#i didn't even know it EXISTED prior to writing fics

[girlygguk]

FIRST CLASS | JJK (Teaser)

summary in which you are just another spoiled, bitchy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby who has everyone at Yonsei University eating from the palm of your hand. and jeon jungkook, your spoiled, fuck-boy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby best friend, is always first in line to take a bite.

uni au, rich student!jk x rich student!f.reader

[fluff, angst, smut] childhood bestfriends to lovers, pining, unrequited(?) love, they're likee chaebols okay, tae's sister reader, mega SIMP kook because i literally can't write him any other way, jungkook is a sweet fuckboy (if that exists)

teaser word count: 1.4k (sfw, cursing)

full fic word count: 25k (nsfw)

release date: july-16 @ 2pm (est)

>>> FIRST CLASS IS OUT NOW! <<<

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2 years prior ੈ✩‧₊˚ circa. your 19th birthday. . .

"Get fucked, Jeongguk." The words rip from your throat, venomous and sharp as they slap your best friend's face into a furrowed, exasperated expression.

You yank the jacket tighter around your shoulders as the cold night air whips at your skin, storming down the sidewalk. The urge to rip the jacket—his jacket—off your body is strong, but it's so fucking cold. You may be petty and possibly overreacting a little right now... but you're not stupid.

Jungkook's heavy footsteps trail after you, his calls of your name only pushing you to walk faster. He catches up in no time, your hurried steps no match for his long strides. He tries to gently grab your arm, but you shrug off his touch angrily, spinning around to glare at him. You're about to tell him to fuck off again when he speaks first.

"Come back inside. It's like a fucking blizzard out here; you're going to freeze to death," he says evenly, though frustration laces his words.

"Oh, please," you laugh humorlessly, shaking your head in disbelief. "As if you give a shit if I freeze."

"Don't fucking say—"

"I'm going home. You can tell everyone I'm sick and had to leave. Or don't, I don't fucking care." You turn away and start walking again, his footsteps immediately following.

"You're walking home?" You ignore his question, causing him to huff and run a hand through his hair. "Let me drive you home, please."

You ignore him again, knowing that if there's something Jungkook can't stand more than you yelling at him, it's you not speaking to him.

"Stop doing this. It's your birthday; don't let it end like this—"

"Yes, Jeongguk, it's my birthday," you seethe, whipping back around. "And you brought a random chick none of us even know to my birthday dinner. And you didn't even bother to get me a gift. On. My fucking. Birthday."

"Y/N—"

"Limited edition PlayStation, imported Swedish lacrosse stick, custom painted iPad from your favorite local fucking artist," you list the gifts you've gotten him for his birthday over the years angrily. Jungkook shakes his head, trying to step closer to you, but you hold up your hand to keep the distance.

"Do you even know how much effort I put into the things I get and do for you? And for you to sit there with that... that stupid fucking look on your—God, Jeongguk!" Your voice is on the cusp of being a whine, but you don't care. "Oh, but I'm sure you spent a decent chunk of Daddy's money on Winnie tonight, huh?" You don't care that the Daddy's money statement is also very applicable to you… you're angry.

Jungkook's jaw clenches at your words, and he steps forward, slipping his hand into the pocket of the jacket you're wearing. Before you can snap at him again, he pulls out a small velvet box and holds it out to you.

"What is that?" you demand, your voice still trembling with annoyance.

"Your gift," he says softly, opening the box to reveal a white-gold Cartier diamond necklace. "I was planning to give it to you when we were in private."

You stare at the necklace, your anger momentarily overshadowed by surprise. The diamonds of the pendant sparkle under the streetlights, and you almost let out a moan. Diamonds are your weakness.

"You motherfucker," you groan under your breath, glaring at the necklace in hopes it will dissipate into thin air so you can continue being annoyed at him.

Jungkook steps closer, his voice a whisper. "Everyone was coming with their partners, Y/N. I couldn't come alone."

You sigh, knowing that. Your comment was a cheap shot, considering Jungkook doesn't hang with a girl more than once, so it would be impossible for him to bring someone you already knew. But Winnie was getting on your last nerve, and you saw an opportunity to sneak in a jab, so you took it. Not only was the girl clearing glass after glass of the expensive wine your friends had ordered as if it were water, but she was also not shy about ordering the priciest dishes on the menu. Judging by her tiny red Zara mini-dress, you highly doubt she'll be reaching for her purse at the end of the night.

Your gaze is still locked on the necklace as you take a moment to think. Jungkook hasn't moved either, continuing to hold the box open for you while he scans your face, trying to gauge your reaction.

"It's, um, engraved and shit," he mumbles, his hand not holding the box lifting to run over his jaw nervously. "And I got a chain one… for me too."

Your eyes snap to his, and he swears his heart stops beating. God, you think it's stupid. You hate it. That's okay. He'll just wait until you turn around so he can sprint to the nearest homeless guy and give him the stupid neckl—

"Like matching?" Your eyes soften, and he slowly feels the blood flooding into his heart.

"Yeah, only if you like, want to," he shrugs cutely, and you can't stop the grin from spreading across your lips.

You're close enough to slide your arms around his torso but still not near enough for Jungkook as he tugs you closer, melting into the hug. "Thank you, Gukkie. I love it," you murmur into his chest, and he feels his muscles relax at you finally using his nickname again.

You lift your head from his black fitted Givenchy dress shirt, which smells a little too good, to look up at him. "But why did you say you didn't have anything when everyone gave me their gifts?"

He looks down at the slight pout on your lips, his fingers twitching with the urge to wipe it off your mouth. Instead, he flicks the box closed with a thumb and holds it out to you. "Don't think Jaehyun would've been thrilled with me giving you this," he chuckles. "The dude hates me."

You frown up at him, about to chime in and say that isn't true, but his lips tug into a smirk as if to say he couldn't care less about what your boyfriend thought of him. And honestly, if he were Jaehyun, he'd hate him too.

Jungkook had the necklaces made a little over two months ago, and you and Jaehyun have only been official for one. So, Jungkook's intentions behind the gift weren't malicious, he swears.

If you just so happen to wear the necklace and your boyfriend notices his matching one, which then causes a rift in your relationship, resulting in the two of you breaking up… well, that would just be a nice little coincidence.

"Jae knows you and I are close," you explain with a crease in your brow that he wants to massage until it goes away. "I made it very clear to him when he wanted to get serious, and he understood."

Jungkook nods along to your words even if he doesn't fully believe them. Either Jaehyun is a really good and secure guy, or he's full of grade-A horse shit. If you were his and another dude tried to come along and buy you an eleven-thousand-dollar necklace? Fuck, he'd knock the guy out cold.

You untangle yourself from your best friend and lift the lid of the velvet box still in his grasp. You coo at the pretty diamonds before turning to face away from Jungkook. You gather your hair before swiping it over your shoulder and letting his jacket fall slightly to bare your neck. Jungkook reacts immediately, picking up the necklace before shoving the box in his pocket. His cold fingers brush against you as he carefully fastens the jewelry around your neck.

When he pulls away, you let your hair fall back into place and turn around to face him again. Your smile is soft, eyes twinkling as you look down at the necklace. "It's so pretty, Gukkie. I love it."

You're so pretty. I love you, he thinks.

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spoiled bratty girl and her simpy best friend who knows how to handle her.....GIVE it..

—the full fic is out now! click here to go read <3

[lovelyhan]

Okay, you still have a spot. Great. I thought they'd be filled so, I didn't send anything lmao. Insomnia has its perks.

This is deeply self-indulgent and I'd love more Hao from you. So, hear me out, Minghao with a breeding kink. I feel like it doesn't get enough attention especially given how much that man gravitates towards babies lol. Like he and Reader visit Cheol's and see him with his new baby and, Hao's like oh, wait a minute. I think this is making me feel some type of way.

— terrified ⟢

minghao has a knack for keeping the things you tell him in mind. from your favorite brand of wine to how the idea of bearing children terrifies you—he remembers all of it. so your husband is in a bit of a crisis when he realizes that this newfound desire to start a family kind of clashes with something you trusted him to respect.

★ FEATURING; minghao x f!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 4.4k words

★ TAGS; idolverse, established relationship, hao trying (and failing) to play it cool about the wanting-to-be-a-father thing, brief discussion abt family planning, this is only a little sad bc hao has overthinkeritis, smut (MINORS DNI!)

★ WARNINGS; mentions of pregnancy and childbirth but nothing too graphic

★ NOTES; i scheduled to post this when it hit exactly 12 midnight in rj's timezone just in time for her birthday :> (pls look away if i got the schedule wrong,,,) i'm not really back yet bcs this is a queued post, but happy birthday, beloved. i love you more than i can say directly, so i decided to just write a fic for you instead! hopefully, i can come back and torment you with every other seventeen member BUT cheol soon :3c

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, multiple rounds, mating press, hao is just really feral in this yk

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti--red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @dearjeonwonwoo - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon - @todorokiskitten - @immabecreepin - @98-0603 - @peachhiz

★ MINGHAO TAGLIST; @haoxiaoba - @jeonride - @coffeestay - @hyvnae

In the height of his career as an idol, Xu Minghao filmed a certain piece of content where he was asked a normal question to which he responded with a slightly controversial answer.

"How many kids do you want in the future?"

"Oh, It's not me who'll give birth, so I can't be the one to decide."

It's a response that made waves on the Internet during the week the video was first posted—a reaction from both fans and casual netizens alike that Minghao definitely did not anticipate that he would receive when they packed up the set several months prior.

It's pretty much the logical answer, isn't it? Sure, he'd love to have kids someday, but the quantity isn't something he should decide on without his non-existent partner's input.

Minghao learns further down the road, when he finally meets and eventually gets together with you, that the number of children isn't the only thing that a couple should mutually agree on.

"I don't really want to have kids..."

You tell him this during a spontaneous date he deigned to take you out on. He just came back from a tour packed with a long list of stops and even if he should probably catch up on some sleep, he opted to have a picnic with you at the park because of how much he missed you.

Your cheeks are stuffed with a few bites of pie, thoughtfully chewing as you wait for Minghao's response to your sudden confession. If he didn't know you as well as he does, he wouldn't have sensed the waves of anxiety rolling off of you in waves—as if you're waiting for him to get mad at you for simply being honest.

Mingao heaves a quiet sigh before he pulls you into his chest—a tiny squeak caught in your throat after swallowing your food.

"Hey, that doesn't make me love you any less," he murmurs, pressing his lips on top of your head. "I know bearing children can be terrifying and painful, so I completely understand."

For a moment, your brow dips, a soft frown tugging at your lips. "I-It's not that I'm terrified... Okay, maybe a little. But—"

Minghao promptly silences your protests with a firm kiss on your lips—one that you find yourself easily melting into given the time and distance that's separated you until this moment. He smiles against your mouth, glad that you can be honest with him about things like this.

"No buts, if you don't want to have kids, that's alright," he murmurs before pulling away. "Maybe we can just get a dog. You're already close with Mingyu, aren't you?"

That makes you snicker. "You're so mean."

It's a brief exchange that Minghao doesn't really think about again for several years. After all, his career as an idol was at an all-time high. As much as he wants to settle down with you and start the next phase of his life, he's certain that he shouldn't step out of the limelight just yet.

But it doesn't take long for time to catch up with him.

One by one, his brothers are off to fulfill their mandatory service and the group's activities are at a momentary standstill. Those who were left behind go their separate ways for a while—Joshua expanding his solo promotions in the US and Jun taking up more brand sponsorships in China.

Minghao chose to stay in Seoul mostly for your sake, and the fact that this city is the only common ground between him and the rest of the boys. When Vernon and Seungkwan enlisted together, it was around the time that Seungcheol and Jeonghan came back with overgrown buzzcuts, while Joshua landed in Incheon for the first time in two years.

It was also the time when you and Minghao got married.

The event was celebrated among close friends and family with only a brief news article about the marriage of SEVENTEEN's The8 allowed by the company to circulate for a while. They did a good job at keeping things hush hush, and Minghao thinks it's only because it's been more than a decade since his debut that they're being so lenient.

But even if they weren't, nothing would stop Xu Minghao from making you his wife either way.

It takes a few more years for all thirteen of them to get back together again, but when they do, the first thing that Seungcheol does is invite everybody to his daughter's first birthday.

Minghao has met baby Suri a handful of times in the past. Seungcheol's wife visits them at the company from time to time, wheeling Suri's stroller into the practice room as her uncles all fawn over her until she's crying. For some reason, the only people the infant seems to tolerate are Jun and Seokmin.

It's pretty much the same scene during the party. Seokmin and Jun are the only ones allowed within a one-meter radius from Seungcheol's baby girl to prevent an incurable crying episode in the middle of the celebration. Soonyoung was not happy with the fact that he can't personally give Suri the little tiger plush he got for her, but Minghao thinks it's for the best.

But then, as everyone was finishing up with dinner, he saw you walk up to Seungcheol's wife with a familiar sparkle in your eyes. You're staring at Suri who's all dressed up for her party with a look of endearment—nearly gushing with how animatedly you're speaking with her mother.

Minghao doesn't think much of it. You and her have always gotten along for as long as he can remember.

What does catch him completely off-guard, however, is the fact that Suri is being handed into your arms and you let it all happen without much of a fuss.

Chan was in the middle of telling him about this martial arts move that he'd wanted to choreograph into a dance but as much as he wants to give the younger man advice, his gaze is completely glued to the sight of you with Suri in cradled against your chest.

It's one thing to see a woman holding a baby. It's another to see his wife do the same thing.

"Hao, look!" You quickly call him over when you catch his eyes in the crowd. "Suri thinks I'm worthy! It's been five minutes since her mom handed her over and she's still not crying."

The sight is so adorable that Minghao abruptly excuses himself from his conversation with Chan to rush towards you with clipped strides. His heart thunders inside his chest as you visibly dote on Seungcheol's daughter, and he isn't sure if he wants to give the feeling a name.

It eventually fades into a barely there throb in his chest when he drives back home for the evening. You quickly fill the silence with your attempts at looking at some properties in this newly opened residential area near the freeway and as always, your husband lends a willing ear.

"It's a little far from your company building, but it's much more spacious than our apartment right now," you chuckle, face alight with the glow of your screen as you scroll through the property's details on your phone.

Minghao hums before pulling over at a red light. "Hm? Isn't our place alright as it is? Why would we need the extra space?"

He half-expected you to answer with something along the lines of, so I can have more space to keep my book collection in or so you can have enough room to practice at home if you want to.

But all you do is let out an uneasy laugh, locking your phone before depositing it in the cupholder on the middle console.

"Y-Yeah, you're right. That was a bit silly of me."

The next time Minghao unwittingly makes the connection with you and the prospect of having kids is when Seungkwan's nephews are in Seoul for a couple of weeks.

While he and his sister are off to run errands every now and again, they typically ask Jun to watch over the kids because out of all the members, he's definitely the only one who can be trusted around children. Even more than those who are actual fathers.

But it just so happens that Jun is all the way in Shanghai to shoot for a historical drama, and for some reason, Seungkwan thought it would be a good idea to drop his nephews off at Minghao's doorstep.

"You're pretty decent with kids and your wife can take care of anything," Seungkwan praises while he ushers four year-old Hanjun into the room and eight month-old Jiren into your arms. "We'll be back for them after lunch!"

It's just as Seungkwan said though: Minghao is pretty decent with kids and you can take care of anything.

While waiting for lunch to cook in the kitchen, you both do your part in entertaining the children—Minghao pointing out different shapes and animals in the picture book from Hanjun's backpack while you quietly feed Jiren the baby formula that Seungkwan's sister prepared in advance.

So distracted with the sight of your soft gaze transfixed on the baby in your arms, Minghao barely notices it when the soup he's prepared starts to overflow from the pot. You scold him for being so distracted before he shuffles into the kitchen with his tail between his legs.

As he salvages what's left of the soup, Minghao tries to pull himself together. Sure, it's been a few years since you two tied the knot, but you made it clear years ago that children wasn't on the table when it comes to the two of you.

It's something that you both agreed on even before marriage, and Minghao isn't about to break your trust by saying he suddenly wants kids all because seeing them in your arms makes his brain short-circuit. He has more tact than that.

"Is it just me or are you acting a little weird?"

For some reason, you choose later that evening to corner him in the quiet of your bedroom. Minghao was just getting ready to sleep when you turned to face him with a frown.

"Weird how?" he wonders, praying that you wouldn't single him out like you probably will.

"I don't know, you were looking at me funny when I was giving Jiren his formula," you point out. "You only do that when you want something from me."

Your words make him sigh. Of course his wife would catch onto every nuance of his actions—even from his stare alone.

"And what do you think it is that I want?"

"Xu Minghao, we're already married. Cut the games and just tell me what's on your mind."

God, he really couldn't love you any more than he does now.

It takes several minutes, but you and your husband eventually migrate to the living room—cups of hot chocolate in hand as you patiently wait for Minghao to open up about something he's been keeping to himself for a while now.

He's rightfully nervous—hands clammy around the ceramic of the mug that matches yours. It's Game of Thrones-themed with a dragon's neck acting as a handle. You kept insisting at the souvenir shop that its selling point was the unique design, but Minghao was pretty sure you were excited by the fact that the printed text changes color depending on the drink's temperature.

With that memory suddenly drifting into his mind, the tension ebbs from his shoulders. Though he tends to forget, you're the last person who'll condemn him for what he's about to say to you.

"I've been thinking of starting a family with you," he admits—hitting his point straight to the roots. "But... I always brushed it aside because I know how you feel about kids. I don't want to force you into something you don't want."

It's in times like this where silence is more deafening than actual noise. It rings in Minghao's ears as you watch the steam rise from your mug and your husband lets himself stew in his anticipation, wondering how you'll choose to respond to his honesty.

Will you laugh at him? Will you be angry with him? It's a subject that the two of you rarely broach with each other, so he isn't quite sure how to handle whatever reaction you'll grace him with.

What Minghao never would've expected, however, is for you to crack him a relieved smile.

"Me? I thought you didn't want kids because having one would be detrimental to your career," you chuckle, taking the first few sips from your hot chocolate. "And you always kinda shrugged it off whenever I tried to ease the topic into the conversation."

"I did?" Your husband scowls. "When did I do that?"

"After Suri's birthday party? When I was showing you a couple of new houses?"

Oh. Oh.

"Shit," Minghao mutters, embarrassed. "I almost forgot about that. I'm sorry, love. It didn't occur to me because you said that you didn't want to have kids—"

"One time," you interject with a groan. "That was one time, Hao. God, can't a woman change her mind about wanting kids with her husband?"

He blinks. "But you said you'd be terrified."

"No, you said I'd be terrified. As an educated guess and to some extent, you're right. But it's not the having-a-kid part or the childbirth part that terrifies me, Hao." You let yourself breathe for a couple of seconds and it comes out shaky. Minghao has to resist the urge to reach out to embrace you.

"What terrifies me is becoming a mother."

The silence of the living room thickens when you say the words and Minghao feels his chest flutter with that same feeling from the first time he saw you cradling Seungcheol's daughter in your arms. Despite the questions swimming inside his head, your husband keeps his silence and lets you continue.

"Like, yeah, the pregnancy is going to be hell and god knows whether I'll even be alive after giving birth, but..." You hesitate, refusing to meet Minghao's eyes for reasons that elude him.

"Raising a child so they would grow up to become a good person is even more daunting to me... What if I accidentally teach them something wrong? What if they end up hating me because I can't keep up with whatever trends kids would come up with in a few years? What if they love you more than they love me?"

