#i have been made aware that the twins are gender

[narizaki]

bad habits   suna rintaro x reader

―   tags   gender neutral reader,   fluff,   childhood friends to lovers

―   notes   wc is around 1.2k,   maybe ooc suna,   thank you for 100 followers, here's my gift to you <3

rintaro has many bad habits.

he’s well aware of them — so much so that he has a mental list of them. number 5 on the list is how he gets lazy during volleyball matches whenever he knows his team is in the lead. number 4 is how he never bothers to even attempt to mediate fights. though, he figures that one hardly counts as a bad habit, seeing as it’s the result of spending years around the miya twins. they would rather die than let anyone but kita or their mother get in between of their debacles. 

“tell me a secret, rin,” you hum into the phone.

you and rintaro have ingrained late-night phone calls into your routines after graduating high school and separating your own ways. with him working as a professional volleyball player, you hardly see each other anymore. he's always too busy with traveling and training, despite the fact you still live in the same city. although he knows you’d never tell him, he’s aware that you were upset when he began to have less and less time to talk to you. after all, he hadn’t spent the majority of his life with you to not know what makes you tick.

so, even though he’s stumbling over his own feet walking home, he’s still on the phone with you. he vaguely understands what you say before spouting out the first thing he thinks of — another bad habit of his.

number 3: he loses his filter when he’s tired. 

rintaro never had much of a filter to begin with, but his reserved nature essentially acted as one. he was certainly less blunt than people like kita and atsumu. as the years passed, though, it was made apparent to him that he became more curt with his words when in dire need of rest. he surmises that it’s something that happens to everybody, though, so he forgives himself for it.

“you know, i used to like you when we were kids,” he mumbles. “actually, it lasted until high school.”

you sputter on the other end, choking on your water. rintaro laughs at your incessant coughing.

“that was not funny! and, what? suna rintaro, are you drunk right now?” you yell into the receiver. the volume of your voice makes him wince, forcing him to tug his phone away from his ear. regardless, he laughs a little harder.

“full name? what happened to rin?” he almost whines, kicking a rock. you grumble on the other line. “and i’m not drunk.”

“rin,” you sigh, and he smiles at the nickname. “i know you like to fuck around with people, or whatever, but this isn’t something to joke about.” your tone is serious, almost scolding. rintaro only frowns. he’s not lying. he wouldn’t lie about something like this. he couldn’t, especially to you.

“i’m not joking, i swear. i did like you… or, still do?” he thinks aloud, questioning himself. rintaro is barely registering what he’s saying — mind fuzzy from the harsh day. his coach was particularly unforgiving today, leaving him sore and tired as he drags his feet back to his apartment. still, he continues. “yeah, still do, actually.”

“rin,” you say, exasperated, “you like me? as a friend, you mean?” 

even in his slightly delirious state, rintaro can tell you’re trying to save face — for you or for him, he’s unsure. what he does know is that you’d never thought he’d see you in a romantic light. it was his fault, really — you’d always been a hopeless romantic, but rintaro knew you’d considered him off-limits. aside from your long-term friendship, there was also his disinterested approach to dating. 

if only you knew how wrong you were.

he was never uninterested in dating — he just always had his eyes on you. that was where another bad habit of his shone through — number 2: he never tells anyone, anything. that, mixed with his hard-to-read demeanor, meant that nobody truly knew how he felt about you. of course, those around him could tell that you were close. everybody knew that you and rintaro had grown up together, so it was only a matter of time until people started assuming that the two of you had something more. while rintaro never gave those people the time of day, you’d always nervously deny their pries.

atsumu and osamu would always tease him (and sometimes, you) about it, but they quickly learned to give up once they saw his feigned indifference toward the subject and your immediate rejection to their statements. his default response was to brush them off — he’d rather die than give the twins out of all people anything to use against him, especially if it was about you. he’d never see the light of day again if miya atsumu was found teasing rintaro about something.

“rin? hello?” your voice echoes throughout his head, forcing rintaro into reality. 

