny possible gold milk quiet natural lot stone act build middle speed count consonant someone sail rolled bear wonder smiled angle fraction Africa killed melody bottom trip hole poor let’s fight surprise French died beat exactly remain fingers clever coast explore imitate pierce rare symbol triumph ancient cling disturb expose perform remote timid bashful brief compete consider delightful honor reflex remark brink chill conquer fortunate fury intend pattern vibrant wit

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capture remark western outcome risk current bold compare resident ambition arrest furthermore desire confuse accurate disclose considerable contribute calculate baggage literacy noble era benefit orchard shabby content precious manufacture dusk afford assist demonstrate instant concentrate sturdy severe blend vacant weary carefree host limb pointless prepare inspire shallow chamber vast ease attentive source frantic lack recent distress basic permit threat analyze distract meadow mistrust jagged prefer sole envy hail reduce arena tour annual apparent recognize captivity burrow proceed develop humble resist peculiar response communicate circular variety frequent reveal essential disaster plead mature appropriate attractive request congratulate address destructive fragile modest attempt tradition ancestor focus flexible conclude venture impact generosity routine tragic crafty furious blossom concern ascend awkward master queasy release portion plentiful alert heroic extraordinary frontier descend invisible coax entrance capable peer terror mock outstanding valiant typical competition hardship entertain eager limp survive tidy antonym duplicate abolish approach approve glory magnificent meek prompt revive watchful wreckage audible consume glide origin prevent punctuate representative scorn stout woe arch authentic clarify declare grant grave opponent valid yearn admirable automatic devotion distant dreary exhaust kindle predict separation stunt

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evade debate dedicate budge available miniature petrify pasture banquet pedestrian solitary decline reassure nonchalant exhibit realistic exert abuse dictate minor monarch concept character strategy soar beverage tropical withdraw challenge kin navigate purchase reliable mischief solo combine vivid aroma spurt illuminate narrator retain excavate avalanche preserve suspend accomplish exasperate obsolete occasion myth reign sparse gorge intense revert antagonist talon aggressive alternate retire cautiously blizzard require endanger luxurious senseless portable sever compensate companion visual immense slither guardian compassion escalate detect protagonist oasis altitude assume seldom courteous absurd edible identical pardon approximate taunt achievement homonym hearty convert wilderness industrious sluggish thrifty deprive independent bland confident anxious astound numerous resemble route access jubilation saunter hazy impressive document moral crave gigantic bungle prefix summit overthrow perish visible translate comply intercept feeble exult compose negative suffocate frigid synonym appeal dominate deplete abundant economy desperate diligent commend boycott jovial onset burden fixture objective siege barrier conceive formal inquire penalize picturesque predator privilege slumber advantage ambition defiant fearsome imply merit negotiate purify revoke wretched absorb amateur channel elegant grace inspect lame tiresome tranquil boast eloquent glisten ideal infectious invest locate ripple sufficient uproar

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apprehensive dialogue prejudice marvel eligible accommodate arrogant distinct knack deposit liberate cumulative consequence strive salvage chronological unique vow concise influence lure poverty priority legislation significant conserve verdict leisure erupt beacon stationary generate provoke efficient campaign paraphrase swarm adhere eerie mere mimic deteriorate literal preliminary solar soothe expanse ignite verge recount apparel terrain ample quest composure majority collide prominent duration pursue innovation omniscient resolute unruly optimist restrain agony convenient constant prosper elaborate genre retrieve exploit continuous dissolve dwell persecute abandon meager elude rural retaliate primitive remote blunder propel vital designate cultivate loathe consent drastic fuse maximum negotiate barren transform conspicuous possess allegiance beneficial former factor deluge vibrant intimidate idiom dense awe rigorous manipulate transport discretion hostile clarity arid parody boisterous capacity massive prosecute declare stifle remorse refuge predicament treacherous inevitable ingenious plummet adapt monotonous accumulate reinforce extract reluctant vacate hazardous inept diminish domestic linger context excel cancel distribute document fragile myth reject scuffle solitary temporary veteran assault convert dispute impressive justify misleading numerous productive shrewd strategy villain bluff cautious consist despise haven miniature monarch obstacle postpone straggle vivid aggressive associate deceive emigrate flexible glamour hazy luxurious mishap overwhelm span blemish blunt capable conclude detect fatigue festive hospitality nomad supreme