Minghao laughs airily. "Is that last part really a necessary measure?"

"It is," you insist before breathing out a laugh of your own. "Urgh, you get the point! It's just that... I'm not against having kids, but the responsibility that comes with raising one overwhelms me whenever I think about it."

"You know you're not in it alone, right? I'm your husband. Of course I'll be here to support you however I can," Minghao sighs before finishing the rest of his drink. "Whether you want kids or not, I'll go with either choice because I want what you want, yeah?"

"Yeah. I do know that. I think I've always known, but at the same time, I didn't want to tie you down," you murmur, tracing the handle of your mug with a small pout. "If we have a kid together, they might take up the time meant for your schedules. I never want to burden you like that..."

Your husband sets down his mug on the coffee table, carding his fingers through his hair with a disbelieving sigh. You were starting to fear that you might've annoyed him by accident, but when Minghao leans closer so that your eyes are leveled, you realize that is far from the case.

"Baby, our wedding rings are literally tattoos," he reminds you while reaching for your hand—pressing the inked fingers together. "I'm as tied down as I can be and you've never heard a peep out of me after all this time, yeah? So don't you ever think you or our future kids would be burdens to me."

Playfully, you raise an eyebrow at him. "Kids? Plural?"

"Hey, like I said—"

"Yeah, yeah, you want what I want," you interrupt with a roll of your eyes. "I get it Hao, you're a gentleman. But what if I told you I want you to fuck me on this couch right now and give me your kids?"

The wording is so crass that it could only be seen as a joke, except the reaction it incites from Minghao is leagues more intense than a mere joke would. The mental image injects a rush of corrosive want straight into his bloodstream and Minghao swears it makes him a little lightheaded.

Your husband lets out a shuddering sigh. quickly lunging after you to pluck the mug out of your grasp and safely place it on top of the coffee table. When you look up at him so prettily as he cages you on the couch, the sight makes his cock twitch with anticipation.

"Then I want that, too."

Logically speaking, you and Minghao can't just flip the switch and go into full babymaking mode after a heartfelt conversation and a bunch of impulsive decisions.

For one, you were still on birth control. It would take some time to wean yourself off it and you'd have to ask your doctor if it was safe to stop taking the pills at this point in your life.

Next was that Minghao and the rest of the guys are going to be preoccupied with their latest album—one where all thirteen men are back together after years of being separated. It'll go on for a couple of months and maybe a year if he's going to take their tour schedules into account.

And because he doesn't want to be absent in any milestone during your hypothesized child's life, you and your husband mutually decided not to actively try for a kid just yet.

But that doesn't mean you can't pretend.

"Fuck, baby, your cunt's gripping me so tight," Minghao groans, nearly hissing as he slides his cock against the velvety heat of your walls. "You want my load in you, pretty? You want to me to pump you full until it's dripping out of your pretty pussy?"

With coherence having long left your mind, you arch your back even higher as your husband continues to plough you into the mattress. "Y-Yes, yes yes! Hao, feels s-so fucking good!"

He chortles quietly and even with your cheek pressed against the sheets, you can still picture the smirk plastered on his face. "Pretty baby's in love with my cock. You just can't get enough of me, can you?"

"More," you whimper, the muscles of your pussy tightening around his length as he plunges in and out of your sopping entrance. "W-Want more, Hao. Need you to fuck me harder..."

Your husband is quick to comply with your wishes, gathering your hair with one hand while keeping your hips in place with the other. Minghao slams his hips brutally against yours, making stars dance in the seams of your vision as the head of his fat cock bullies its way into your leaking hole.

He's so deep, you can feel him prying your cervix open with a promise that you'll be filled to the brim if you behave tonight. And with all those years of being a professional dancer under his belt, it's no surprise that he's got enough stamina to wreck you more times than you can handle.

The first orgasm blindsides you completely. He'd just been whispering both sweet and filthy nothings into your ear when it washes over you like a tidal wave—inevitable, inescapable.

(Doing so fucking good for me, love. Taking my cock like a good, good wife. You'll take my cum just as well, won't you? Keep it inside so it'll take and you'll be swollen with my child. Then everybody will know you're mine.)

The second time it happens is mere seconds after Minghao's own orgasm. His thrusts have started to lose their practiced cadence and even if you've been in this situation countless times before, the euphoria that sings in your veins makes it feel like the first time all over again.

Minghao's cock twitches before his cum spurts in thick ropes inside your tight cunt—filling you with a warm sensation that has you biting down his neck to stifle your moans. The motion of his hips slows to a crawl as Minghao feels you clamp down on his length. Your pussy gushes around him with a delicious grip that brings him dangerously close to another orgasm with how good you feel around him.

"Fuck, baby," he swears, voice still hoarse with need despite the fact that he's fucking you into overflowing. "I love you. There's no one else I'd want to have a family with."

"T-There better not be," you say cheekily before Minghao is flipping you around so that you're lying on your back. The sensation of his cum dripping out of your ruined pussy makes your skin tingle with excitement, and the fact that his ravenous gaze is trained on your body isn't lost on you.

"Be a good wife for me and hold your thighs up," he whispers lowly and it takes you mere seconds to comply. "That's my girl."

You preen at his praise—no matter how pathetic it would make you seem. After all, if there's anyone who get reduced you into a cockdrunk mess, it's most certainly your husband.

Minghao doesn't waste any more time, he pumps his cock into full hardness for a few moments—refractory period be damned—before gliding the head of his cock against your slit. Your thighs twitch every time be brushes against your clit, making you cry out with desperation as he gloats at your misery.

"Minghao," you beg, trying your best to hold your thighs up just like he asked all while he's taking his sweet time admiring your pussy. "Fuck me more. Want you to fill me up even more."

"Needy little thing," he chuckles. "You want my kids that badly? If I fuck you too much, you might actually get pregnant, love."

"Don't care," you practically sob. "I want it. I want you. All of you—even your kids."

Fuck. He really, really fucking loves you.

Minghao needs little encouragement after that, gripping his cock tightly as he guides himself back inside you.

The new position makes it easier for your husband to pound into you—the weight of his thrusts pressing you into the bed with enough intensity to make the wooden enforcements of your bed groan from the effort he's exerting. He splits you open on his cock, spreading your folded thighs as far as he can as he drills inside of you with the promise of another load.

"So pretty and pliant for me," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss on your nose all while the squelch of your cunt with each pass of his cock echoes in the bedroom. "My perfect wife. You'll let me breed this pussy once all's said and done, won't you?"

You nod all too eagerly. "Yes, Hao! I'll let you use my pussy however you want. Just please make me come again!"

"So demanding," your husband sighs with a wicked smile as one of his hands trails between your legs. "Hold those thighs nice and open for me, love. You'll feel even better soon."

"W-Wait, I—"

Your protests quickly melt into a hiss of pleasure when Minghao applies ample pressure on your clit—lathering his fingers with your slick before tracing tight circles around the sensitive nub.

He knows you so well, been with you for so long, that Minghao already knows the ins and outs of your body. Your husband claims that making you come undone with his own fingers is a practiced art and that he'll never forget about it until the day he does.

So it's no surprise how quickly Minghao manages to make you unravel at the seams when he couples his intense thrusts with the added stimulus to your clit. You're creaming around his cock in no time—muffling your cries in the crook of your lover's neck as he fucks into you with the intention of filling you up even more.

"I love you," Minghao rasps as he tucks your head beneath his chin, pinpointing the height of his own pleasure. "I'll want no one else but you, baby. No one."

Shakily, through a haze of delirium, you manage to say, "I-I love you too, Hao. I'll always be yours as long as—f-fuck—you'll always be mine."

You twitch violently beneath the weight of Minghao's body and the sight of you so fucked dumb on his cock eventually pushes him over the edge. Your husband comes with a sharp breath, his white hot cum gushing into your pussy until it drips onto the sheets.

It's only when you've come down from that post-coital high that you realize Minghao is looking at you as if you hung up all the stars in the sky. You respond with a weak smack against his chest.

"Don't look at me like that," you grumble weakly. "I might think you're in love with me."

"Y/N, we're already married."

"I don't see how that's a problem."

As Minghao does the honors of cleaning you up after roughing you up all evening, you quickly realize that, really, there's no reason to be terrified at all.

Not when your husband will be by your side every step of the way.

⟢ end notes: i wrote this in a haze so if there are any technical writing errors, i implore you to just ignore them for my sake <3 happy birthday again to my soulmate, rj! i hope you enjoy your day to the fullest and i also hope you like this gift i wrote for you hehe ^\\\^ like hao to the reader, i'll always be w you every step of the way (i'm just a lil busy rn, so i hope you forgive me !!)

[starryevermore]

you said you were gonna come find me ✧ cardan greenbriar

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: cardan greenbriar x fae!fem!reader

request: part 2 of the cardan fic?? - anon

summary: and you didn't wanna hang around. she said it was just goodbye for now. he said he was gonna grow up, then he would come find you.

word count: 1,728

warnings?: dual povs, a little angst with a happy ending, not proofread

PART ONE | PART THREE

The local children were convinced you were a witch. Part of you wanted to tell them that you were worse than a witch—that you could turn them into animal of your choosing, that you could make them do things and think they liked it, that you could ruin their lives by virtue of existing. Perhaps that was the heartache talking, so you instead shouted “boo!” when you caught them staring for too long. You supposed, though, you fed into the rumors of your being a witch. You came into this town out of nowhere, lived far away from the rest of its people, and only interacted with them when you went into town for food or a new library book. No one knew who you were or where you came from. At first, you reveled in the solace.

Now, you were only painfully are of how lonely you were.  

When you left Faerie, you went as far as you could from your former home. Traveled up to the mountains, found an abandoned cabin you could hole up in. There were few faeries in this area, mostly solitary fae that you would encounter while on walks in the woods, which had been the draw. Months later, you found yourself wishing you had set yourself up in one of the communities of fae who lived in the mortal lands. Would you be admitting defeat to leave the cabin now and join them? 

It wasn’t all horrible in your little cabin. Being away from court and all of its expectations was nice. You didn’t have to worry about carefully mincing your words so as not to offend anyone. You weren’t dragged into dances you would rather avoid. And you certainly did have to let your heart break over and over again as Jude at Cardan’s side. No, instead, you could read and write poetry and tend to the little garden you had started. You could find your happiness, even if it was without the one person you truly wanted by your side. 

You wondered how Cardan was doing. Had he even noticed you were gone? Did he care? He had seemed to miss seeing you when you danced with him on your last night in Faerie. But he had also not made any prior efforts to seek you out. Fae couldn’t lie, but they could manipulate. They could twist the truth to serve their interests. Few were better at doing so than Cardan. 

“When I learned you left Faerie, this was not the sort of place I expected you to be.”

You stiffened as you rounded the corner. The basket you’d been using to carry the herbs you foraged nearly fell from your grip. You squared your shoulders, looked down your nose at the woman seated at your dining room table. “I did not come here under the expectation to be found.”

Jude considered the room. The dirty dishes in the sink, the wilted flowers in the center of the table, the open storybook at the chair askew in front of her. “So it seems. It was not easy to find you.”

“You should have taken that as a sign to leave me be,” you said. You crossed the dining room and went into the kitchen. Jude’s chair scratched against the floor as she followed you. You ignored her as you began to unload the herbs from your basket. “I left Faerie for a reason.”

Though you were avoiding looking at her, you knew Jude’s eyes did not leave you. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought Jude was fae herself. The predatory glint in her eyes, the way her fingers itched to grab at her sword. She was not still like fae, nor was she unnaturally beautiful like fae, but she carried herself in such a way that you could be convinced otherwise. By human standards, she would have been the most beautiful of all. It was easy to understand why Cardan would choose her. Gorgeous but lethal—the exact sort of woman he would pursue. First Nicasia, now Jude. It was just as easy to see that you did not fit into the picture. 

“You ran in the middle of the night,” Jude said. You looked over your shoulder. Her brows were pinched together as she scrutinized you. 

“Have you come here to chastise me for leaving without a goodbye?”

She shook her head. “I have come because you were invited to breakfast.”

It was hard not to laugh. Was that why she came all the way to mountains to find you? Because you didn’t come to breakfast? It was so ridiculous. Of all the reasons to seek you out, it was the silliest of them all. Your heart ached all the same, though. No one came because you were a friend. No one came because you were missed. Would Cardan have even known you were gone if he hadn’t extended the invitation the very evening you fled? 

“If I have offended the King, then I extend my apologies.”

Jude lifted her chin. “Tell him yourself.”

Your jaw clenched and unclenched. No. You would not go to him. You would not drag yourself back to that palace and let yourself be reminded why you had to go. You refused to break your heart all over again. “I have no desire to return to Faerie.”

“You don’t have to.”

Cardan stood in your bedroom. It was different than your one in Faerie. The one there had been full of extravagant things—the finest things he could gift you. It was full of gold and pearl and opal, glittering as if it all needed to be housed in a vault. But this bedroom, it had been stitched together out of nothing. Threadbare blankets, smooshed pillows, books that looked like they would fall apart with one wrong look. Cardan listened to your conversation as your voice floated down the hall. Would you really choose all of this over being with him? Was he truly so terrible?

The floor creaked under his feet as he stepped out and walked down the hall. Cardan could only see the back of your head, but you still looked just as beautiful as he remembered. His fingers twitched at his side as he fought the urge to run up behind you, take you in his arms, and whisk you away to Faerie. When had you taken so much control over him? When had he given it to you so willingly? When had you decided you didn’t want it anymore? 

“I believe I am owed an apology?”

You turned slowly on your heel. Your eyes narrowed, but Cardan did not miss the flash of surprise. Your tongue swiped over your teeth. Would it be wrong to take that tongue in his mouth? Did it matter if it was? “I apologize.”

“My, that was heartfelt.”

Your eyes fell to the tail that swished around Cardan’s legs. It was still unfamiliar for him to have it out, still hard to control it from revealing his base emotions. He tried to will it to stop, but it continued to wave around as his excitement of seeing you bubbled in his chest. “Would you prefer I fall to my knees and weep for your forgiveness? Kiss your feet until you are pleased?”

“Oh, there are few things that would please me more than you on your knees for me, but I would prefer to not have an audience for that.”

Your gaze flitted from Cardan to Jude, who was inspecting your collection of kitchen knives. Were you debating sending her away? He would enjoy that. He would like to get on his own knees and remind you why he cared for you so. He misliked the distance you were putting between him. Maybe if he begged prettily enough, you would forgive him for whatever cruel thing he did that sent you running. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I don’t appreciate learning that you fled in the middle of the night after inviting you to breakfast. Is my company so awful that you would rather leave your home than spend a moment with me?”

A scoff escaped your lips. “I didn’t expect you to care.”

Cardan stared. Didn’t care…? He was so sure he had been clear with his intentions. He sent you gifts—he sent you a ring! The ring…Cardan reached over to his littlest finger and slipped it off. Ignoring your noise of protest, he closed the distance, grabbed your hand, and slipped the ring back on the finger it belonged. His heart slowed to a normal beat.

“Why would I give you this ring if I didn’t care?”

You stared at the ring. “You have gifted me many things.”

Jude stepped toward you. Your head snapped over to look at her, as if you had forgotten she was there. She tapped on the glittering gem on the ring’s center. “Allow me—Cardan is not good at professions of love, it seems. I told him of how humans would gift a ring as a promise of love. He wished to do that for you. Usually, there are confessions of how one wants to stay with their partner for all of their lives, but it seems he forgot that part.”

Cardan’s face burned as you looked back to him. “Is that true?” you asked. 

“Do I need to get on my knees for you to believe it?” He ignored Jude’s remark that that, too, was part of the human tradition.

You straightened your spine. “I will not be a lover to the king.”

Of course you wouldn’t be. You deserved more than that. Cardan was willing to offer you more than that. All you had to do was give him the word. Without a thought, Cardan sank to his knees, captured your hands in his. “Then be my Queen.”

Your breath hitched. 

“Come back to Faerie and rule by my side. Allow me to love you as I have tried for all these years. I missed you.” He lifted one of your hands to lips, then the other. “I begged Jude to help me find you and bring you home. I begged her to help me come here. Please, don’t let it all be for not.”

All you could manage was a single nod, and that was enough. 

PART THREE

[changbunnies]

One & Only (18+)

♡ Pairing: Boyfriend!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: fluff, smut, pre-established relationship, some light plot to establish the setting, college au but it's a background detail

♡ Word Count: 4.6k

♡ Summary: Following a perfect Valentine's Day date, you decide you're ready for the next step in your relationship with Chan. You want him, and you know he wants you- and the only thing left to do is tell him exactly how you feel.

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): petnames (pretty, baby) corruption kink, virgin + inexperienced reader, mutual masturbation, fingering (f rec), handjob

♡ Notes: i wanted to upload something short (compared to what i usually write anyways) for valentines day and i’ve been wanting to write corruption kink channie for a while now, so what better time to do it! i hope you enjoy <3

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

You sighed as you flopped on the bed, freshly changed into your pajamas- next to you lies Chan, your best friend and roommate turned boyfriend, easily the love of your life, and you nervously chew your bottom lip, faced with the choice of what to do next now that your first Valentine's Day as a couple had come to an end. Returning to your shared apartment, nerves rattling away at you as you changed out of your prettiest, formal dress and now on the bed, trying your best not to overthink your situation. 

If you were being blunt and honest, you just really wanted to have sex with him- or at least take the next step in that direction. But the thought of it was utterly nerve wracking; every time he looked at you with his handsome, dimpled smile and pretty brown eyes, and you pictured seeing that same expression while he was hovering over you in your newly shared bed, it made your heart race out of control.

After an awkward, impromptu confession that led to you becoming a couple, the two of you slowly began sharing your space, until one day you stopped going back forth between bedrooms and decided to just share one. You chose your room to share in the end- Chan, the gentleman that he is, let you have the larger room when you moved into this apartment as roommates, and it was the natural choice when deciding which of you would be moving their belongings into the other room. And it was nice, exciting even, to help Chan move his belongings into your space until it became not justs yours but his too. 

But lately, sharing a bedroom served a problem- now that you slept in the same bed every night, you were becoming increasingly more aware of how badly you want him. And thanks to being friends and roommates before you were together, you knew had experience- experience that you felt you were sorely lacking. And it's not like you ever felt shame over the fact that you were still a virgin in college (as it's much more realistic than tv shows and movies would lead you to believe) but somewhere deep down you worried your lack of experience would make things awkward and unenjoyable.

That awareness of experience was equal, because in turn Chan was well aware of your sexual history (or lack thereof). You knew he wouldn't judge you, he would never be anything but kind and considerate, but it was hard to prevent self doubt from digging its claws into your embarrassingly fragile heart. You knew it was silly to feel this way knowing all that you do about Chan's character and his care for you that extends beyond titles of friend or girlfriend, but your nerves ate away at you regardless.

You kissed people before Chan, and that was unfortunately the extent of your prior experience. Your kisses were shared with fleeting crushes in high school, inside the confines of short lived relationships that never made it past first base. You didn't mind at the time- you weren't ready for more then, and you weren't going to compromise on sex just to keep a relationship going. But now here you were, an adult with little to no experience; and now that you were ready you were plagued by the idea that all of the awkwardness and exploration you could've gotten past in your adolescence will now be Chan's burden.

He wouldn't actually view it as such, you knew for a complete fact that he wouldn't- but the thing about self doubt is that logical thought does little to prevent it from taking root. And you felt terrible because Chan noticed you were feeling off since coming back to the apartment following your date; of course he did, he always noticed when you weren't acting like your usual self. You had such a perfect date together and now you were ruining it with your virginal rumination.