“yeah, sorry,” he mumbles. he’s considering taking his word back — telling you that yeah, he does mean it as a friend. but he decides that he’s already too deep in and fuck it, he’s going to tell you. 

“i do like you…more than a friend. i have for a while, and i know it’s my fault that you had no idea, but i guess i’m telling you now?” rintaro grimaces at the uncertainty in his own voice. he’d always been so sure of himself — or, at least put effort into appearing as such. you’ve always been the exception to that, though, and he supposes that’s a fact that’ll never change. 

a beat of silence passes until you reply. 

“yeah. it is your fault.” you breathe. 

suddenly, all the air is gone from rintaro’s lungs. it forces him to stop in the middle of the sidewalk, shoes skidding against the concrete. his grip on his phone tightens, and he’s considering mumbling out some half-assed excuse about how he is, in fact, drunk. he’ll pray that you believe him, so he can run back to his apartment and maybe actually get drunk before pretending that everything is okay.

thousands of thoughts run through his head. some of them are about how he’s going to play this off, while others are about where you stand with him now. is this what being a setter feels like? having to go through hundreds of different situations to decide what will bring the best outcome? how shitty. he vaguely feels sympathy for atsumu. 

that is, until your laugh fills the air around him. 

“but you’ve told me now, so i think you should turn around.” 

he spins on his heel, coming face-to-face with you. your appearance is disheveled, looking as if you just ran to him — which, you did, based on the harsh breaths you’re taking — and you only have a thin t-shirt and sweatpants on. your phone is still by your ear, grinning at him. it’s childish and hopeful, reminding rintaro of the smiles you would send his way when the two of you would play on the swings during recess. he adored them just as much then as he does now.

rintaro has many bad habits. he’s aware of them, and despite what others may say, he’s come to terms with them.

but as he rushes forward and cups your face into his hands, he knows what he’d say if someone were to ask him what his worst habit was.

number 1: he can never say no to you.

[manmuncher777]

Hii could you do a Targaryen men and how they would react to their wife giving birth to twin boys?

Of course my love!! thank you for the ask, I love this idea. xoxo

𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬

Daemon

I feel like this is going to be a really hard time for Daemon, he would be full of mixed emotions.

From his own experience of being a brother to the king and craving that power for himself, you can tell he worries a lot for the future. He worries that you boys will have a power struggle much like he did. The only thing he can be glad of is the fact it wont be for the crown, just the inheritance of what you and Daemon share. But still the idea worries Hi greatly. it also brings back negative memeories he has of his childhood and his relationship with his brother.

Often after spending time with your sons Daemon will take some time alone afterwards

However this doesn’t make him love his sons any less, he was so proud of you when he saw your two beautiful boys, he struggled to stay in the same room when you were giving birth due to what happened with leanna, but when he saw you wre okay and both your children were healthy, he had no worries and shot straight to you side. All he could do was whisper how proud he was of strong girl for giving him two beautiful children. You had given him his firsts sons and he couldn’t be happier,

The idea of raising young men did worry Daemon a little, he was aware that he was going to need to be more involved, and he was conscious they would turn out like him. BUt that was something he should be looking forward to you told him.

He knew it was going to be different that raising girls, but Daemon would be fine. It took him a few months to get the hang of it, but you were glad he had some male company, even if they were his children

Aemond

Truthfully Aemond was very nervous before you gave birth. However he didn’t wish to show that so he actually avoided you a bit, nothing extreme. But he would spend him evening out before coming to bed with you. He would merely go out and walk. Just thinking

He would never tell anyone this but he was worried about a good father, He couldn’t help but feel the insecurities of his childhood flowing back when he released the responsibility he was about to have

BUt when you went into labour he couldn’t even remember why he was stress, all of those thoughts melted away and were replaced by undying love for his beautiful wife.

He couldn’t believe you still managed to look angelic after having pushed two humans out of you

Honestly he didn’t care too much about the gender of your children, but when he saw you gave him two sons he couldn’t have been happier.

He swore in that moment to be an involved father in his children lives unlike his own dad.