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exclude civic compact painstaking supplement habitat leeway minute hoax contaminate likeness migration commentary extinct tangible originate urban unanimous subordinate collaborate obstacle esteem encounter futile cordial trait improvises superior exaggerate anticipate cope evolve eclipse dissent anguish subsequent sanctuary formulates makeshift controversy diversity terminate precise equivalent pamper prior potential obnoxious radiant predatory presume permanent pending simultaneously tamper supervise perceived vicious patronize trickle stodgy rant oration preview species poised perturb vista wince yearn persist shirk status tragedy trivial snare vindictive wrath recede peevish rupture unscathed random toxic void orthodox subtle resume sequel upright wary overwhelm perjury uncertainty prowess utmost throb pluck pique vengeance pelt urgent substantial robust sullen retort ponder whim saga sham reprimand vocation assimilate dub defect accord embark desist dialect chastise banter inaugurate ovation barter muse blasé stamina atrocity deter principal liberal epoch preposterous advocate audacious dispatch incense deplore institute deceptive component subside spontaneous bonanza ultimate wrangle clarify hindrance irascible plausible profound infinite accomplish apparent capacity civilian conceal duplicate keen provoke spurt undoing vast withdraw barrier calculate compose considerable deputy industrious jolt loot rejoice reliable senseless shrivel alternate demolish energetic enforce feat hearty mature observant primary resign strive verdict brisk cherish considerate displace downfall estimate humiliate identical improper poll soothe vicinity abolish appeal brittle condemn descend dictator expand famine portable prey thrifty visual

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stance vie instill exceptional avail strident formidable rebuke enhance benign perspective tedious aloof encroach memoir mien desolate inventive prodigy staple stint fallacy grope vilify recur assail tirade antics recourse clad jurisdiction caption pseudonym reception humane ornate sage ungainly overt sedative amiss convey connoisseur rational enigma fortify servile fastidious contagious elite disgruntled eccentric pioneer abet luminous era sleek serene proficient rue articulate awry pungent wage deploy anarchy culminate inventory commemorate muster adept durable foreboding lucrative modify authority transition confiscate pivotal analogy avid flair ferret decree voracious imperative grapple deface augment shackle legendary trepidation discern glut cache endeavor attribute phenomenon balmy bizarre gullible loll rankle decipher sublime rubble renounce porous turbulent heritage hover pithy allot minimize agile renown fend revenue versa gaunt haven dire doctrine intricate conservative exotic facilitate bountiful cite panorama swelter foster indifferent millennium gingerly conscientious intervene mercenary citadel obviously rely supportive sympathy weakling atmosphere decay gradual impact noticeable recede stability variation approximately astronomical calculation criterion diameter evaluate orbit sphere agricultural decline disorder identify probable thrive expected widespread bulletin contribution diversity enlist intercept operation recruit survival abruptly ally collide confident conflict protective taunt adaptation dormant forage frigid hibernate insulate export glisten influence landscape native plantation restore urge blare connection errand exchange

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feasible teem pang vice tycoon succumb capacious onslaught excerpt eventful forfeit crusade tract haggard susceptible exemplify ardent crucial excruciating embargo disdain apprehend surpass sporadic flustered languish conventional disposition theme plunder ignore project complaint title dramatic delivery litter experimental clinic arrogance preparation remind atomic occasional conscious deny maturity closure stressed translator animate observation physical further gently registration suppress combination amazing constructive allied poetry passion ecstasy mystery cheerful contribution spirit failed gummy commerce prove disagreement raid consume embarrass preference migrant devour encouragement quote mythology destined destination illuminating struggle accent ungrateful giggle approval confidence expose scientist operation superstitious emergency manners absolutely swallow readily mutual bound crisp orient stress sort stare comfort verbal heel challenging advertisement envious sex scar astonish basis accuracy enviable alliance specific chef embarrassed counter tolerable sympathetic gradually vanish informative amaze royal furry insist jealousy simplify quiver collaborate dedicated flexible function mimic obstacle technique archaeologist fragment historian intact preserve reconstruct remnant commence deed exaggeration heroic impress pose saunter wring astound concealed inquisitive interpret perplexed precise reconsider suspicious anticipation defy entitled neutral outspoken reserved sought equal absorb affect circulate conserve cycle necessity seep barren expression meaningful plume focused genius perspective prospect stunned superb transition assume guarantee nominate