"What's on your mind, pretty?" Chan asks as he tucks the fallen hair behind your ears, the beautiful necklace he gifted you as your date came to a close perfectly adorning your neck. A silver locket in the shape of a heart, with dainty gems accented into the patterned engraving, which you opened to find a picture of the two of you after your first date. It was so perfect that you were speechless, and he admitted it took him months of saving to afford it (which was why your Christmas gift was something much less expensive in comparison and instead purely sentimental.)

"I-I'm sorry, I just.." you swallowed as you looked at him, your heart squeezing both from your nerves and from just how soft his expression is. "I was just thinking.. that I want to do more than just.. makeout, y'know..?"" You try your best not to blush from the admission, especially not when he starts smiling at you, but you can't stop your face from burning, and you turn your gaze away from his eyes, embarrassment taking its hold.

"Baby, look at me," he speaks softly but you can hear the smile in his voice before you even meet his gaze again to see it. It's a gentle smile that relays sweetness and care, but there's an underlying excitement beneath; because while he would never do anything to rush or pressure you along, he obviously wants more too. You're gorgeous, his best friend, his dream girl- of course he wants you. "You sure? I know it's a special day but we don't have to rush it or anything. I've already got the perfect gift."

You smile- timidly, but genuinely. He's so impossibly sweet, always; it's one of the main reasons why you fell for him in the first place. "Yeah, I'm sure- and I promise it's not just because it's Valentine's Day. I've been thinking about it, and I really want to, I'm just.. nervous is all. I've never.. you know.." You hesitantly meet his stare, your hand now nervously and unconsciously fiddling with the locket he gifted you that hangs from your neck.

It’s unceremonious the way his cock starts to throb from your timid words alone, almost shameful. He doesn't even know how much further than making out you're even going to go, but his body reacts regardless, independently from his brain that recognizes your need for slow, careful affection. There’s a million things he wants to say- “we’ll go slow” or “I’ll take care of you” or even “I love you” but his brain practically short circuits when you lift yourself from the pillows, locket dangling as you come closer to him, leaning down to press your lips to his. 

A moment of confidence? Or maybe you already knew all the things he’d say and didn’t need to hear them? You’re not entirely atop him- that’s still a step too far in uncharted territory, but this at least.. Kissing him is something you can do without getting in your own head about experience and desirability. His fingers rest behind your ear, his thumb stroking your cheek as he kisses you- softly and slowly at first, the way he always does. It’s always a build up, his lips taking their time, his every caress careful but deliberate. 

He always makes your heart race when he kisses you, makes your stomach do somersaults and blood run hot. Nerves aside, it’s undeniable how much you want him. One hand on his chest and the other in his hair, he’s careful when sits up from the bed to adjust your positions, conscious to not cause you to remove your hands from his body as you move in tandem with him. You let him lay you back down, catching just a glimpse of him hovering over you before your eyes are closing again as he kisses you. When his tongue licks your lips, you open your mouth to him without so much as a thought- it’s automatic, innate the way you welcome him into you. 

It always makes you dizzy, the way Chan’s tongue dances around yours, swirling and building the excitement from deep within your gut to new heights you didn’t know possible. This time however, there’s an added desire, his kisses and gentle touches more impassioned with the promise that you’ll be giving him more; more skin to kiss and touch, to feel under his calloused fingertips, to admire and love and venerate. You’re all he wants, all he’s ever wanted, really; and he wants you to know, desperately wants to show you how much he desires you. 

One arm holds his weight up while the hand on your face starts to trail away, fingers tracing the skin it travels over. Careful, slow, deliberate- it’s foreign but comfortable, somehow. When he hesitates, you affirm, you chase his touch, you pull him back, you silently plead with desperate eyes and eager breaths. Your face grows hot when your shirt comes off, his gaze hungrier when met with the sight of your bare chest, nipples hardened more so from the building anticipation than from the cool air. 

He wants to dote on you- call you cute, caress your burning cheeks, kiss the blush on your face and feel the heat of it on his lips. So he does, slowly so as to not overwhelm you, word choice careful as to not embarrass you. Your cheeks burn brighter, but you smile; a cute, shy one that his cock reacts to in equal measure to his heart. Pretty, beautiful, cute, he says it all as he starts to trail his kisses around the shell of your ear and to your neck. 

And you’re shy, impossibly so, but you indulge in the affection, as happy as you are timid and out of your depth. You can count on a single hand the amount of times he started kissing your neck during a makeout session, and you were always left wanting more but were much too sheepish to admit your building desire. But after that first time, when you were in the bathroom that night and saw the trail of small, just barely visible bruises left behind on your neck, you knew- you wanted more, and he was being considerate, holding back for your sake. 

You didn’t need that anymore, nor did you want him to- don’t hold back, don’t hesitate, leave your mark for all to see, touch and kiss and suck wherever you want. That’s what you want to tell him, but it’s hard to formulate that thought into words when the feeling of his lips on your neck and fingers ghosting over your nipples makes your brain grow fuzzy. He’ll get the hint though, you think, when you tilt your head to the side to allow him easier access to your skin and a whine leaves your lips. 

He can feel your body tremble, can hear and feel your breath hitch when his attention to your skin grows in intensity. Harsher sucks to your pulse point, more deliberate rubs of your nipples between his fingers- still careful, but no longer entirely delicate, as if you’re made of porcelain. No, his touches are now firmer, with more purpose and intention, more confidence now that it’s clear your admission of wanting more was not something said just to appease his growing desire to have you. 

He throbs when he pulls back to look at you; face flushed, skin varying in shades of pink and red, breath a near pant, hair fanned out and growing messy, the locket he gave you still staring back at him in the middle of it all. His fingers trail over it and you watch him carefully, trying to gauge what he’s feeling. “Should I take it off..?” you ask, wondering if it’ll get in the way somehow and he quickly shakes his head, leaning back down to you, his lips just barely touching yours. 

“Fuck no, leave it on. I love seeing it on you like this. Like-” he stops a moment, carefully considering if what he’s going to say will scare you off. But fuck it, you’re all being honest tonight, right? So why shouldn’t he say what he’s really thinking? “Like you’re mine. All mine,” he finally says, and though shy, you smile as you expertly play into it, feeding his fantasies. “I am yours Channie, I’m always yours.” Oh, you really have him now (as if he wasn’t already impossibly yours to begin with- you don’t even know the depth of his belonging to you.) 

Chan thought about you like this so many times- for years if he's being honest. He always felt guilty; the way he fantasized about you, his best friend for all his formative years and then his roommate, spread out for him and crying his name, clutching him so tightly that your nails dig into his skin. He just couldn't control it, and even his dreams, which were once innocent in nature (if you could believe it), you were there, whimpering on his cock, back arching as hushed whispers of praise were spoken into your ears, your eyes rolling back and drool escaping the corner of your parted lips. 

He wanted you, fuck, he wanted you, always have and he’s sure he always will. A single kiss and then he’s pulling back again, his hands trailing just over the hem of your pajama shorts. You unconsciously hold your breath, and maybe it’s his ability to read the nerves all over your expression that lead him to hesitate, capturing your gaze with sweet consideration despite how much he yearns to see all of you. “Nervous?” he asks and you nod, thankful when he kisses away the tension building in your body. 

“It’s okay if you’re not ready for that yet,” he reassures you, taking his hands away from your hips and instead moving them up to your waist, where he knows you’re comfortable with his touch. “I-I am, I want to, I promise! It’s just..” you trail off, and Chan offers you a sweet smile, stroking your cheek as you once again fumble nervously with the locket on your neck. “It’s a lot, I know,” he finishes for you, and you’re relieved he understands (not that you even suspected otherwise- he’s always been the sweetest guy you know.) 

He returns to kissing you softly and sweetly, his hands exploring the regions he knows you to be ready for, never wandering too far below your stomach. When he pulls away, your curiosity gets the better of you- you look where he rests between your legs, his erection noticeably straining in his sweatpants, a wet patch of what can only be pre-cum darkening the gray fabric. While you feel shy looking at it, Chan seems to welcome the curiosity, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Want to see it?” he asks and you gulp, tearing your eyes away to look back at his face. “Y-Yeah, can I..?” 

“Course, baby,” he replies easily, his smile growing ever so slightly as he straightens up to remove his pants. You swallow, blush flaring as you watch him slide his sweatpants and boxers down his legs. Rather than returning to his spot between your legs, he settles next to you, sitting up against the headboard and making himself comfortable. Chan looks at you, watching as your eyes travel and drink him in; you take notice of how his cock twitches as you stare, how pre-cum steadily drips from the tip, how prominently his vein runs down the length of it.

You're not sure what words are appropriate when it comes to describing your feelings towards seeing him bare, but you know you like it- you really like it. Your gaze makes him throb- desire, need, love, all wrapped together with a pretty ribbon of innocence and purity. He's being patient, but fuck, he wants to ruin you, wants to see your eyes well with pretty tears and body painted with ropes of his cum. "Do you want to touch it?" he asks, hopeful and raging with want- for you, your touch, your kiss, your pleasured voice, everything.

"Y-Yes, but.. I don't know how to.. how do I make you feel good..?" you ask with the cutest pout he's ever seen, and he truly feels like his heart is getting struck by lightning; you're going to drive him insane with need before the night is over. "I can show you," he offers, smiling when you quickly nod. You're amazed by how confidently he takes it in his hand, not a single ounce of shyness to be found in his actions, unlike you; you wonder if you'll ever be the same- able to act without timid embarrassment eating away at you.

Even compared to his large hands, Chan's cock appears impossibly thick, and you swallow as you watch him collect pre-cum from the head before he spreads it down the entirety of his length. His fingers trace the vein before he takes it fully in his hand, his gaze entirely fixed on your face as he starts to slowly pump himself. You swallow, completely mesmerized, the butterflies in your stomach thrashing violently. You look back up to his face when you hear his breath shudder, blush growing with the realization that your stare had an effect on him.

When Chan lets himself look away from your face, he notices the way your thighs press together, how you squirm in place as you watch him, yearning for touch- and it gives him an idea. "Can I-" he exhales a shaky breath, fisting his cock just the slightest bit faster when you meet his gaze again, "Can I see how you make yourself feel good too? Can you show me?" Your face burns hotter, your legs pressing harder together as his question rings in your ears. You swallow, impossibly nervous but equally as excited, and you nod timidly after a few moments of careful consideration.

"Y-Yeah, okay," you mumble as you shift your position to get your pajamas and panties down your legs. You timidly watch his expression as you settle yourself across from him, aware enough that he should have a good view of everything (even if the action of spreading your legs for him makes you want to cover your face in embarrassment.) Chan exhales another breath as he tightens his grip on his cock, licking his lips when he sees just how wet you are. You're dripping and it's all for him, because of him- finally, his dreams become realized.

Similarly to what he did to himself, you rub your fingers up and down between your folds, gathering the arousal on your fingers before you bring them to your aching clit. You bite your lip, shy as ever and embarrassed by the noises that leave you. You close your eyes in an effort to ebb away the shyness and focus on the pleasure, but you're still starkly aware of his presence, of his eyes watching your every move. You can hear his low groans and harsh breaths, can hear the sound of his fist pumping faster when you let out another whimper between your bitten lip.

It astounds you how something this embarrassing can also be so arousing- you don't think you've ever been more excited than you are now, and the mess between your thighs and under your ass is definitely a testament to that. As the moment continues, with you timidly opening your eyes to watch him again, he doesn't fail to notice that you focus entirely on your clit, so he has to ask- "Do you ever- fuck- put your fingers inside?"

God, as if your face isn't already hot enough- but it's a fair question, and you answer as best you can between the noises you fail to keep internal. "S-Sometimes, but- it's- I don't-" you try, though you fail to formulate the words you wish to say; partly due to pleasure fogging your brain, and partly due to not even knowing how to phrase your thoughts the best in the first place. "It's hard? Doesn't feel as good?" Chan takes an educated guess, and you nod, relieved he found the words for you.

He understands- your fingers are dainty, and it must be hard trying to get them angled deep, hard to find the spot that makes you see stars when you have to contort your body to barely comfortable positions. "If you want- if you're comfortable, I can.. do it for you..? Help you?" Oh. If you're being honest, you've thought about how good his fingers must feel so many nights while touching yourself, wondering about how good they'd make you feel, how expertly they'd make you cum. "R-Really? You want to?" you ask- perhaps a stupid question, but there's still a part of you that can't even believe he's attracted to you, even this far into your relationship.

"God, yes, isn't it obvious? C'mere, baby," Chan beckons you back to him, and you oblige. You crawl your way back to your spot next to him, sitting on your knees but with your legs still spread apart. He takes his dominant hand off his cock, bringing it instead between your legs, slowly rubbing and getting his fingers wet enough to slide easily inside. His opposite hand resumes the motion on his cock, and you unconsciously tremble- both because of the hand between your legs, and because the sight before you is so fucking hot (to put it bluntly.)

"You're so fucking sexy," Chan utters, starting with just one finger, pressing it inside slowly, and your reaction is immediate- body shuddering as a gasp escapes you, biting your lip as he pumps his finger slowly, ensuring you're comfortable and adjusted before he adds another. "Pretty, so pretty," he continues, the tips of fingers rub your deepest parts with hardly any effort on his part, and when he finds your sensitive spot you positively jolt, every nerve constricting as if thrown in an ice bath, body tense, stomach clenching as the pleasure builds.

"My gorgeous fucking baby- feels good, doesn't it?" he asks, a theoretical question with no expected answer, but you're whining and nodding your head, your hips acting independently of the rest of you, rolling and bouncing and chasing every ounce of pleasure that can be derived from Chan's fingers. He presses his thumb to your clit, simply keeping pressure there as the motion of riding his fingers provides all the friction you need.

"C-Channie, feels so good, think I'm gonna-" before you can finish voicing the words, you're gasping and crying out. You're hot, your dripping with sweat, you're utterly floating as you're hit with wave after wave of explosive pleasure. He doesn't dare remove his fingers until you've finished riding it out, but to his surprise, you grab his wrist when he starts to pull his hand away, your eyes glassy and pleading.

"More? Please, more?" you ask so sweetly, and again he throbs, licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you- debauched, dewy, and flushed, world shattered in the best way possible. "Yeah baby, I can give you more. Course I can," Chan says before he's thrusting his fingers inside as if there was never a pause. Your eyes roll back as you bite your lip, your grip on his wrist tightening as you grind down against his fingers, always meeting them halfway.

When you open your eyes to look at him again, you can't help but notice that the pace of the hand on his cock is sloppy and uneven, and while you doubt you'll fare much better, you decide to take over for him, to try to please him just as much as he has you. You hear him utter a quiet curse as he takes his hand away, letting you replace it with your own. It's a sight, a feeling, that he wants engraved in his memory- you, riding his fingers while your hand desperately pumps his cock, giving him your best effort and trying your hardest to make him cum despite how much your arousal fills your brain with fluff.

"Fuck, baby-" he groans, reaching his hand out to the nape of your neck, pulling you down to capture your lips in a kiss, his tongue shoving it's way in your mouth before you can even process that your lips are touching. His hips buck when your thumb glides over the tip, sensitive and leaking, your soft hands sticky and wet and perfect. You hold his gaze when the kiss breaks, all your shy tendencies and thoughts of embarrassment seeming to fade to the very back of your mind, replaced entirely by desire and need- not just to cum again, which you unmistakably want, but to watch Chan cum too, to watch him fall apart and know that it was all thanks to you.

The room is filled with the slick sounds of your hands working each other, of heavy, panting breaths, of low groans from Chan and barely restrained, quiet whimpers from you, a sinful symphony played exclusively for your own ears. "Oh fuck, fuck-" he grits out, clenching his jaw and brows knitting together as he tries to stave his orgasm off long enough to watch you fall apart again first.

You can feel his vein pulsing beneath your fingers, can feel him twitch and throb, and there's a sense of pride you've never felt before that comes with it- it doesn't just feel good to cum, you realize, it feels good to watch your lover cum too, to be the reason they're losing composure and falling apart. "Y-You're close, Channie? Gonna cum?" He groans as he nods, licking his drying lips as his head falls back, unsure if he can hold it back much longer than he already has.

"Yeah baby, gonna- gonna cum for you, fuck-," Chan, who knows it's only a matter of seconds before he has no choice but to let go, mercilessly targets your sweet spot, his fingers all but drilling into it as his thumb rubs messy circles on your clit. Your hips stutter before your body seizes with overwhelming pleasure, the pace of your hand on Chan's cock faltering as your eyes roll back and you surrender yourself to the blissful sensation washing over you.

Chan follows quickly, the sight of you cumming again on his fingers breaking the already impossibly thin line holding him together, hot cum shooting out and spilling on his chest and stomach. You collapse next to him, legs aching (your knees especially) and body utterly exhausted. Your shyness returns when he turns his head to look at you with a sweet smile on his lips, and you blush as you return the smile.

You're both messy, in desperate need of a shower and a change of bedsheets before you actually sleep, but you bask in the moment regardless. He reaches for a tissue on the nightstand to clean the cum off his stomach before it dries and becomes a pain to wash off, and the moment it's done you're back in his arms, being hugged tight with kisses pressed to your forehead, your warm cheeks, and then your lips.

You curl into him, one of your hands holding the locket as you return his affection, pouring all your unspoken love and affection into the kiss you share. Your first Valentine's Day of hopefully a lifetime more, your joy immeasurable, your love boundless; a perfect day with an equally perfect end. You tell him you love him as he helps you clean up in the shower, he tells you he loves you as he helps you get dressed before he dresses himself, you share “i love you”s as you relax into each other in bed. You sleep, happy and warm and loved, secure in the knowledge that truly, this is only the beginning, and there’s still years worth of experiences left to share.

[storm-angel989]

Okay so I saw your val and child fic and i got inspired to req as well😭 Lucifer x eldest!daughter!reader, what if luci and Lilith had like, a child before they fell. THIS IS PLATONIC OKAY almost forgot to mention. So like reader is like an angel (maybe with unique wings like luci?) and is more than tens of thousands years old cause she was born before they fell, and she can't go to hell or have any contact with her parents because heaven is worried that she'll fall too, so she's very protected by the angels. It'll add more to the angst if reader isn't even aware that she's the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith! Better, she didn't even know they existed at all because the angels tried their best to keep her away from everything about hell. I hc that Lucifer went to heaven to like, talk w sera to let charlie have a meeting about the extermination yeah!! So on his way, he caught a glimpse of reader gifting a basket full of pastries or idks to Sera in her office. After tens of thousands of years apart, what will he do? He can't fuck this up since of he makes sera angry, then charlie won't have a meeting at all!

Ask and you shall receive! I don't have a ton of experience writing Lucifer, but take a peek- feedback is always appreciated! Thank you so much for your request!

She looked just like her. 

Blonde hair. Wings that mimicked his own, at least, how they looked in his glory days. Prior to his fall. Her eyes sparkled with the goodness only heaven could create. Ironic, really, if he was being fully honest with himself. 

It was only a glimpse, a glance as she handed off a basket to one of the other angels. Sera’s secretary, maybe. Or one of the lower officers in her command. Honest Lucifer couldn’t care less who she was handing it to if it wasn’t him. After all, that was his daughter. 

Every part of him yearned to stand up, to blow these pretentious angels out of the way and to embrace what was rightfully his. To end the pain of a loss he had kept a secret from everyone around him for eons. 

But by the way she acted, he doubted she had any idea who he was. It had, after all, been ages since he had last seen her sweet face, bubbling and bright. Heard her soft giggles, her coos as he rocked her to sleep at night. Ages since the high seraphs of heaven ripped her from his arms as they cast him and Lilith to Earth, as punishment for their so called egregious errors.

Twenty nine thousand, seven hundred and fifty six years to be exact. Not that he was counting.

He tried to shake her from his mind. He had another daughter to focus on, after all. One bore after he and his wife fell, crashing into the underground world- a punishment for an external sin. 

At first, Lilith had cried. Dark echoing sobs that resulted in the creation of the sins of hell. Each of them one of the actions of heaven that led her to the loss of her daughter. Heaven’s pride, lust, greed, gluttony, wrath and sloth, all became embodiments of the third most powerful beings in hell. It took eons before the discussion of another child could even be considered. 

Ironic, he pointed out, that the crimes of heaven became reality in hell. But she didn’t care. He supposed in her mind, bringing to life heaven’s dark side was a sort of retribution. 

It was eons, eons before they decided to try again. 

That brought him here, to this moment, as he sat in front of Sera as casually as he could. She didn’t need to know he recognized his own daughter. Honestly, dangling her in front of him like that. How dare she? He should strike her now, his hands could leave burning marks of darkness across her face, a permanent scar was the very least she deserved for shattering his family. 

But he had another child to consider. 

You should be grateful, the commander taunted as he ripped his daughter from his arms. At least now she has a chance at happiness, a chance to avoid eternal damnation and punishment. Why are you not more grateful? 

Lucifer’s infant screamed in one of his oversized hands, and with the other pushed him down into the pits of hell alongside Lilith. Their punishment for daring to create something without the permission of a higher being. 

“She desires a meeting? With us?” Sera wondered aloud. “Whatever about?”

Lucifer snapped his attention back to the issue at hand. His other daughter, one created many, many years after the loss of their firstborn, needed him. Play it cool, Lucifer, he thought to himself. Charlie needed him. He casually looked at his fingertips and then glanced up at her. 

“I don’t know. Something about sinners and heaven. Honestly, Sera. What harm could come from a little….post extermination meeting? After all, wouldn’t you enjoy the chance to meet my daughter? You might notice a few connections that could help keep heaven safe.”

If Sera understood his insinuations, she didn’t let on. 

“Very well then, if you feel her knowledge will bring value to heaven. After all, the sanctity of our home is of utmost importance.”

Sanctimonious bitch, Lucifer thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his eldest, his reader laughing at a joke another angel told. 

In all the time that had passed, that ringing laugh never changed. 

“We have a deal then. Tomorrow, noon. And let Peter know, I don’t want my daughter treated as poorly as I was.”  He stood up and turned to walk towards the door. 

“She’s doing well, you know. Reader. She’s safe and happy in the hands of parents who truly love her.” Sera’s voice came softly from behind. 

Every part of him yearned to turn around, to rip her heart out of her chest and stomp on it the way she had done to him all those years ago. To scream, to gouge her eyes out- the worst circle of hell didn’t hold enough punishment for what this bitch deserved. What heaven deserved for tearing a family apart. 

But he had another child to think about. 

So instead he swallowed back his feelings and silently walked out the door as he chose to respond in the best way he knew how. He pushed open the outside door and lost in his mind, he tripped down the first step. 

A soft hand caught him from behind, preventing his fall. 

“I’m so sorry Mister, are you okay?” A familiar voice asked, worry evident. 

A cold feeling settled in his gut. No, fate couldn’t be so cruel. 

“Ahaha, yeah, just clumsy, you know? Thanks for the catch!” He replied as calmly as he could. He adjusted his tie, willing himself to not turn around. To not face one of the biggest sources of heartbreak a parent could imagine. 

He began to walk down the street, back towards the gates of heaven. Back towards the portal that would inevitably open up and toss him down into the pits of hell, where he could again safely hide in the sanctity of his office, again lose himself in yet another fruitless hobby as he tried desperately to forget the night that tore his family apart. 

“Dad! Over here!” Her voice sang out. 

Involuntarily, he turned around. Dad? Did she recognize him? Was it possible? For just a moment, his heart soared. Dad is right here, reader. 

The words caught in his throat as he watched her embrace another man, another angel. One he knew well. Every inch of him flared up with rage. Bad enough that heaven took her away but to give her to him? Of all angels? 

And they said hell was cruel. 

It took every ounce of self control to turn away from the scene. To once again bury the emotion deep within himself. To process the pain of yet another loss. 

After all, he had another daughter to think about. 

[twstjam]

Unforeseen

HAHA it's not a Matcha fic if it isn't edited and posted at 2-3 AM amirite I don't know what this is I was just brainrotting about Malleyuu + Yuu and Sebek friendship + my take on post-NRC and this is what came out of it. I INITIALLY planned to only write the first and last parts but then my brain decided that it would be a good idea to come up with all the other shit in between and now this mess exists 👍 This also features a few theories and hcs based on Book 7 Chapter 4 lore, like how Malleus hatched and how Draconia babies are made. Summary: Sebek goes missing and with Malleus's first child with you on the way the prince is anxious about the affects of unexpected events on his family and the future.

----

There aren't many things that can scare a dragon.

But then correspondence from Sebek's party stops, and Malleus swears his blood freezes.

He's sure he wears out the floor with his pacing, blood humming with restless surges of magic and throat hot with the urge to release fire as he waits with patience that wears thinner by the hour. Silver stands in the doorway, the disapproving gaze he'd imagine on his father reflected exactly on the guard's face as he tells Malleus to go to bed.

Malleus would laugh at the irony if he didn't instead begin to worry about the emptiness he'd leave next to his spouse if he remains awake until dawn again. Well, not that you'd be entirely alone.

Your arms are encircled around a massive black egg, held close to your chest like you used to do with the monster cat curled up against it. Grim rumbles like a motorboat, the only sound that remains when Malleus enters the bedroom and all conversation is halted.

You sit up, not without keeping some part of you touching the egg in some way, eyes alight with hope. Malleus's heart sinks at the way your expression falls at the frown he wears.

Referring to you and Sebek as "close" would be an understatement. Since your first day at the castle, the both of you have practically been attached at the hip, falling back into the familiar roles of your years together as students at Night Raven College. Malleus would call it an imitation of Sebek's excessive devotion to him back in those years if it weren't more personal; the two of you are often whispering secrets or nonsense, laughing, bantering, and smiling with each other despite your roles as guard and master. It's nothing like how Malleus is guarded and he sometimes finds himself feeling the ugly curl of envy at the thought.

Malleus can't fault Sebek for keeping his distance. He knows that his role as the future king forms a boundary between them that cannot and should not be crossed, but that doesn't mean that Malleus is any less upset about it.

Sebek isn't with you now though, and neither is he with Malleus, nor Silver. Malleus remembers a time like yesterday (at least to him) when Sebek would sob upon being torn from Malleus's side, but he recalls that on the day of the guard's departure, he had been insistent. Dedicated, as always, to anything and everything that would keep his lord and friend safe. You'd hugged him goodbye and waved him off cheerily, grin wide as you shouted at him to "Don't forget the souvenirs!"

"I'm doing reconnaissance, not going on a vacation," Sebek had groaned when you'd told him the same thing prior, shooting Silver a glare when the other man had muttered under his breath, "Seven knows you need one." He had redirected it, tired and pleading at Malleus when the prince had laughed.

(Malleus tries to remember what it was like; laughing. When he had lamented this aloud, you had called him a Drama Queen, but that doesn't mean you're any less worn with worry even if you don't share his admittedly exaggerated sentiment.)

"We should just go look for 'im!" Grim grouches, disguising his own worry behind drained patience at everyone's trepidation. He's practically your other half, (and more in tune with your feelings than Malleus is, he'd begrudgingly admit.) so he's as tied to Sebek as you are.

""We"?" Malleus questions sharply at your nod of agreement.

"The longer we go without a word from him the less I think I can wait, Tsuno," you plead. Malleus looks down at you understandingly, but his eyes are sad as he places a careful hand on the egg nestled in your arms. Guilt crosses your face, but the determination remains in your eyes.

"Stay with the egg," you tell him with finality, but if anyone can fight you on this it's Malleus.

"I care for Sebek, truly." Malleus cuts you off when you open your mouth to argue that I didn't say you don't— "But I will not risk the chance of our child growing without either of us by their side."

It's something that he has a firm stance on and you know that you can't ever argue with it, even if you're not willing to give up the vision in your mind of both Silver and Sebek also being by their side when they hatch. You curl up around the egg further, resigned, even as you murmur, "What do we do, then?"

"We wait," Malleus says, apologetic as he gathers his child, the love of his life, and their cherished animal companion in his arms. He curls his tail around them protectively despite his family being in the safety of his arms and his nest. He can feel Grim vibrating with unrelenting purrs against his chest, the furry little beast squishing his face against the egg as he kneads little biscuits over its curved surface. You settle with your head against Malleus's chest, dissatisfied but resigned.

----

Malleus watches you shriek when you lay your eyes on Ace and Deuce right before you bowl them over to the floor in excitement and he knows he made the right call inviting them to the castle.

Few humans ever set foot on the castle floors, not many fae keen on just the idea of it, but Malleus is the future king and he can do whatever the Hell he wants and that includes letting your friends come over for a few days to cheer you up, traditions be damned.

With Ace and Deuce around, the castle is alive in a way it hasn't been in weeks. It's not just a product of their making but yours as well, the three of you along with Grim at your heels always up to something in the castle when you're all together. Malleus is more than happy to watch over the egg as you catch up with your friends, but that doesn't mean he's free from your attention any less.

"How much longer is it gonna take for it to hatch?" Ace says in both amazement and curiosity while Deuce tries to wrap his head around the concept of a magically conceived and hatched egg (It's not really that complicated. Malleus can't understand what might be so confusing about it.). They're both standing around the egg at a distance but still closer than anyone else you and Malleus have allowed in the unborn heir's presence.

(That is, if he doesn't count Silver and Sebek.)

"Like, half a year, or something like that." You tilt your head up at him for confirmation. "Right?"

"Indeed," Malleus crows proudly, hand smoothing over the egg's shell. Grim hops up onto Malleus's lap and rubs up against the egg, butting up into Malleus's palm when he raises it to pet him. You smile with excitement, lips pulled between your teeth as you hop in your seat across from them.

"I can't wait," you chirp, linking your arms with your friends' and bouncing them along with you. "You guys have to be there when it happens, so make sure you've got nothing going on."

"Oh, you bet," Ace laughs, eyes shining with mirroring eagerness.

"Are you kidding? Like we'd miss your kid being born! Uh.... hatched?" Deuce muses.

Malleus hums, pleased at their assent, hands cradling the egg's sides lovingly. Along with Ace and Deuce, you were also planning to invite your other old friends from NRC to witness the hatching, which Malleus had agreed to without missing a beat.

Though he hadn't even been a minute old, Malleus remembers his own hatching. He doesn't think he can ever forget it; the overbearing loneliness as he broke the shell and gazed into tearful red eyes. Despite the waves of love that had urged him to come out, the room had been so empty except for the fae that had coaxed him out of his eggshell.

Malleus doesn't wish for such an experience to ever be known to his children.

He knows the image you see in your head of your child's hatchday, can see you proudly presenting his heir to the eager eyes of your friends. He can see them all now, gathered around you with the privilege to lay eyes on the future ruler of Briar Valley before anyone else; Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho... and Sebek.

Malleus's fingers curl, claws lightly scraping against the shell of his child's egg.

Sebek will be there. He knows that you haven't given that up in your mind, and neither will he.

----

Malleus still remembers the day, a year or so ago, when the two of you had finally announced that an egg had been successfully conceived.

His grandmother was the first to come see it, of course. She had manifested, eyes wild and frantic, in a burst of green flames. She at least had had the decency to appear outside of his and your chambers instead of coming right in, but the moment Malleus opened the door to greet her she was brushing right past him.

It was the first time you and Malleus (and possibly anyone really) had seen Briar Queen Maleficia so emotional. You had awkwardly patted her back in an attempt to soothe her surging emotions, but it had instead gotten you pulled into a stifling hug that had you breathless. Malleus had watched with both amusement and tears in his eyes as his grandmother murmured "thank you"s to you over and over on repeat while you reached for him with your arms, silently begging for assistance.

After that, it was time to introduce the egg to the rest of his family.

Though it wasn't her egg, Maleficia had to be convinced to allow other people close to it, relenting with a pout. She remained in the room though, so when you had returned with Silver and Sebek in tow, her presence was the first thing that they registered. Sebek had gotten so caught up with stuttering formalities that he didn't even notice the egg for a full five minutes.

Everybody else in the room were already prepared for when he finally did, hands held over ears round and pointed alike as he screeched in surprise.

"An egg! You have an egg?!" he'd screamed in disbelief. You'd laughed as he grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you. "I'm not dreaming, am I?! Please tell me I'm not—!"

"You're not—!!!" you'd shouted, and the two of you had both shrieked with glee as Sebek picked you up and spun you around the air. He had chanted his congratulations while you vigorously repeated "Thank you!"s.

He had put you down awkwardly when he remembered again that Maleficia was in the room, clearing his throat and recollecting his composure while you continued to giggle. His joy was so infectious though that it even had Maleficia cracking a smile despite being in the face of some of her subjects.

"Do I not get a hug also?" Malleus had tried to be lighthearted but he couldn't help the pout on his face. Though he was reluctant and still alert to presence of the queen, Sebek had relented and given him the privilege. It wasn't anything like the hug he had given you, but it was meaningful and personal nonetheless. Silver had joined at Malleus's beckoning and the prince had held them both close, so many words of relief and gratitude going unspoken but communicated between the three of them nonetheless through one shared gesture.

Malleus had looked up at the quiet shuttering of a ghost camera and saw you show a polaroid to his grandmother with a proud grin.

"Could you perhaps make a duplicate of that for me?" she had mused.

----

Malleus is unsure if Ortho's surprise visit to the castle could be considered a pleasant one. Perhaps, if it were under different circumstances. Perhaps, if he had returned with Sebek and he wasn't practically painted with injuries.

Malleus was in the middle of his duties when he had found out. He had been discussing with the council the search itself for Sebek and his party when a member of the castle staff burst through the door and unceremoniously interrupted the meeting. They were quickly forgiven when they'd frantically informed him that Sir Zigvolt had finally returned.

Malleus had torn through the halls in a billow of black robes, legs carrying him thoughtlessly to his destination, eyes like green spotlights in the dimly-lit halls. The servants parted and made way for him wordlessly.

When he finally arrives, both you and Grim are already there, sitting by Sebek's bedside and on his lap respectively while Ortho hovers at his other side. Malleus is momentarily relieved that you'd been informed first, but then he sees the state Sebek is in and he's next to you in an instant.

Sebek's slit pupils dart to him for the briefest second before looking away with a grimace. He seems to sink further into the pillows cushioning his back at his sitting position, shame evident in his eyes and the way his lips are twisted in a way that morphs the cuts and bruises on his face.

"My liege—" he rasps, and the fire in Malleus's chest roars and pulls.

"Silence," he commands, a little too sharply and it aches how Sebek shrinks further into himself. Malleus sucks in a breath and forces himself to calm down. He sits down on the bed, holds out his hand, and speaks, softer this time, "Be still."

Sebek opens his mouth to retort but you shoot him a reprimanding look that has him going quiet again. Malleus notices how Sebek doesn't retreat from you and he feels that familiar pang of jealousy again.

Now is not the time for such trivial matters, boy. Your family is hurt. a voice chides him in his head. He holds his hand over Sebek's face, and though the halfling twitches slightly in discomfort, he closes his eyes to the warmth of Malleus's magic as his injuries begin to heal.

As Sebek relaxes, the tension easing further out of him as his pain fades away, Ortho begins to explain what had happened, how he had found Sebek, and why.

As it turns out, the treacherous group that Sebek's party was sent to observe was also being investigated by S.T.Y.X.. Sebek and his group had gotten ambsuhed and captured— At this, your hand tightens further around Sebek's much larger one. It draws Malleus's attention, and a low growl escapes him at the redness of iron burns peeking ever-so-slightly from beneath Sebek's sleeve.— and when Ortho had discovered this, he had gone in and rescued them as fast as he could. Sebek's injuries had been worse, apparently, and there was only so much Ortho could do with his built-in medical procedures in such a short amount of time.

The young humanoid seems to sag defeatedly at this, but you're quick to reassure him that "No, you did great. I mean it, Orr. Thank you."

Even Sebek had opened his eyes to shoot Ortho a reprimanding yet grateful look.

"I can confirm. I might not be here currently if it were not for your action, Ortho."

Ortho's eyes go wide at this and he scrubs at them with the heel of his palm as dribbles of liquid stain his cheeks.

"Y-You're going to activate my crying simulation again, Sebek!" he chokes out. He suddenly looks up, teary eyes meeting Malleus's, and Sebek looks like he wants to stop him from speaking but he's too late as Ortho blurts out, "I hope you are not disappointed in him, Malleus Draconia, though I don't think that you are! Regardless, you should know that Sebek was really cool, even though he was the one being rescued! He was suffering from severe iron burns and yet he stood up to the enemy captain anyway and bit his arm off when he tried to grab me! It was like he was the hero!"

An embarrassed blush spreads over Sebek's cheeks at Ortho's retelling, his flustered gaze suddenly finding interest in Grim's silky fur beneath his fingers. Despite his demeanor, his voice is as sure as ever as he says, "Well, of course I couldn't just stand there and let you be hurt after all the trouble you went through because of my blunder!"

At this statement, Malleus turns to him questioningly. "Sebek—"

"It was due to my shortcomings that we were captured, Lord Malleus," Sebek admits, shamefully and yet boldly as he looks up to finally meet his master's eyes. "It was my fault. The solution was so simple. If only I had...." Sebek's brow furrows in frustration, his fists clenching, the one holding your hand wrapping around your fingers fiercely. "If only I was—"

"Sebek," Malleus says, gently yet firmly, a mere mimicry of your reassuring tone, but it works to cut Sebek off before he begins his tangent. "That does not matter."

His hands draw downwards, brushing against yours before carefully wrapping around Sebek's wrists. Sebek inhales sharply at the sting of contact but eases again at the warmth of healing magic.

"What matters now is that everyone is safe. Is that you are safe. That you have returned to us."

He knows it's selfish. As prince, he knows it's unfair and unwise to be so forgiving of one of his guards' failures— A single wrong move could mean the downfall of the entire kingdom, after all— but Malleus finds that he doesn't care. He finds that, with Sebek back in the safety of the castle, with his family— All of his family— back in the safety of his arms, he doesn't care.

After weeks of worry and weariness and heavy thoughts of paranoia and doubt, Malleus for the first time feels a weight lift off his shoulders and it's like he can breathe again. He remembers again the feeling of relief.

Your hand that's not holding Sebek's reach for one of Malleus's. He accepts it gratefully, looking down to return your equally relieved smile, but when he meets your eyes, the expression on your face is not what he expects.

Instead of warmth, instead of anxiety flooding out of you and tears gathering in your eyes, your expression is cold and detached; eyes distant, lips pulled firmly into a thin line, and brows fighting to not draw down in what he knows would be the most fearsome glare he's ever seen in his years of living.

There aren't many things that can scare a dragon, but right now, as he watches you, the barely-restrained fury on your face  and the chilling desire for damnation in your eyes, Malleus feels the fire in his chest snuff out, retreating to make way for the real beast.