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install reticent corroborate regretfully strength murder concise cunning intention holy satire query confused progression disillusion background mundane abrupt multiple enormously introduce emulate harmful pragmatic pity rebut liberate enthusiastic elucidate camaraderie disparage nature creep profitability impression racist sobriety occupy autonomy currently amiable reiterate reproduce cripple modest offer atom provincial augment ungratefully expansion yield rashly allude immigration silence epitome exacerbate somber avid dispute vindicate collaborate manufacturer embellish superficial propaganda incompetent objective diminish statistics endure ambivalent perpetuate illuminate phenomenon exasperate originality restrict anxiety anthropology circumstances aesthetic manufacturing conventional dubious vulnerable reality precedent entity success term critical repair underscore stepmother republican hesitantly classic wary contents prediction immediate invoke notorious implicit excluding input skeptical foster element punish frank humanity profound dessert orthodox substance disappear encourage neighborhood elder superfluous naive ascertain complacent resilient deafening military tend prudent glare acceptance skillfully induce monster beam gullible conciliate vessel petty cantankerous disclose archaeology anecdote disdain electronics substantiate subjective tourism advisable joyful incredible provocative psychological ruins discipline condone indifferent misfortune judgmental industrialize tasty assume astute mission mar protective definitely escape oppress shocked virtual zealous endorse qualification hostile eccentric abstract disparate geographical scrutinize generalization tolerate activity claim dogmatic influential obsolete extol implausible subsequent resource chronic benevolent improve confidential ambiguous seriously dearth perplex hatred throughout dine contemporary evoke essentially economic flagrant obscure alleviate eloquent dreaadful clumsy sympathy victim condemn vigor condescend spontaneous quell reprehensible substantially sleeve equivocal ironic decry errand articulate progressive eradicate refreshments elicit aspiration recently exemplary bribery theoretical disingenuous partisan revere particle nostalgia self-aggrandizement debunk tyranny rhetoric hierarchy warning whimsical venerate commend assert miserable awful vibe constrain undermine explicit differentiate compliment scrupulous contempt erroneous ideal refute imply cynical rash presume insight revival vary delay renounce indignant offensive temperate circumstantial export peep logo advertise suppress distort chunk convoluted denounce overwhelming fertility rigorous acquire arrogant university antagonize profitable indulgent strategic breathing idiosyncrasy profession frugal discern accommodation adversary incredulous disturbance digress social belie roam smug continual pertinent voluntarily elite subtle blame sincerity lick horror censure involvement candid infer futile impetuous exploit bewilder sustain diligent sincere protect sealed musical empathy callous parenthetical insure acorn sarcasm seize sacrificially allege emphatic irrelevant progress diplomatic stunned improvise deride reconcile meticulous deject scientifically incontrovertible pressure justify gloomy depict supplant endurance analogous diary bolster slip contemplate pesticide glow religious advocate negligent creator lament fundamental embrace throne inherent inferior valuable thrive trivial pretense reserved capricious refresh refusal flight boost explanation coherent prevalent tenacious official royalty assassin rub poach delete

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warrant circumscribed somewhat explosive optimistic mandate previously detract opinion intuitive feasible intimate persistent humble simplicity tempt deliberate painful unethical fundamentals discrepancy remorse pessimistic possibility conclusion acknowledge impregnate soberly creation paralyze suitability oblige tranquil medal arbitrate pacify illusory susceptible vibrate vengeance infection democratic stressful grave speculative sample identification stifle obligation revenge organization namely mediocre practical scream weaken consensus affectionate deficient treacherous console isolation ingenious memory melodrama despair awestruck composition regret recommendation celebrity decision devoid opaque ornamentation longevity participate dread restore interrogate aid accordingly mislead embarrassment optimism domestic apt funds virtue geography fundamentally thoroughly press despite horrible chilling rental esteemed disappointment innovative contemplation assign popularize haunt deafen serene percent estrangement suffer extravagant throng estimate comment priesthood mass dreadfully promote periphery animated saying relate clarity triple derivative succeed distortion register suicide improvement discreet inquisition probable curative incident praise convenience baffle covet dreadful genuinely weary undisturbed disgruntled humility renown nonchalant monopoly comedy vague decisive inconsequential announcement fabricated nevertheless vigilant scarce neglectful hushed attainment tedious explode snatch pslm agency sentimental tension adhere meanwhile sacred avert conformity likewise challenger accessible responsibility peril contact event roast fallible catastrophic competitor violate resolute deceive exaggeration discredit intolerable approve paste dimly novelist demeanor norm politician satisfaction obvious vehicle reservation defer involve restoration crush audible assistant backpack attain inanimate commemorate confrontation emigration parasite disperse quantitative laughter policy vulgar occasionally repay effective eulogy starvation empty therapeutic overall immortal encompass inappropriate opportune engagement illustrate turmoil observatory classification expression reminiscence comedian invention depress remedy protagonist gesture texture diplomatic election prolong conducive emotional invigorate curiosity expressive %

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