[sapphic-agent]

I really hope my ask won't be seen as mean, hope to word correctly....bc your last post about how Eri and Shig do share some common ground. I agree but it irks me how LoV stans use this to make shig sound not so bad.

Many fics and arts where "shig saved Eri" exists as Eri is an accessory for Shig and nothing else.

I do see the paralels here. I do wonder about the mother....did overhaul killed her?

It's very convenient for the heroes to label Eri's quirk as good ...bc if she had just decay...she would be label as having a bad quirk. Maybe the heroes wouldn't care much. (Makes me wonder where are the healing quirks or medical advancement in this world)

But while they have a similar backstory...how Izu would possible know? I sincerely ask here bc AM went radio silence regards Shig to Izu, same with Gran and the police did a really lousy investigation (I'm assuming is lousy bc we don't see what they did and whatever they did it was one time thing) and didn't share the infos with Izu.

Does Izu knows about the nomus?

Im even surprised he knows shig is TENKO...but of course, such reveal is underwealming as fuck and him and Nana don't take at all.

Izu is mistreated by the narrative and no one talks to him ever.

Not to harpy on your post bc I agree this could have been useful....but like how Izu would know anything about Shig? Unless Shig tells or Izu becames the best hacker ever...or reads mind...he can't know. Ever.

I've said this before, but the reason Izuku doesn't understand Shigaraki is because they haven't interacted enough prior to the Final War.

Their conversation at the mall was a good moment. It shows that a) Izuku has the capacity to resonate with a villain's intent AND disagree with their actions (Stain), b) Shigaraki at this point didn't have a goal or direction, and c) it IS possible for Izuku to understand why hero society is corrupt. It also highlights the differences between them, attempting to show them as complete opposites.

The mall scene was a great way to explain the dynamic between them. And it's something that should have been expanded on throughout the story.

Admittedly, I don't know how Shigaraki's backstory would come up. But I'm sure it wouldn't be a hard thing to do. Didn't All Might pull up Tenko Shimura's disappearance? Maybe Izuku figures it out on his own somehow. Idk.

But to me, it doesn't even specifically have to be Tenko's actual past. It could be an implied thing that Izuku learns from watching how people treat Eri. Hell, part of him already has a clue from his fight with Shinsou.

(One thing I actually hate about Izuku's character is his inability to acknowledge the corruption of society despite being a victim of it. He started off being able to do this with Stain, but for some reason that just went away. He studies under Endeavor, even defends him to Dabi and tells Todoroki he's ready to forgive him. Lady Nagant spelled it out for him and he just... Doesn't react. Doesn't even think about what she said. This is on Horikoshi's awful writing decisions, but it's the one criticism of Izuku that's 100% valid)

Eri shouldn't be used for Shigaraki's redemption. I honestly wouldn't want her around any of the LOV, that's putting her in danger to make another character look better. It's the same issue that I have with Aizawa making Bakugou watch her.

But I do think that Izuku's experiences with the people around him- which includes Eri- should give him a broader worldview. That's typically how development and growth work. If Izuku was going to reach out and try to save Shigaraki, it should have been with an understanding of how society failed Shigaraki.

Saving him also could have meant a lot of different things. Saving Shigaraki from AFO's influence/brainwashing wasn't a bad goal. Saving him from himself, though, is different. People have to want to change, you can't make them. You can give them support, but Izuku wasn't in a position to do so because he's, y'know, a sixteen year old who isn't even an official pro hero. Of course he wasn't equipped for this. Most actual pros wouldn't have been

[bitchyfoxymama]

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship - Rhaenyra x F!Reader - Modern AU

Alternatively: We Should Be Lovers Instead

Warnings: friends to lovers, lesbian x bisexual, the children still exist in this!, Alicent playing matchmaker, brief mention of homophobia, Daemon and Harwin, Fluff, smut will be in part 2!

A/N: it's lesbian visibility week and as your fav lesbian author it is my duty to write WxW fics this week! Boys are taking a backseat this week sorry yall!

Beta read by @howaboutcastiel

...

"Rhaenyra darling, you're my best friend," you say in front of the mirror to yourself. You've been pacing for the last 30 minutes, "I wanna ruin our friendship. We should be lovers instead. No, no, no. Ah, come on y/n you can do this!" 

Rhaenyra has had 2 failed relationships, which gave her 5 wonderful boys who all call you auntie and whom you'd die for. But it's time to put on the big girl panties and confess your feelings to her so that you can either finally get together with her or move on after she lets you down. 

"Okay okay okay," you pull out your phone and dial Alicent, your other best friend and confidant. She's the only one to know of your feelings for the Targaryen. 

"I can't do it, Ali," you whine the moment she picks up, forgoing letting her greet you. 

"Darling Y/n, if you don't confess to Nyra today, I will go over there and kick your ass. How many times have I told you she feels the same for you and has for just as long as you have?" 

"You really think she feels the same way I do?" You know she can't see the face you’re making currently, but she can hear it. 

"Y/n, you were as much her gay awakening as she was yours. Remember in 8th grade at Lannisters’ boy girl party when the bottle landed on you?" She is hoping to calm your nerves just a bit. 

"Yeah? What about it?" You try to remember that dumb party that happened nearly 2 decades ago. 

You had just gotten your braces on the very week of Jason Lannister’s birthday party. You knew none of the boys wanted to kiss you since you had braces, and that made you nervous.

You'd realized you were only into girls not even 3 months prior, but had been keeping it in, in fear of bullying and the fact that you had a very obvious not obvious crush on Rhaenyra Targaryen. You'd confided in Alicent Hightower about your realization, and she had affirmed her friendship with you even though she came from a highly religious background. She told you nothing would stop the two of you from being friends. 

You were all sitting in a circle with an empty glass bottle in the middle. You prayed to the Seven that your turn didn't land on any of the boys. Sure, Harwin and Jason were good-looking, and landing on them wouldn't be ‘bad’ per se, but you'd dread it if you actually had to kiss them. 

It was as if the Seven, the old gods and any diety out there had been looking upon you at that moment because when Rhaenyra spun the bottle instead of landing on the one person she had been hoping for—Harwin Strong, whom she had a very obvious crush on—it instead landed on you. Her best friend since diapers. 

"Uh… you can spin again, Nyra. You don't have to kiss a girl." Jason eyed you directly into your soul. Like he knew your secret. 

"Huh? No, a turn is a turn. I don't mind kissing Y/n. She's my best friend. You don't mind me kissing you, do you?" She looked at you with those beautiful lilac eyes. 

"Y-yeah, I don't mind," you managed out. 

"Then it's settled," Rhaenyra said as she started to crawl across the way to you. When she was near, she sat down and gently placed a hand on your cheek while her free hand lay on yours. She closed her eyes and leaned in. You kept yours open until the last possible second, and only when her nose brushed against your cheek did they finally close.

Her lips were soft, and they tasted like strawberries. The kiss didn’t last long, but you wished she didn't pull away when she did. You both smiled at one another. You wished you could tell her how you feel. You never expected it to take 20 years, a few failed relationships on both of your parts. 

"That was the same night she told me she had enjoyed that kiss. That you were her own gay awakening, or rather bisexual awakening," Alicent hums through the phone. 

"I-she never told me that," you blush at the thought of Rhaenyra enjoying your first kisses being with each other. 

There’s a knock at your door stopping you from continuing your conversation with Alicent. 

"Hey, Ali, I'm gonna need to call you back. There’s someone at the door.” You fail to hear the excited squeal she lets out as she tells you that you'd better answer. 

When you open the door to your apartmentment, you are met with the eyes of the woman you have been in love with since you were thirteen, at Jason Lannister's first boy-girl party. Rhaenyra Targaryen. 

"Nyra? What are you doing here—” you don't get to finish your sentence before her lips are on yours, devouring you. You are stunned, and it takes you a second to kiss her back, which causes her to pull away. You snake your fingers in her long hair and pull her back into you while you kick the door shut with your foot. 

You both tumble onto your couch, a mix of kisses and hands grabbing anywhere they can. She has one hand on the back of your head while her other is secured holding your waist.

Unfortunately, oxygen is needed for both of you to live. If you could have it any other way, the sound of her moans while she’s on top of you would be enough to sustain you. 

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for you to make a move, perzītsos?" 

Little Flame. She's used that name on you for years, but hearing her say it as you've both just finished making out on your couch. It’s different. 

You hold her face in your hands as you stare up at her, a small smile gracing your lips. 

"You never seemed interested. You were off with Harwin and then Daemon. I didn't want to get my hopes up, but when I called Ali after pacing for half an hour worrying about what to say to you, she finally told me what I'd been waiting for since we were thirteen. That you had felt that same spark I did all those years ago." 

Rhaenyra lets out a hardy laugh when you mention Alicent’s name. She leans down and kisses you once more. 

"Ali sent me a text telling me to confess today. I said ‘to hell with it’ and came straight over." 

Your smile grows bigger on your face as you realize something.

"Hey Nyra? I want to ruin our friendship. We should be lovers instead." 

She smirks down at you as her hair curtains you both.

"Good, because we have a lot of catching up to do." she says as she kisses you once more.

[charmac]

They’re not allowed to read fanfic? Darn, I kind of assumed Rob found your Twitter handle from reading your fic since he didn’t seem to do anything else on twitter when he followed you

So it comes down to the basic idea of copyright. It’s not illegal or technically even banned, but since RCG are creators, writers, producers, etc. on Sunny and not just actors, it’s really a dicey area for them.

The copyright laws/legality of fanfiction is actually really interesting, there’s a long, messy modern history of fighting for the right to publish and protect fanfiction from studios and/or creators claiming copyright infringement. This use to be a huge issue where authors would send cease and desists to websites like Fanfiction.net to take down all fanfiction of their work. OTW (Ao3) kind of spearheaded the right for fanfiction to exist apart from what it's derived from. The T standing for Transformative argues that because fanworks ‘transform’ the content they are based off, they are exempt from copyright law, as long as there’s no profit. So we cannot find ourselves in legal trouble for publishing fanfiction. As long as it's transformative (aka you're not just republishing source material), it's new/original content.

So that means fanfiction kinda has its own protections in return. As long as you're not profiting off of your work, you have a right to claim that your fanfiction and the ideas that are new/original belong to you. Which means if there is ever any proof that a creator read your work and then a later episode (or sequel, book, etc.) reflected anything you wrote that was not already in the source material prior to that, it can get very messy, in that there may be grounds for you to claim they profited off of your work. So most creators (writers especially) avoid reading fan works.

You can see why for a show like Sunny they might be especially careful reading anything, since there’s so much you can do in that show. If RCG have an idea for something as simple as The Gang Goes Camping, for example, but they’ve previously seen or read a fan work that hit that plot they’d be pretty inclined to never make the episode.

The basic idea being that you don’t want to hinder what you can in good conscience, with no legal issues, write, so you avoid fanworks all together.

I'll give you an example based on what happened with Charlie: he was in public and surrounded by fans and one fan hands him his spec script, or plot idea for an episode. If he had read it, all of a sudden whatever was on that paper becomes a legally grey issue in the writers room. If they liked the plot idea or dialogue (or whatever was on that paper) and end up using something in an actual episode, what claim does the fan now have? Everyone at the event could potentially tell you that this fan contributed to the show, so it's best not to read it. Don't risk ruling out a plot line you may have wanted, don't risk accidentally stealing from a fan, don't risk the show ending up in a legal battle.

Also, first anon: I still don't know why or have any solid proof as to how Rob found my account, but at the time he followed me I did have a 5hr old Tweet with ~15k likes reposting one of his TikToks and calling him the cringiest person alive. I didn't tag him or name him, he didn't like it, or interact with it or any of the replies or literally any other Tweet that day, but I have to imagine he saw it and that's why he followed me. Degradation kink overrules everything else.

[staybabblingbaby]

Felix Tinder AU (First Date Part) A1 D1

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: You match with what you think is a Stray Kids fan account on Tinder. You get along great with the account's owner, and think it's probably your most successful match to-date. Little do you know who's actually behind the screen...

Word Count: 1,543

Notes: I've avoided posting this one for so long because I've ended up doing something completely different, and it's probably going to end up as a hybrid SMAU for the actual thing. Plus, I didn't know Felix was religious when I wrote this and now it feels kind of disrespectful... Still! That's the purpose of the Archive! To see the writing in all of it's stages! So it's going up. There is no sequential part rn, but there is another attempt I will be posting soon that's VERY different.

Warnings: Talking about Religion and Parasocial relationships at one point.

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist | Next Part (Coming soon!)

As you pull to a stop in front of the fanciest hotel you’ve ever seen in your life, you can’t help but wonder how you’d gotten here. Feeling small and dirty in your beat up little car, you pull out your phone. Tinder’s fire-y little logo taunts you as you pull up the chat you need.

Ah, yes. Tinder. The root of all your problems, honestly. Not actually, but it feels like it right this second.

It had all started a few weeks ago. You were going through one of your lonely phases, where you started trying to join hobbyist groups and downloaded every dating app in existence in desperate attempts to at least make a friend. You’d do this just about every year or so, despite the fact that you were never able to make close or long lasting relationships through it, platonic or otherwise.

You’d always end up too busy with work or burn out your social battery way too early into a friendship to be passing up the opportunity to hang out. Not to mention quickly getting overwhelmed with the dating apps and retreating from them post-haste. It was a vicious cycle of loneliness and social exhaustion that you hadn’t figured out how to escape yet.

Tinder happened to be one of the dating apps you’d downloaded. Though you always had ‘NO HOOKUPS’ in all caps at the start of your profile, Tinder had always had great results for you in terms of matches. You’d met several long and short-term friends through the app, though no romantic prospects as of yet. Probably not ever, given Tinder’s nature, but you’d remain hopeful, if doubtful.

It had been during your initial binge-swiping that you’d noticed a funny profile. With just a cute Bbokari picture and a few video game memes in their gallery, the fully filled out profile and simple name, ‘Felix’, had felt intriguing. It had seemed just a bit backwards for what you recall Tinder being all about, regardless of how complicated the profiles got.

‘Travelling the US for a couple months, let’s cross paths!’ read the first line of the profile. You’d weighed the pros and cons of potential long distance and immediately decided that you didn’t care. Your profile was set for friends, anyways, and you‘d long had more internet friends than irl ones.

You’d swiped without anymore thought and lo’ and behold you’d matched immediately. Still riding the surge of social energy that came with deciding you’re desperate enough for dating apps, you’d decided to open with a little joke.

‘So, is this a SKZ fan account on Tinder or something? bc i could b into that lol’

You probably should have expected the immediate reply, seeing as you’d made your account all of 30 minutes prior and he’d swiped on you first, judging by the immediate match. Of course he was online. It’d still caught you off guard though.

‘Something like that lol. You a STAY?’

‘something like that :p’ ‘enough of one 2 have a bunch of their songs on my playlist, but that’s all i’ll say on that’

‘aw c’mon, who’s your bias?’

‘nuh uh, i’ve said enough. k-pop babble requires level 3 friendship’

‘lol alright, i’ll ask how your days been then’ ‘How’s your day going?’

The rest was, as they say, history. The two of you had really hit it off and kept chatting even as you quickly grow overwhelmed and stop your swiping crusades. You tell him about your forays into building a social life and, when that doesn’t pan out, about your latest crochet projects. He, in turn, tells you that he and his friends are traveling all over the US for work over the next couple of months and provides you with silly hotel room anecdotes.

If you never thought more deeply about the coincidence of a guy named Felix having a Bbokari picture on his Tinder profile, well, there were millions of STAYs worldwide. It only made sense that there was at least one Felix bias named Felix out there.

It’s only a few days later that you feel solid enough in your budding friendship to ask a burning question.

‘Not to switch topics (i’m sure my crochet rants r riveting), but can i ask a question?’

‘(They absolutely are) sure!’ ‘I retain my right to silence tho ;P’

‘lol fair ennough’

‘I was just wondering y you don’t have any pics on here?’ ‘I’m p convinved ur not a serial killer by now’

‘I could be, you never know!’ ‘stranger danger’

[pause represented either by text or in fake text tbd]

‘i’m just shy’ ‘I like to talk before anything else’

‘That’s fair’ ‘I’m good at talking lol’ ‘you may have noticed im a bit of a yapper’

‘lol’ ‘yeah, i like it :D’

You had to pretend very hard not to be flustered after that conversation. And also try very hard not to examine why that simple acknowledgement sent your heart fluttering.

You’d quickly switched the subject back to ranting about how black yarn was the devil and despairing about your lack of ability to count. You may be minorly allergic to serious conversations, but Felix hadn’t seemed to mind.

Another week goes by, Felix keeps you updated on his cross-country adventure and you whine about how much you envy his job for letting him travel. He laughs you off and retorts with how exhausting it gets. He seems to be genuinely enjoying the hell out of whatever it is he’s doing though, so you don’t take him too seriously.

As time goes on your conversations get deeper. It’s towards the end of a conversation about religion, belief systems, and community that something shifts between you, ever so slightly.

‘ok but like’ ‘and hear me out here’ ‘religion is a parasocial relationship with a being of dubious existence’

‘lol what?’

‘No but fr!’ ‘ok so, like’ ‘listen it’s like k-pop idols, right?’

‘right?’

‘LISTEN, ok, so you know how, like, idols are basically manufactured to build a parasocial relationship with fans?’ ‘to the point some fans are actually insane about it?’

‘I’m well aware, yes’

‘Well religion is the same thing, i mean, think about it!’ ‘I have not met a devout Christian who wasn’t a lil insane abt their relationship with God’ ‘some are rlly nice abt it, but they literally say “our holy father who art in heaven” and call themselves his children’ ‘THAT is a parasocial relationship!’ ‘It’s the same w idols, right?’ ‘except the relationship is dating or friends or whatever image theyre curating’

‘right’

‘and think about it this way ok’ ‘the reason parasocial relationships are treated with cuation despite our predisposition to them as humans in the digital age is because they get dangerous when people delude themselves into thinking its real’ ‘It’s the same thing with religion except theyre encouraged 2 believe its all real in an attempt to instill them with certain morals’ ‘That’s how you get religous extremests’

‘I hadn’t thought of it that way’

‘and don’t get me wrong! I eat that shit up. I’m on bubble and all sorts. it’s just a facinating parallel between religon and fan spaces and the communities they create.’ ‘some fandoms are more organized than some churches i’ve seen’

‘i think this is the first time you’ve mentioned k-pop since we started talking’ ‘so you’re on bubble, huh? interesting’

‘Noooo my babbling has betrayed me!’ ‘I always knew it would T^T’

‘lol i still wanna know who your bias is’

‘you’ll die wondering’

‘well, then, what are your thoughts about meeting an idol?’

‘what is this, an interview?’

‘maybe’

‘lol ok’

‘i mean, in the vein of all fans, i’d be thrilled? ig?’

‘ig?’

‘Well, i’m kinda scared lol’ ‘idols intimidate me’

‘aw why are you scared?! i’m sure they’re lovely’

‘lol they’d have to b xD’ ‘idk man they just scare me! If i saw an idol in the wild i’d flee, no hesitation’ ‘poof, gone’

‘lolol imagine that poor idol saw you book it the other direction’

‘they’d survive lol’ ‘but nah, yeah, i’d be thrilled to meet an idol but i’d pass out i think’

‘well don’t do that’

‘listen, strangers scare me enough, attractive strangers that i admire very much? terrifying’

‘fair enough ig’ ‘so you wouldn’t talk to an idol if given the chance?’

‘y r u so interested? this is a weird line of question’

‘i’m just curious!’

‘i mean, depends on the context? a fan sign or something i’d probably b fine, if a nervous wreck, but like’ ‘in public?’ ‘I’d prolly keep my distance’ ‘like’ ‘Idols deserve their privacy too, yknow?’ ‘nerves aside, leaving them tf alone would just be the polite thing’ ‘idols are people too, yknow? I try not to forget that, regardless of how godly their music’

‘I agree’ ‘I think they’d appriciate that’

‘right? and, like, if i ever met an idol i’d have to confront the reality that they themselves are real, yknow?’ ‘it wouldn’t make me less of a fan but i’d def feel weird about several fan activities’

‘lol like what?’

‘wouldn’t you like to know weather boy?’

After that conversation, you couldn’t put your finger on it, but something had shifted in your friendship.

[aparticularbandit]

i'm putting this in a separate post because it's important.

when writing something that involves a mystery, it is important that the detective not pull on information that the reader has not seen in the project you are writing.

what this means is that in a multi-project series, you can build on what the reader knows from previous entries provided that the detective (or other characters) have been seen thinking about that clue in the current installment.

dr2's climax fumbles this in that yes, multiple characters have questioned hajime's existence throughout the installment - from the ??? about his ultimate talent to nagito's insistence that he's from the reserve course - the mystery of hajime is a big deal!

but the reveal that he is human experiment izuru kamukura in the climax does not hit because, even though izuru kamukura and the mystery of who/what he is was brought up in a previous danganronpa installment (dr0), it is not mentioned anywhere in dr2 prior to the final chapter where suddenly it is a big deal. (and even as someone who read dr0 and knew about the reveal prior to playing dr2, it still didn't hit, but that's a different thing.)

unfortunate as it may be, the mystery of your current installment must also be accessible to people who haven't engaged with all of the earlier installments.

...usually this means, in a longer series, that you have a previously on segment to catch a new reader up on what's happened if they pick up book twenty-three without having read the other books.

and this is why in my current second write chapter, despite the fact that based on a singular line in a previous chapter it can be inferred that my amnesiac character has remembered a thing, i can't use that to bear major weight in the fic proper. the reader did not see that. they know the thing that was mentioned in the comment (and some of them might understand the implication of what she remembers), but unless i have shown you the exact etc. of what is being remembered, i can't suddenly say later oh, actually, she remembers all the implications of this now.

i can use some of it.

but not all of it.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

hi there! you are once again about to see a message regarding your chainsaw man fics. specifically the makima x reader duology :D absolutely gorgeous fics. I would love to know what Makima's perspective was of the events of part 1. Do you think she had birds spying on reader? Do you think she somehow heard the convos with the shopkeep and understood what they were saying? (my personal headcanon is that she knows, like, every language. fear is a universal language and the Control Devil has existed since the dawn of time!) anyways, thank you so much for writing such an incredible piece of literature :)))

Oooh I think this is the first time someone's ever asked about Makima's perspective of the events of part 1!

Before she developed any sort of interest in the reader, she didn't really have enough interest to specifically spy on her. She didn't think much of their partnership in general other than the fact that they were partners for however long until the reader either died or otherwise retired from being a devil hunter.

Once her interest was piqued by Reader refusing to listen to her, Makima's focus was on testing to see if Reader's refusal to listen to her orders was a one time thing. So she kept on giving subtle orders for an extended period of time, testing to see how Reader would react to them. When the order refusals kept on happening, Makima is pretty much in awe after that. I didn't write the scene with the shopkeep with Makima spying on that conversation in mind but I do see there being instances where Makima does start doing that before their relationship together. By part 2, it's something she does around the time Reader is expected to show up to their home to make sure that you get home safely. It's no different than a cat looking out the window waiting for its human to pop back up.

But using animals to spy on Reader and your whereabouts isn't something Makima does consistently.

By offering the contract not to use her abilities as the Control Devil on you, she essentially was placing her trust in the relationship she has with you. That she's managed to craft a relationship where she didn't need her abilities to force someone to care about her. That you'll always come home to her because you choose to. That you will always choose her.

But prior to that relationship being established, Makima sucks at connecting with people and it wasn't like the Reader was fond of Makima for a while so she was still lonely. So having someone who was simply human and wasn't an all-powerful being as a prospective equal was pretty much a beacon of light for Makima.

So Reader reaching out to invite Makima to dinner after work was pretty much a gift in her eyes. All without Makima having to tell you to do so. So from that moment on she stops using her power to connect with you, it's just hard to control the urge when she is dealing with her insecurities, her inexperience with a normal relationship and her envy regarding your relationship with Himeko.

Himeko is pretty much seen as a threat in part 1 before you start dating. Makima's definitely contemplated killing her and getting rid of her but it isn't something she thinks about (often) when you start going out together. At that point your relationship with Himeko is a minor wrinkle she can't really iron at.

Makima's biggest worry at that point in time was whether or not she could consistently remain in this relationship with Reader as they were without ever succumbing to her nature as the Control Devil. Sometimes wondering if the entire relationship was simply just a dream she'd eventually wake up from. Or that even the Reader would decide that someone like Makima isn't worth being with which only makes her desire to control the reader stronger.

Hoping that she could give an order that Reader could succumb to. There's relief in that hypothetical reassurance it would give that you would be incapable of leaving her.

But that hypothetical relief is immediately washed over by despair and anxiety because if there was ever an order you could succumb to, that would only solidify that she can't make equal relationships with anybody. That only one being could do it.

Which is why she orders the Reader to sleep with her towards the end of the story, which you thankfully refuse before she divulges the truth about her identity. Something you take in stride rather than recoil in fear, leaving her alone.

Instead you stay and accept her contract of a lifetime, marriage in her eyes. So staying with the Bureau was meaningless at that point. She wanted a simple life with her beloved, so she left. There was no need for idols like Chainsaw Man and seeing if he could be found if Makima already had the relationship she wanted.

So from there, you and Makima live together in abstract bliss in a new city until... some unfortunate events happen in part 2. But hey you find each other again so it all works out!

[kimpossibly]

beneath the ice (peter prior)

pairing: peter prior x fem!reader

summary: sometimes following a lead can be a deadly pursuit with unforseen circumstances. especially in ennis.

wc: 4k

warnings: situations of peril (description of a near drowning), swearing, blood, hospitals, peter and kayla r separated and getting a divorce sorryyy, kissing/making out

author's note: HI SORRY I DISAPPEARED FOR FOREVER HI HELLO HOW ARE YOU. i started college last fall so i guess i just got caught up in the swing of things and really lost my game, but here i am! can't promise i won't disappear again as i still do have to finish up the semester (and i may be writing an original novel *winky face*) but i just HAD to come on here and rant because the true detective brainrot is real guys. so so real. i was literally looking for content after the first ep and i was like wait...it doesn't even exist yet which is SO CRAZY because usually i write for/obsess over characters with so much content already out there so like. i guess i gotta make the content this time??? let me know if you want more peter fics because the brainrot is REALLLL. okay, love you! hope you enjoy!

"This is a bad idea."

"Yeah, probably."

Y/N had had it up to here with Peter's complaints. They stood at the edge of the frozen lake, their flashlights beaming over the glassy surface. It was around three o'clock, the sixth day of dark. Y/N still didn't feel fully adjusted to the constant darkness, especially with the case of the Tsalal station in full force. Sleep was a rare commodity nowadays, and she usually relied on that sleep to keep her sense of night and day in check. She wasn't getting any of that now.

"We're not going to be able to see anything from here," she muttered, squinting out at the lake. She took a tentative step off the snowy edge and tested the ice, putting half her weight on it to see if it would hold.

Peter saw what she was thinking before she did it, and he was going to do his damned best not to let it happen. "You're not going out there."

Y/N looked back at him. "I used to be a dancer, remember? I'm light on my feet."

"You were a tap dancer."

"Same difference."

She put one foot on the ice, taking a step forward. There was a little creaking sound as the ice adjusted to her weight, but it held. Peter caught her arm before she could take another. "Y/N."

She pursed her lips. "You can come with me if you want, but it might only hold one of us. Your choice."

"We'll call someone. We'll call Danvers, or—"

"We're here now. We might as well get out there and start looking."

He didn't like this idea. He did not like this plan. But Y/N had, seemingly, set on it. There wasn't much he could do now to stop her. He couldn't beat her, and joining her would probably make things worse. All he could do now was watch her. "Stay close to the edge."

Y/N grinned. "I knew you'd come around."

She turned and aimed her beam of light at the glassy ice, taking a few, slow steps forward. She could see straight through the glass now, to the rocky bottom below. If her lead was right...something would be here. Awena Lake. Something was here.

She traversed farther and farther onto the frozen surface, the wind whipping her hair around her face. She was far. Too far, in Peter's opinion. He was about to call out to her when suddenly she stopped, staring down at a place in the ice.

What he didn't know was that she was staring down at a face.

She whispered something her voice quiet, terrified. Then, a scream. Y/N fell to her knees, punching at the ice, trying to break through.

"Y/N!"

She heard Peter calling her name, but she could only focus on breaking through that ice. Punched and punched and punched until her knuckles split and suddenly the ice below her was getting painted with blood every time she brought a fist down. She was almost in a trance, beating away at the solid glacial matter that just wouldn't break.

But then, of course, it did.

It happened so quick that Peter couldn't missed it if he blinked at the wrong moment. One second he was taking slow, cautious steps onto the ice, heading to get Y/N before she did something really stupid. The next second there was a sound like breaking plaster and a splash, and Y/N disappeared under the ice.

She felt hands grasping at her, trying to pull her down. And a voice—there was definitely a voice. She couldn't quite make it out. She opened her mouth to scream back, and as the cold water rushed into her lungs, her lips formed one question: what happened to you?

Her vision went black before she got an answer.

Music. The first thing she noticed when she woke up was the music. And the fact that she was warm, when the last thing she remembered being was really f-cking cold. Her eyelids stuck together as she slowly blinked open, the dim lighting of the hospital room slowly coming into focus. She tried to flex her fingers and found them stiff as ice (no pun intended). She saw the white bandage wrapped around her hands, purple bruises around her wrist and near the tips of her fingers. Jesus. She'd done some damage on that ice.

The fucking music. It was some oldie—70s, probably. It was playing softly from the corner, and she turned her stiff neck to see Peter slumped in a chair, staring down at his phone. What a loser. She cleared her throat to test her voice.

"If you're on TikTok right now, I'll fucking kill you."

Peter jumped at the sudden sound, his phone clattering to the ground. Y/N laughed, though it quickly turned into a wheezy cough. She sat up, a bandaged hand covering her mouth as she continued to choke. Peter rushed to her side, filling up a paper cup with the water pitcher on the bedside table. He handed it to her and she waited for the coughs to dissipate a bit before taking a gulp of the cold water. She sucked in a breath and found her ribs fighting back against the stretch. Everything was sore. Which, she reminded herself, was her own fault.

"Do you want me to call the doctor?" he asked, dragging the chair closer to sit beside her.

Y/N shook her head. "Nah. M'fine."

He gave her a look, and she clarified, "As fine as I can be."

Peter looked like he wanted to say something for a moment, but held it back. Y/N noticed a manila file on the other side of her and raised an eyebrow, reaching for it. Even leaning over caused her ribs to scream back in pain, but the snatched the folder anyway, flipping it open to see her own medical chart. "Hypothermia, boxer's fracture in both hands, ventricular fibrillation...Jesus. Okay, so I did some damage. My bad."

"What the fuck, Y/N?"

She looked up from her file. Peter had a look on his face she couldn't quite parse. Anger? Pity? Whatever it was, it was heightened by the fact that his under eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them. He stood up, pacing a bit. "Can you stop treating this like it's some fucking joke? You fell through the ice. I had to call Danvers and tell her you almost got yourself killed following some shit lead. You know what she said?"

Y/N stayed silent, fearing that whatever she said would make things worse.

"She asked me why the fuck I didn't stop you."

Y/N wanted to bite back, to yell that it wasn't his responsibility to tell her what to do and what not to do. But, she reminded herself, he probably knew that. It didn't matter. If Danvers said he should've stopped her, he should've stopped her. At least, that's probably how it went in his mind.

She said nothing. Eventually Peter shook his head, muttering something under his breath before going back on his phone. Y/N stared at her own hands, dragging her finger over a little spot of blood that had begun to peek through it. She tried to shift herself a bit and a pain shot through her ankle. She grimaced, hissing lightly at the sting. She pulled her blanket aside and looked down, her stomach twisting when she saw a purple bruise surrounding her right ankle. Almost like a hand.

"Geez. What, did you drag me out by my ankles?" she said to Peter.

"What?" he replied, not looking up, "no, I grabbed your hand."

"Then what the hell is that?"

She pointed, and Peter's eyes followed where she was indicating. "Maybe you kicked something," he offered, "you were trying to swim back up to the surface."

Y/N frowned, something nagging in the back of her mind. "No I wasn't."

"Yes, you did. I saw you."

"No, I was dragged."

Peter shook his head, as if trying to make the words coming out of her mouth form a logical sentence. "What?"

The memory came flooding back to Y/N. The moment just before she started punching at the ice. The face. "I saw her."

"Saw who?"

"Annie."

Peter stilled, his jaw loosening ever so slightly. He looked at Y/N, and for a moment he wondered if the hypothermia had gotten to her brain. "What?"

"Annie K. I saw her under the ice, so I tried to go down and get her."

"Y/N, Annie's-"

"She's fucking dead, I know," she snapped. "But I saw her, alright? I wouldn't start punching solid ice for nothing."

And now Peter was left in a conundrum. On the one hand, Y/N wouldn't lie about something like this. He trusted her that far at the very least. But what she was saying she saw...that went beyond reasonable explanation. He looked at her hands, remembering how they looked just after he pulled her out of the ice. Raw and bloody and bruised. He saw the way she was punching at that ice. It was desperate. No logical person would fuck up their hands like that for a lie. She was really reaching for something. For someone, if that's what she says.

There was still one issue: Danvers wouldn't hear it. They saw how far Trooper Navarro got when she tried to bring Annie's name into the equation. Zero tolerance. They couldn't expect any more grace from the chief.

"You don't have to believe me-"

"I do, Y/N. I do."

She was a little surprised at that. She'd expected Peter to tell her she was crazy. Nevertheless, she could take his belief and run with it. "Then help me," she said, her voice stern. "Follow this lead with me as far as it can go. We don't have to tell Danvers, and if it leads nowhere it leads nowhere. Just don't make me do it on my own."

Conundrum #2: Does he stay on the sidelines or jump through that ice with her?

Fuck it. It's gonna be cold either way.

"Fine."

Y/N's lips turned up into a small smile. Before she could respond, though, one of their co-workers, Lissy, popped her head in the door. "Hey, Prior. You're relieved of L/N duty."

Y/N sat up in bed, giving Peter a look. "L/N duty?"

He gave a sheepish shrug. "Would it help if I said I volunteered?"

"Get out of here. Smartass."

Danvers came eventually to swear at her and ask what the hell she'd been thinking. She gave Danvers the real, honest answer, which was that she wasn't. She'd probably take that better than a lie.

But eventually, of course, she had to.

"And what the hell made you start punchin' that ice?"

Y/N paused. "I thought I saw something, but it was—it wasn't—"

"Well, what?" Danvers snapped. "What was it? Wasn't it?"

"It was nothing, okay? It was a false lead."

That was hard to say, even if it wasn't true.

The highlight of the whole situation was that, at the very least, Y/N's circadian rhythm had gone back to somewhat normal. She looked over files until around eleven o'clock at night when she couldn't keep her eyes open for more than ten seconds at a time. Trying to sleep was a battle for a moment, what with the sore everything and the hands that could barely grasp at the blankets to pull them up to her chin. But eventually exhaustion won out, and she fell asleep to the gentle hum of the hospital's heating system.

And though she never really had in her life, she dreamed.

She dreamed that she was back under the ice, the rocks beneath her feet, crystal clear water swallowing her hole. And there was Annie, beckoning her further and further out. She swam for her until her muscles burned. The further out Annie took her, the darker the water got, and the colder and colder she felt. It got so dark and so cold that she couldn't see Annie at all. It was only when she squinted that she could see her hands in front of her face, and she watched in horror as frost crept over her skin and nipped at her blood.

When Y/N jolted awake, it took her embarrassingly long to realize she was standing on the roof of the hospital. Her bare feet were buried in the snow, the tips of her toes hanging over the edge, five stories above Ennis. A yelp tore out of her mouth before she could stop it, her balance wavering for a single, terrifying moment.

She stepped down from the ledge as soon as she got her bearings, the wind blowing right through her hospital gown and stinging her skin. She stumbled back into the hospital, arms wrapped around herself as she tried to recover from the intense cold, all the while wondering how the hell she got up there.

There was seemingly only one answer: she brought me there.

Peter's kitchen table was littered with crime scene photos. Darwin toddled on the floor, playing with his stuffed elephant, while Peter brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Y/N was so focused that she didn’t notice as Darwin stood and reached his little hand up, grasping for the photos. His fingertips found purchase and he started to pull a particularly bloody photo off the table. Y/N snatched it out of his grasp just before he could be scarred for life and Darwin let out a little giggle.

“Close call, little man,” she said, “that would’ve taken a lot of therapy to unsee.”

Darwin stuck his tongue out at her. She stuck hers out back.

“Kayla should be on her way to come get him. She's trying to beat the storm,” Peter said, scooping Darwin up and carrying him safely away from the photos. They sat down between the couch and the fireplace, and Y/N, suddenly craving a break from the blood and gore, got up to go meet them.

"You guys doing okay?" she asked as she sat cross-legged beside Darwin. "You and Kayla?"

She could tell immediately that she hit a nerve. Peter's eyes darted away from Darwin instantly, his gaze instead setting on the fire. He didn't answer for a moment, and for a moment Y/N thought maybe he was acting like he didn't hear her. "We, uh...we separated."

Y/N frowned. "What?"

"Two months ago. Maybe two and a half."

He picked up the fire poker and stoked the flames—not because they needed to be, but because if he didn't have something to do with his hands he'd go crazy.

Y/N didn't quite know what to say. She remembered when her parents separated, but she was too little to do much about it. Too young to think about comforting them.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Peter just shook his head and shrugged like it was no big deal. "It was coming eventually. We just finally owned up to it."

"Still. It sucks."

"Yeah."

They sat in silence for a moment. Darwin handed the elephant over to Y/N to make way for his sudden interest in picking out the fuzzies in the carpet.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm becoming increasingly concerned that my ice plunge gave me walking pneumonia."

That didn't make it better, but it did get him to laugh.

They played with Darwin and generally avoided the topic of work until there was a knock at the door. A hush seemed to fall over them, reality setting back in. Peter got up, taking Darwin with him, and Y/N went back to the kitchen table. She made herself busy (or, at the very least, she made herself look busy) with files.

Peter opened the door with Darwin in one arm, Darwin's weekend backpack in the other. Kayla stood there on the other side. She grinned and cooed as she took Darwin, but the grin faded when it became clear that she had to interact with Peter.

Look at the files, Y/N. What's happening at the door is none of your business.

Ugh, but eavesdropping would be so fun.

"What's she doing here?" she heard Kayla say. Both she and Peter looked over to where Y/N was sitting.

Well, at least I don't have to eavesdrop.

Y/N looked up, raising an awkward hand in greeting. "Hi Kayla."

"Hi Y/N," Kayla replied. She wasn't cold, but it was clear that Y/N wasn't her favorite person in the world.

Peter said something about work, but Y/N couldn't decipher it. She went back to work, trying to block out the distant sounds of what seemed to be a heated conversation. Eventually the door closed (not slammed, luckily) and Y/N looked up. Peter stared at the wooden door for a few seconds after it had closed, like he thought it might open again. Y/N rushed to look away as he finally turned and headed in her direction. She tried not to shift as he took a seat on the side of the table closest to her, taking his own stack of files and beginning to sort through them.

After a moment, she spoke. "Aaaaare we gonna talk about that?"

"No we are not."

"Got it, got it."

They studied crime scenes. They looked at the facts. They asked a lot of wrong questions and maybe a few right ones. They got so deep into the case of the Tsalal men that they didn't realize when the clock struck three in the morning just as Peter was about to brew a new pot of coffee.

"Huh," was all Y/N could manage to say when she saw the time.

"Huh," Peter agreed.

She looked outside, which at this time of night was a greyish blur of falling snow moving at too many miles per hour. This was the type of storm Y/N's mother told her to watch out for. People who drove out in these either ended up wrecked or freezing to death before they made it home. "Mind if I stay the night?"

Peter nodded. "'Course."

Ten minutes later, Y/N was curled on the couch with a down comforter draped over her to block out the chill (with the help of three layers of clothes and another blanket on top). The lights were out and all she could hear was the sound of whistling wind as she drifted off to sleep.

And for the second time in years, she dreamed.

She was back under that water, cold seeping into her bones. She saw the surface just a few feet above her head, close enough to touch. She reached up, but before her frozen fingers could make contact with the frozen sheet of ice she could use to pull herself up, a hand seized her ankle and dragged her down. She screamed, but only bubbles escaped her mouth, the sound absorbed by the freezing waters that enveloped her. She rushed to suck in a breath and the water flooded in to meet her screaming lungs.

She was dying.

She looked down at the one who was dragging her, and saw someone she knew to be dead.

"Y/N..."

"Annie?" Y/N said. More bubbles. Annie just looked at her, and somehow she knew: Death was coming.

"Y/N!"

Peter's hand landed roughly on her shoulder, enough to shake her out of the dream and make her realize that she was standing outside in the swirling snow, which was getting worse by the second. She turned, and their faces were so close that their matching frozen, red noses were inches away from touching. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Y/N made no reply, trekking back towards the house as quickly as her bare feet could take her. Annie’s eyes were still flashing across her mind every few seconds, as if trying to come back to the surface and consume her again. She wouldn’t let that happen.

As soon as the door shut behind her, the wind howling and doing its best to pry it back open again, she collapsed against it, trying to stave off cold and paranoid visions. She vaguely heard Peter mutter No, come here, as he pulled her up from the floor and guided her to the fireplace, which he promptly lit. He draped a blanket around her, then two, then three. She must’ve looked like a floating head with all the fabric covering her from the shoulders down as she curled on the floor, knees drawn up to her chest. He sat down beside her after he was satisfied she had enough to warm her up. She was shivering slightly, but the horrified look in her eyes made him wonder if that was totally from the cold. He didn’t ask. He sat, staring straight at the fire with her. That was all he could do.

“It was Annie,” Y/N said finally, her voice hoarse. “She took me out there.”

Peter didn’t respond—he was sure the explanation she would give, if she gave any, would go entirely over his head.

Y/N swallowed hard before continuing. “She’s involved in all this. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why. But something about Annie is still alive. Because what happened to her? That’s what happens when men get angry. But when women get angry? You end up out in the snow in the middle of the night with no idea how you got there.”

Silence.

“She’s angry. We just have to figure out why.”

Peter looked at her, color starting to bloom in her previously purple lips. She stared intently ahead as she talked, almost as if she were in a trance. When Peter reached out and took a lock of her hair gently between his fingers, she didn’t flinch. She glanced over at him, her eyes illuminated by the fire he’d set.

“Your hair froze,” was his only explanation.

Y/N looked down and saw that he was right. Little ice crystals had formed in patches of her hair. She wondered how long she’d been out there in the cold.

She wasn’t sure who leaned in first, or when the images of Annie disappeared from her mind, but in an instant Peter’s lips were on hers, and all visions of Annie floated away, replaced only by the feeling of his lips and hands.

It was only a moment before he pulled away, his eyes shut in a way that suggested he fucked up. For the second time in a week she’d nearly found herself in a life-threatening situation, and here he was playing with her hair and kissing her like a besotted middle schooler. She would be mad—she had to be.

“Sorry,” he said quietly.

“Don’t be,” Y/N said, pulling him back to her and kissing him again.

That was all the okay Peter needed. He pulled her to him again, this time a bit rougher, but still careful not to accidentally push any blankets off her. It was Y/N who eventually shed them, pulling him onto the couch with her. It was still too cold inside for either of them to remove any more layers they already had on (which they both found extremely unfortunate), but that didn’t stop Y/N from crawling atop him and straddling his waist to better kiss him.

After what felt like hours (but was probably only twenty minutes), they wound up that way, with Y/N laying her head on Peter’s chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her to hold him to her. Her heart rate was just starting to slow down when Peter spoke.

“You know I’ll help you see this through, right?” 

Y/N looked up at him. “Yeah.”

He ran a soft hand through her hair and she laid back down.

“This is a bad idea, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, probably.”

But, funnily enough, neither of them cared.

[sherbet-shark]

|〘 ⋇Genre: Drama〙|〘 ⋇W/C:5.2K〙|〘 ⋇ Format: Fic 〙|〘 ⋇Content: 〙 | Yona doubts the authenticity of Sidon’s love after a run-in with a few Hylians suggesting otherwise.|

|〘 ⋇ Content Warnings: 〙This fic is riddled with personal HCS about Yona’s vague home and herself and her relationship with her attendants. This fic has light spoilers from both, BOTW and TOTK Zora Quest line, and general totk. |

|〘 ⋇ 〙 Summary: Yona’s devotion and love for her new home and husband knew no bounds; the pair had been childhood friends but are now being thrust into an arranged marriage. Was it all too fast? The young queen dwells on her doubts, amplified by cruel words.|

|〘 ⋇ 〙 A/N: Hey guys, I’m sorry for dropping out of the plane of existence, I got really busy, stressed and burnt out from writing, school and irl. This is my first Canon x Canon fic ever and I am so freaking proud of it. I cannot wrap my head around this fic being 5.2k words at all, like 😳 jfc. Also!! YONA lovers unite!! She’s very cute and sweet I hope I did our girl justice. Pspsp @enigmaticfossil FOOD. This should go without saying but if you don’t like this couple scroll past. |

"The Zora Domain was once again saved from tragedy by your heroic Swordsman and our beloved King Sidon… I wonder what you might have said seeing your brother and him fighting side by side. While most unproductive, I cannot help that my mind often strays to what could've been, Lady Mipha."

Yona's words swell with bittersweet wonder as she wistfully sighs and peers at the Champion's memorial. Yona's speckled amber eyes searched the tranquil statue's face. What for? She didn't even honestly know herself. Perhaps a sense of relief, or Yona wanted a sign that their demure Champion was watching her brother thrive. What would Yona's childhood hero have said to their union? So many questions that would stay unanswered, the foreign Zora concluded. Her mind wandered to her dear husband, the stars to her night sky.

Despite his unending enthusiasm and carefree air, the Queen knew her husband well to know there was so much more lurking underneath his energetic and hopeful personality. From the outside, it seemed even fear allured him. If only they knew it was the very opposite. Sidon was and still is profoundly affected by his sister's tragic passing, more to say, the fear it caused. Who would blame him for his fear? One hundred years were a blink of an eye for the Zora. Yet time did not heal all. The emptiness in everyone's hearts still aches, just not as much anymore. Everyone can say her name and recount their memory of Mipha with a smile, but her presence would still be longed for.

Finally, Sidon resumed his monthly visits to Mipha's Court, something he hadn't done in a while, even prior to his fight with Ganon. It may be silly for some to speak with a figurine. But this simple action always made Zora fondly smile, recalling days when Mipha would always listen with kind words and a warm aura as she always did before her death.

At the Champion's memorial, Yona recalls an instant from their shared childhood when heavy rains poured down a river they played next to. The torrential downpour rose above the bank, capturing the tiny crimson-screaming prince down the waterway. The foreign Zora was the first to swim after him, willing her smaller verdant fins to move her faster. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she reached her fellow royal. The current lashed the young children, but undeterred, Yona carried him into a small cape. A moment of peace after a hurricane of freight, the water continued to thunder behind them. The tiny child tried to calm the quivering Sidon in her arms while attempting to mend a wounded foot of her own. Then, as all hope seemed lost, frenzied cries welcomed the duo as a frazzled Mipha and royal guards caught up quickly. Mipha soothed their cries, touching their cheeks and promptly healing any injuries.

"My Queen, it's well past the early evening hours. We wouldn't want the subjects, least of all His Majesty, to worry about your disappearance." Webbed footsteps lightly tread behind the Queen as Khira stirs the royal to the present, her voice woven in respectful concern for Yona. Her attendants always stayed close to each other and their Lady out of duty and fondness for each other's company.

Even if Chroma's youthful airheadedness got on the latter's nerves, it was still a comfort brought to the Domain.

Their homeland was nearly unattainable to those who couldn't breathe and tread water as swiftly as the aquatic race. In contrast, Zora's Domain flourished to the elements. While New Bay seldom had hazardous weather. Their home had air pocket caverns filled with seashell shops nestled deep into the sea's safe tides and swaying colors, hidden from the land and its residence—a true secret treasure amongst the merpeople.

"Yes, yes. Of course, I wouldn't wish for Sidon to worry. My apologies to you both. It is late, Chroma, Khira. You did not have to accompany me to the Court. No monsters have dared step foot after that Sludge Like." Yona turns, smiling at her loyal, protective attendants. Her golden headpiece jewelry gingerly clinks as she steps down the stairs; verdant hands glide down the polished handrails. The Caregiver knew full well her guards knew their way around the weapons and their water magic, but still, she felt bad for her friends staying with her so long. Yona was no stranger to marksmanship or training herself in purifying wounds and tainted water.

"Please don't worry about it, Lady Yona! We like looking after you; you're our friend, plus his Majesty asked- Ow!" The youngest Zora cheerfully bubbles, and the older guard swiftly jabs her. The new Queen tilts her head, sighing to herself. Even now, Sidon's still quite protective, isn't he? But still, a loving gesture all the same that makes her heart flutter and cheeks warm.

"Hush you! Do you not know when to flap your lips and when not to? On that note as well, how many times must I lecture you? It is Queen Yona, no longer 'Lady.' Have you no respect or idea of the importance of these titles? My goodness, do my words fall on deaf ears?" Exasperated, Khira shakes her head while glaring at her fellow attendant. The trio starts their short journey home as Yona's muffled laughter spills from her lips, watching her dear friend's antics. The young women stare down the waterfall leading down Lulu Lake.

"Please, be nice. Any more of your reprimands, and I'll go deaf." Squeaks the distraught retainer, dark gray eyes pleading to their Queen for help as they descend through the waters.

Even from an immense height, the radiant city's glow softens the carved-out cliffs, and the bright ore deposits dot the wet landscape, becoming a beacon of beauty and splendor. The sun's wonderous warmth far retreated past the Domain's reach, a touch of cold breezes caressing Yona's skin. Coming to the halfway mark, the Caregiver answers her friend's silent pleas. Standing before the marbled platform, the Zora Queen shifts her attention to her bickering friend.

"Khira, come now, I believe that's enough, we wouldn't wish any harm, and it is only the three of us. You can indeed allow one moment of reprieve. I need not worry about titles, my precious friends." Yona coaxes her friend's long-winded lectures, seeing the elder Zora sigh in defeat and allowing this rare moment of informality, much like the old times. Marching down, Khira and Chroma flank their Queen's side, scanning every direction for any monster or Yiga sneak attack. The clansmen weren't interested in the Zora royal line, but being cautious with the newly crowned royalty never hurt.

Their serenity shatters as a high-pitched undignified whine carries through, cutting into the air as they swim down the final waterfall. The young guards perk up and quickly unsheath their weapons, pushing their Queen further near the falls, providing a swift escape. "Your Majesty, Chroma, stay here. I'll go investigate." A hushed command tumbles from the dark dolphin Zora's lips, eyes narrowing and head tucked down for intimidation.

The royal guard crawls out of the pool, spotting a cluster of thick foliage suitable for an ambush. Rushing to the forest green bushes, Khira ducks down to spy on the ruckus while Chroma guards Yona with her spear, guiding her safely away from the unseen danger. The new ruler braces herself, summoning water to snake around her sharp claws.

"I can't believe Sidon's married already! Come on. He's hitched to some random Zora girl we've never heard of? It doesn't sound like a union from love, y'know? And that, too, he doesn't talk much about her. I don't know; it sounds so fishy. That wasn't supposed to be a pun, by the way." A brown-haired Hylian woman clad in some strange mushroom hat walks into sight, and it seems she isn't alone. The woman's other companions stroll by, a pair of other Hylians complain, and another person in glasses fiddles with their leather satchel.

This group seems relatively young while they remain unabashed, glad to blabber, Khira thinks. Anger wells up in her as the group's voices had no intention of stopping with their ill-meaning talk. She knows that Yona could hear this noise. How could she not? Even a Bokoblin would understand their mad rambles.

"Well, I mean, Khole, we don't know much about Zora's politics, so I don't know if it may be an arranged loveless wedding," The glasses wearing sheepishly, state as they twiddle with short brown hair looking back at their friends. It seems this group was returning from visiting the East Reservoir.

"Amia, you're talking as if we know about our own. After all, our Princess had up and disappeared. Only Hylia knows where she is. Of course, she's nice, but if she were our Princess, she would try to reinstate the crown rather than twiddle around in Hateno. We've been in shambles for a hundred years, and only now are we starting to come back. If my great-grandparents could see how this panned out, they'd give Zelda a big lesson about responsibility. I know they lived on the outskirts of Castle Town. They saw she didn't put her all into protecting us from the Calamity." Another crude voice cuts into the cloud of gossip, and the tallest of the group groans. This one must be Khloe, according to them.

"Khloe, that's not nice. She does some things like building the school. I appreciate that, and even the fact she's somehow alive makes the older and more devout folks more invigorated." The shortest man answers the group, trying to reel in their chat, eyes darting around the wandering travelers.

"I like that she made the school too, but that's all our Princess does; twiddle around, now poof! She's gone along with her silent little knight throwing everyone in all corners of Hyrule for a loop," The mushroom-wearing Khole snorts, not taking the hint and wrapping her arm around the small man.

"Besides, there's only so much teaching can do if they don't know how to fight; you're dead. But I don't even know if this royal has done anything substantial to this, 'Zora Queen.' She appeared out of nowhere too, and I heard the women who had their little fan club are still reeling." Yona has had enough of this slander, slashing into the dancing streams around her hands, instantly dropping into the tide. The young Queen knew their last statement wasn’t true in the slightest, reminiscing the many moments the club members loudly fawned over her and the coupling.

The Zora, as she evades Chroma's eased guard, at brazen conversation in their Domain where these Hylians should be more mindful. These ignorant speculations about their Princess; they didn't see how Zelda collapsed to her knees, too choked on her grief to properly beg forgiveness from former King Dorephan and the royal line. When she emerged from the ruins of Hyrule Castle alongside Link, they didn't see the solemn strength and wisdom that welled behind those teary eyes, renewing her vow of protecting everyone no matter the cost.

But what pained her more was that, deep down, their prodding at the royal coupling hit a sore spot in her heart. The optimistic prince and herself had no say in their engagement. Of course, they had visited each other's kingdoms as young teens. Her heart never wavered in her affections for him and his people, but she often wondered what he felt when King Dorephan told him. The royals scarcely had time to talk and be with each other in private, away from others, along with helping the ill-stricken Zora from the sludge, repairing the Domain and Sidon becoming the Water Sage, and finally helping Link defeat Ganon.

Years after the Calamity and its sting aftermath, they grew dearly fond of each other. He changed, his glowing with unending enthusiasm and the occasional naivete all genuine. But he seemed to hide his deeper emotions from the public, even with his dear father. Either for fear that it would make him seem inexperienced or because he wished to truly earn the crown, Sidon's grown used to hiding his whole heart even now. Yona hoped she'd prove herself to him and eventually be blessed to reach those parts of his soul, knowing he was safe with her.

They've had many conversations about their situation and the future after Link helped Sidon slay the beast that floats in the sky. But old habits formed from grief and feeling inadequate die hard. The King still hides from the outside, so much so that he loathes to admit it. After the kingdom's announcement, she doubted if he truly loved her the same way as she did him as the century passed and their visits grew prevalent. Throughout their youth, they eventually graced each other with the title of a beloved friend.

Did his heart worry for her out of genuine care or for appearances or necessity? Did he yearn to have her beside him as his bride, Queen, and equal because he loved her? Would there be a day that Sidon would smile and proudly show his love to the world like Mei and Fronk?

Yona understood betrothal gifts were essential to the Hyrulean Zora culture, but she wasn't taught that way. Only learning how to mend the armor from other fish scales, her people learned a sacred courtship dance to show their interest. Yona summons her rapid heartbeat to the clearing out of the pooling water, allowing them to see her. Chroma whispers for Yona to stay but emerges from the pool trailing her Lady.

"Enough of your useless babble," The zealous guard seethes, lunging at the group from the overgrown shrubs. Jumping out of their skin, the rowdy quartet leap into each other's arms. They shudder like leaves, eyes firmly screwing closed, far too absorbed in their well-being.

The Zora spear inches away from the supposed root of all this meaningless noise, "You have shown an inexplicable disrespect and regard for both your Princess and our Queen. Your prattle proves nothing among you and your ilk. Your eyes will never see the true nature of these critical figures, and perhaps that is not your desire," Khira grits her sharpened teeth, even the air around them stilled in anticipation.

The grip on her spear tightens with every passing breath as the group hesitantly opens their eyes. The spear aimed at the frightened woman pulls back, and the guard's posture loosens, showing a reluctant sign of mercy and growling while pulling her weapon back. "But I will allow you this grace as well as one warning. You will not sully any of the royal's names here—especially Queen Yona. One would think that Princess Zelda's diplomatic nature would pass for all her subjects. Consider yourselves lucky. I want to avoid pushing more work on their Majesties, so relieving the burden of taking your tongues is out of the realm of possibility."

"Khira! Enough! Stand down." Yona calls out to her fearless attendant; in her mind, she notes how uncharacteristically aggressive the Zora woman is and how strange it is to see her threaten visitors. The Hylians take shaky steps back, looking at the emerging figure. Startled gasps erupt as the attendant glances over her shoulder. Faltering in her angered resolve, seeing the smaller Zora's displeased face. Lifting the sharp spear away, the Caregiver walks in front so the visitors can see her, bowing her head to the cluster of people as they stay silent. The royal could feel their pensive eyes staring into her as if trying to figure her out by tearing her apart.

"I sincerely apologize for my attendant; this is the first time I've seen her act out in such an unsightly manner. This will not go unreprimanded, while this flagrant threat does not deserve quick forgiveness. Please do not think lowly of us. I seem to have pushed my guard to the brink of exhaustion, so much so that one believes violence would be the answer if I can do anything to appease you. You need only ask, and I will do it. But know that I am Queen Yona." The Queen steadies her breath as she lifts her head, jewelry gently clinking. Scanning their faces, Yona watches the group hastily cover their jabber. However, their words have done their damage making Yona feel miserable but still overwhelmingly riddled with uncertainty.

"O-oh, no, no, no, we're sorry. Uh, you don't need to do that. It was immature of us to talk like that. Sorry, you heard that, but you seem nice, but we're just going to go."

The group leader nervously chirps up as she eyes the serious Khira. Another ally of Khloe's speaks up, nodding and clinging to each other's arms. "Thanks for not hurting us. Bye." Making their escape, crossing the connecting bride to the city. Yona's forlorn eyes linger on their retreating forms.

"What was that? That wasn't an apology at all! And Khira, what in the world got into you." Chroma scoffs as she perches her weapon on her back, eyes frantically scanning her two friend's faces trying to understand them. The younger guard pouts to herself and quietly mutters, "And you always get after me for not bringing shame to the Zora name..."

Despite the rowdy crowd's departure, the young women felt the air thick with tension. Meekness gnaws at Khira as she ducks her head down, too ashamed of her reckless actions and making Yona speak for her. She would indeed badger the younger guard, but to think she would act so brutishly was beyond hypocritical.

"I am profoundly ashamed that you had to see that, your Majesty. But saying I feel guilty for silencing their larks would be a lie. I will not tolerate such belligerence towards you and things they don’t wish to comprehend." The Zora grits her teeth, spitting out a response, rising to look at her liege's back. The young woman partially turns, sapphire flecks eyes glance at her taller lady-in-waiting, Yona dutifully declares.

"Allowing emotions to cloud and open the way to conflict isn't like you, and I understand your reasoning. I find myself appreciating the wild gesture, but I will not tolerate any of your outbursts. Lest you want to stay in my service, being the head of state, is to preserve the peace to all that come and go from Zora's Domain, even to those without respect. We must rise above and show kindness," Light Green's side fins sway as she shakes her head. Yona's hand waved for Chroma and Khira to follow suit. She swallows the biting taste in her mouth, cupping her hands before her chest. She absentmindedly picked at her claws; the sound of clicks enveloped the girls as they fell in line, resuming their protective flank. Exchanging worried looks between each other.

"This should go without saying, but please don't tell Sidon. He's been busy, returning from his valiant battle alongside the other sages protecting the land and handling a kingdom. Something so small should not plague his mind. I'm certain I will forget this soon enough." Yona sharply inhales as she tries to lift her spirits, but her words drip despondence. Her heart twists in painful knots, knowing she's going back on her promise of being truthful and open to her love.

"We won't breathe a word." The duo candidly answer as they make their way across the pristine bridge. While a robust familiar figure happily waves in the distance, welcoming them blissfully unaware of what occurred.

The sinking feeling did, indeed, not disappear from Yona's mind. Their words echo in her head, and the festering sense of inadequacy and insecurity lurks in the corners of her mind. It had been a few days since her encounter, and she knew allowing such heated words to get to her was folly. Yona couldn't help her mind slipping into the depths of her doubt. Even to the point, her melancholic air alarmed the elderly councilmen and Exalted Dorephan. The new Queen lacked her signature sweet nature, replacing her charming aura with an absent mind.

While busy creating safe pathways and removing the debris strewn along the narrowing passage from the mainland to their Domain. Sidon grew worried for his Yona. It's been hard not to notice his citizens concerning whispers about her well-being circled the Domain, and his dearest barely stayed by his side after she visited Mipha Court. She seemed off-put and fidgety whenever he was near her. Even the little ones seemed fretful with Yona's unusual behavior, and her attendants acted peculiar, seemingly hiding something.

The warm afternoon sun beams down on Zora's Domain, an occasional breeze passing through his magnificent home. It's almost ironic that the weather contrasts the new King's worrisome thoughts.

"Naydra's eyes, What am I missing?" Sidon mutters, standing before the pristine balcony overseeing the Domain. His sharp eyes longingly linger on Zora's soft green form, watching her speaking with the fisherman, Mei. He was beyond glad the forgetful citizen returned from the Floating Fish Island. Admittedly busy, ensuring his best soldiers to Lookout Landing returned, Sidon remains steadfast in giving his people protection and grace as those before him. He was dutiful in looking after his people's well-being.

So many things happened in a whirlwind of events; first, it was the Upheaval, then the vile sludge desecrating his home, and finally, his unexpected coronation and marriage to his beloved, then assisting Link in his fight against Ganon. The royal Zora ponders if it was as overwhelming to her as it was for him. The young King certainly has no regrets, but the stress of it all tends to invade his mind even when the epic battle has ended.

Rambunctious giggles erupt from below, stirring him from his daze. His sharp eyes flicker between Mei waving to the young King and his darling Queen, now turned up to see him. A magnetic force pulled their eyes to meet, and he could feel his heart stop, breath hitch in his throat when a ghost of a bashful smile graced Yona's lips. Her golden adornments shine, accentuating her beautiful features. His cheeks flushed against his cold skin, and a heart-stopping smile painted his face. It could be only them in the world.

The moment broke too soon for his liking as Yona shyly averted her gaze. It looked like the floor was more enticing to her now; soft laughter rolled from him, uncaring of the whispered swoons and muttering about young love. Unable to tear his gaze away from Yona as the giggling fisherman bows and parts from the royal Zora. Nodding to something Mei told her, the young woman walks the stairs. Sidon's eyes follow her each step, and soon she stands by his side, making the void of her absence the past few weeks far more prominent than before.

"May we speak in private?" Yona's soft, tantalizing voice asks, her eyes peering up at him with sorrow and meekness clouding her usually cheerful aura. Sidon observes her expression, questioning what caused her heart such sadness.

Nodding to her request, he pauses, thinking of places for a private conversation. He knew the open grandeur of the Domain wasn't much for a solitary chat, so they had to travel somewhere close in case a danger arose but far enough so no curious ear listened. Coming to a solution, the crimson Zora answers, nodding to his Yona. "Of course, I'll have the guards notify my father if they need us."

The couple stroll beside each other to young Zora guarding the stairs to the Throne room. "If anything arises from my absence, find Queen Yona and I atop the Veiled Falls. Please tell the Exalt, thank you." Sidon instructs, giving them a polite smile and watching the faithful sentries obediently comply. In the corner of his peripheral vision, he hears the young woman's gasp. Yona’s eyes widen slightly at his chosen place.

"Now, shall we depart, Yona?" Sidon looks to his side. She doesn't meet his gaze but nods all the same. 'Still absorbed in her thoughts. I wish to know what's plaguing you so, my love.' The perplexed Zora thinks to himself, making their short journey to the Falls.

The two sit on the edge of the Veiled Falls. Sidon surveys the landscape before them, the glistening architecture proudly towering as his head turns. An overwhelming sense of pride and wonder swirls in him, overlooking his gorgeous home. The loud water tirelessly tumbles down the Falls, creating white noise and protecting them from potential eyes and ears, allowing them to speak as they please. The extroverted man feels the atmosphere melt away into a reflective air. His sweet empathic nature shines through, but so does a familiar nervousness, worrying he may say something unintentionally unkind. It's truly a marvel how Yona's mere presence reduced him to his shyer, composed side like they were still children.

"I know that I have been busy and thus haven't been with you by becoming crowned king, but it doesn't allow me to negate my husbandry duties… Now love, what plagues you so?" He tenderly questions his wife, seeing her steady her breath, and comes to terms with whatever tortured her.

"My King," Yona starts to wonder aloud, trying to gather the scramble of words in her mind. Her hands are cupping each other in her lap tense, and her shoulders tighten. While Sidon's brow furrows, she never addressed him formally like that before, not even when they were little ones. "I find myself wondering, has our union been too hasty? Am I truly the one you want besides you? Surely someone far more courageous would be a better match." Concern coupled with mere shock overtook him. His eyes widened, looking at her words. He desperately wants to cut her off and ask her, but he holds his tongue, wanting her to feel safe with him. 'Where in the world did this come from?'

"Those days ago, my attendants and I came across a group of people that brought up the validity of our union. I know it's foolish to listen, and in hindsight, it’s minuscule compared to the intrepid battle you returned from only months ago, but I want to be truthful about it." The woman explains. Yona stops turning to look at him. Vulnerability is etched on her face as he patiently waits for her sign to speak.

"If this has made you worry for this long, it’s no small deal. So that's what you've been dwelling on. Do you doubt my feelings?" He politely utters out, the sick tightening in his chest as he waits in anticipation of her answer. Yona says nothing, in silent agreement. She scolds herself for hurting him so much as he rises from his spot, holding his crimson hand for her. The young woman reaches for him as they stand together.

"You recall the importance of this place, yes? This was the last time I saw my sister alive. Days after, we came to mourn after being informed about my sister being trapped in Ruta. I ran to this place to drown in my tears, where no one could hear me. My desperate attempts to swim upstream, this mighty Fall, fell flat. Then miraculously, you came. You found me in the pool,"

"Crying together in each other's arms, I remember. I asked where you were, and I found you here trying to hide." Sidon's large hands engulf Yona's as she jumps in. The young woman knowing this story well, caressing her thumbs around his palms.

"Yes. At that moment, I saw someone I could call a friend. I discovered someone who could see all of me without fearing judgment. Someone that looked at the depths of my sadness and allowed me to grieve unashamed. Someone that I could share my accomplishments with. We were arranged to marry, but I was elated when my father informed me. I could not imagine anyone else by my side. You've continued to be a beloved companion. I fell in love with your compassionate, intelligent, selfless nature. Your ability to know what's troubled me among countless others made me want to return the favor tenfold," Sidon tenderly divulged, finally noticing Yona meet his eye.

The pure warm adoration in his remarks left the doubtful royal speechless. Strings of wispy white clouds pass overhead, shading the two. "I want to continue growing alongside you as the years pass. I want you to know that I will always love you. You, Yona, Are the only one I want to have on my side. I love you with all my heart." Sidon slips his hand away and brushes underneath her side fins, cupping her cheek and stroking her face as if trying to dispel all her worries from her mind. The smaller Zora nuzzles into his calloused hard-working hand, feeling at peace now unyielding to keep her gaze away from his steady eyes.

"I-I should not have allowed a stranger's words to cause such dismay. I'm sorry for doubting your devotion," She pauses, golden eyes fluttering closed, smooshing her cheek into his hand, angry at herself for significantly impacting how she acted towards him and those in the Domain.

"Will you forgive me?" Shame and relief wash over her, watching Sidon nod at her inquiry. His arm snakes around her waist while tugging her close to his chest. She hears the rapid pounding of his heart, feeling tears threaten to spill from her eyes. Willing them away momentarily, she peels from his broad chest, tugging at the gleaming silver prince his chest piece down.

Standing on her tippy toes, Yona wraps her arms around him, leaning into him while Sidon's finned arms securely encase her body in his. They share a sweet moment, their eyes slowly shut, and their lips collide in a kiss. Sparks fly across the two as Sidon deepens the kiss leaning toward her soft lips, wishing to melt into her touch. Quicken groans and gasps escape their lips, and hot puffs of air roll onto their mouths as they kiss again. It felt like gravity pulled them together again, as if it was torture to stay apart for even the air.

Savoring the taste of salt on their tongues, their lungs burn, taunting them to breathe momentarily. Begrudgingly, Yona pulled away. First, labored rasps heave from her petite frame, now noticing that Sidon lifted her from the ground pressing her close to his chest and sitting in his arms. The loud drumming of their hearts pounds in their ears as they silently look at each other. The noisy waterfall downs out their unsteady breaths as they slowly feel a smile perk on their warm faces.

"That wasn't an answer, my love." Mischievously scolding her loyal husband, Yona laughs to herself as he feigns cluelessness. She doesn't want to let go, reveling in his arms and in the love he gave her. "It wasn't? Well, I might need more time to convince you then." Sidon releases a husky chuckle, his voice a tinge of playfulness and desire, his eyes crinkling as his charming smile shines down at Yona, bringing her close again to steal another kiss.

Tagging: @hey-its-cweepy, @millybesippin, @twistthenoches @luvielle @millybesippin @rrasado @cxlemon

Sherbet Shark© all rights reserved. do not copy, modify or repost any of my works - please and thank you

[baejax-the-great]

[First, I was rereading "Agua Caliente" and I remembered a song that played a lot in my childhood (and I had kind of forgotten) bc the lyrics somehow matched the Patrochilles dynamic in this fic. This is kind of funny bc I would never in my life associate sertanejo (it's a type of country music, I think? Idk I've never heard country, but the aesthetic is kind of similar. Anyway, it's pretty popular here) with shipping an ancient Greek couple in modern AU, but ok. And I went to listen to this song again and now I'm listening to it on a loop, so thanks for that.]

Now the real question! It's perhaps a strange question, but do you plan what you write? Like, before you write, do you have the whole structured idea in mind? I could have sworn it was like that reading the fics, but then some notes on Ao3 and certain things you say on Tumblr started to make me reflect that maybe you don't plan as much as I thought… in that case, how do you manage to connect everything so well without looking like something was left out/without prior planning??? It's magic, technique, luck or actually do you plan?

Sorry if the question is a bit "???" but I'm REALLY thinking about this! I used to write fics years ago and I was in the "won't plan" group and as expected the fics came out obviously unplanned (but that was ok with me bc it was just to pass the time and I didn't expect it to be an engaging story or anything), and here's why this ask exists: it's precisely bc I was in the “won't plan” group that I'm really intrigued by the possibility of you NOT planning bc it just doesn't seem that way reading your fics...

The short answer is that I do plan what I write, but probably not enough.

I rarely start writing a fic with an entire idea. Often it's just a vibe. But I won't start posting a fic until I know exactly what the conflict is and how it will be resolved.

This was easy in ATG, for example, because I'd already written the resolution before I even decided to write the fic. Structuring it by Patroclus's age also helped, because I could make an outline with the stuff that needed to happen and then jam stuff I wanted to happen around it. That "Stuff" could be really specific--obviously Pat had to graduate school and Achilles had to go to the Olympics on specific years, and it was also like, this section should have them fighting. This section should have them getting along, but Achilles is hiding this big lie so there should be a weird tension.

In Sunset, it took me longer to figure out the conflict/resolution. Sure, I knew that Achilles was going to cry on a Chicago street corner and get naked in Pat's kitchen, but why was he there? How did he get there? I had already written Achilles settling in to Pat's place and the scene where he gets into the lake before I decided on Aphrodite being the key to explain this whole thing. Then I knew Pat had to die. But a lot of the stuff that happened in the middle was sort of on a whim (particularly Achilles getting on the wrong L train-that was definitely just an impulse I had while finishing that chapter). Tecmessa's chapter was also a later addition, and a deeply self-indulgent one, hah.

Agua was the least planned of these three, and in some ways it was because the idea was a lot simpler. After three years, Achilles runs into Patroclus again and they reconcile in some way. I knew exactly how Patroclus would feel about the whole thing (relieved, guilty, upset, wounded, hopeful, upset about feeling hopeful). My original plan was just to set up Achilles in his shop and his new life doing his best and have him run into Patroclus at the beach, and eventually they'd go to the desert. I wrote parts of their meeting first, and then I started writing the beginning and ended up scrapping most of that. I realized I was going to have to do a lot more writing for poor Achilles. My lack of planning here did cause some difficulties--I had like three versions of that date he went on with Pat with different endings. One involved Pat in the hospital, lmao. Zag and Meg coming to stay with Achilles were kind of whims, and I had meant to have Hypnos show up for "his turn" and have Achilles send him home because no, these were not team-building exercises, but then I forgot 😩.

The reason that I need to know the conflict/resolution at the start is because I do think all the scenes in a fic should relate to it in some way, either by building up the conflict or setting the groundwork for a resolution. Even for the impulsive scenes I add just for fun, I think about how they can do this. For example, Achilles getting lost on the L allowed me to build up Pat's unreasonable anxiety, show that Ajax was also feeling it to some extent, and end in Pat saying "fuck it" and just giving in to making out with his hot, ancient boyfriend. It was also something that happened to a friend who was visiting me from out of the country and didn't have a working cell phone. That moment of watching him through the window of the L as it slowly pulled away is just etched in my memory.

In Agua Caliente, almost anything could relate to the resolution, because the resolution was "Achilles having a life," thus it didn't require as much planning. Zagreus's apartment getting flooded (something that happened to me in grad school) showed Achilles attempting to be flexible with some success while allowing himself to become closer to Zagreus, which led to a point of connection with his kids. It also made it easier to explain why Achilles was doing Zag's delivery that day when he ran into Pat. There were only a couple things that truly needed to happen in AC for the fic to make sense, and that was a resolution with Achilles' kids and then with Patroclus, of course.

I do get loose threads sometimes, side conflicts or things that didn't end up going anywhere, and those things tend to annoy me until I figure out a way to resolve them or make them otherwise relevant. Or I don't. Or sometimes I realize I need to add something/someone into the fic, and it would have been smoother if I'd added it in an earlier chapter so it didn't seem like a convenient thing I'd just thought of to solve a problem. That's always annoying to me. But whatever. It's fanfic. That's the risk of posting while you write.

[sssm1l3]

Why does Rarl exist?

Before I start, I would like to say that I appreciate these two, and am in no way bashing the ship, I just spent 20 minutes talking about it and want to talk about it some more.

Spoilers for the walking dead ahead

So.

Okay.

As I'm thinking about it, I'm pretty sure that Ron and Carl only have 3 positive interactions.

1: When he introduces Carl to Enid and Mikey. (Where tf did Mikey go?)

2: When Ron and Carl talk at that party, Carl snatches cards from someone's hand.

3: When Rick and Carl are teaching Ron how to shoot.

Everything other than that is just pure chaos.

I do have a few theories.

One is what I like to call The My Hero Academia Paradox: If two characters exist in the same universe, there are people who want them together.

Let's face it, even if you don't ship them, they're aesthetically pleasing on some level.

The second, Carl is queer coded. I couldn't tell you how, but he is. It may have a similar effect to how autistic people (such as I) are more likely to be LGBTQ+ because they lack an understanding of social cues and norms.

Carl was very young when the world shit itself and his social norms completely changed. After Merle kicked the bucket, I don't think anybody ever mentions anything revolving around race or sexuality after that, because they have bigger fish to fry than worrying about those things, and thus, a lot of worries about those things that most young, queer, people have I don't think Carl would go through, at least not at the level that we do.

There are dead people, nobody really cares all that much about who you kiss.

Also, let's look at the social norms difference. At that point (and I'm only mentioning these two because if I didn't this post would be as long as War and Peace), but at that point, Carl had killed his mom and was almost barbecued a few episodes prior to meeting Ron.

And even before that, social norms are out the door, as well, so I don't know if this would be how it worked, but due to the state of the world being so fucked, I think maybe Carl would have a higher percentage chance of being queer. Hence, queercoded. (that and his use of flannels /hj)

My third theory is just projection: When people like characters, they project onto them.

In my fics, I put Carl through the 7 rings of hell, and then as soon as he crawls back up, I kick him in his head and throw him back down. I love him. He's my favorite character. I would drink his tears if I could.

And so, queer people writing or just making fan content about him, finally get another male character his age and like, fall on the ground giggling and kicking their feet, or just looked at the two of them and were like "Eh, if it fits it sits" and thus Rarl was born.

(Also an honorable mention for people just being whores for enemies to lovers)

But I seriously want to talk to the person that first decided this was a good idea. What Myspace or tumblr post started this?

I want to know.

I have no answers for why this ship exists, and I want some.

Thank you for your time