He was going to give his children the life they deserved

during your labours he sat silently by your side, holding onto your hand and kisses your head gently. He didn’t want to stress you out any more by creating a fuss. He couldn’t believe how string you were to give him two sons in a row. but it just made him more greatful for you

Aegon

Aegon couldn’t be happier, of course there was the worry of whether you were going to birth a girl or a boy. Secretly he was happy with either but he knew that wouldnt flu with the small council.

so when you have him not one but twi boys it was safe to say he was over the moon, part of him happy that neither of you had to face the scrutiny of his mother and the hand.

And he was also happy because he had two beautiful boys who were strong and healthy

You had fear over what was happening with the succession, which son would be king? did you just pick the one that came out first, but what if you get them mixed up. or what if they fight over it in the future.

Aegon could see all the worry you had, and told you not to worry. You were getting ahead of yourself, they have only just been born

he wished to enjoy the moment.

He was right next to you when you were giving birth. otto had suggested against it but he refused to miss the birth of his first born child

Your ladies hand to move him away from you however when he started getting in the way, it wasnt on purpose to be fair. He was trying to help.

But when he saw the first of your sons in your arms no one could stop him from being by your side, and stroking you hair and you both cooed down at the newborn in front of you

When he saw you pushing again he almost let out a yell of excitement

truth be told he couldn’t wait to be a father, his children would get whatever they wanted

[soul-controller]

Dad, Be Careful What You Wish For...

Ever since she was born, Brooke wanted nothing more than to gain her father Brad’s approval and love. Even from a young age, she was aware of the fact that she wasn’t the child he had expected. He was seemingly dead-set on having a son, so despite the confirmation of his wife being pregnant with a girl, he still set up a more masculine bedroom for his first child. No matter how hard he tried though, he was unable to make Brooke as athletic and manly as he desired… and he was quite pissed about that. 

Whenever his wife would work a night shift, Brad would force his daughter to watch ESPN with him while making sure to share his anger with his young daughter after having a few too many beers. “I really wish that you had been a boy,” he would say with a drunken slur, “I’d rather have no child than some bratty little girl”. Of course, these statements only furthered Brooke’s own shame in regards to her gender. 

This wasn’t the only sexism that Brad displayed though, as his wife was forced to subscribe into conventional gender roles (such as making dinner and doing all of the chores around the house) while actually working two jobs to provide for the family. No matter how hard she tried to fight back and assert herself, Brad was quick to dismiss her and knock her down a few pegs. As such, it wasn’t a surprise that she finally got up the courage to divorce Brad and flee from the state. While Brooke totally understood why her mom left, there was still some resentment felt as she was now forced by her father to pick up the slack and do those household chores for the family. 

No matter how hard she tried to be athletic though to win some approval from her father, she was never able to make it onto the basketball or cheerleading teams as her lack of hand-eye coordination consistently prevented her from ever making the final cut. Luckily for Brooke though, some relief from Brad’s constant athletic-related torment came when Braeden and Brighton were born when she was 6. The twin brothers were able to be easily molded into the athletic jocks that Brad had always wanted to help create, which was made especially clear as the trio sat in the living room watching sports and cheering while Brooke was forced to clean up their messes and keep the house looking clean. 

This fact was even more of a devastating blow as she made it through high school and found herself constantly coming face-to-face with old photos of her father plastered at the school’s athletic hall of fame display. With so many sad and pathetic try-outs under her belt, it had become clear to her that this innate ability to play sports wasn’t something that she had inherited from her father. Instead of putting her body through an intense workout in a gym or on a court though, she did end up finding a favorite pastime that kept her interest. Almost every day after school, she would head to her local library and study countless topics to keep her mind constantly learning new and interesting information. Despite this interest though, her father certainly didn’t approve and constantly ridiculed her for being a “pathetic wimp”. As such, it wasn’t much of a surprise that she felt constantly ashamed to be the daughter of such a well-renowned jock. 

Even as she moved on to a local community college, she couldn’t escape hearing about the impressive senior twins at the nearby high school who were surely both on their way towards a full ride athletic scholarship anywhere they wanted. Due to the constant praise about her siblings while she remained completely ignored by both the city and her family, it wasn’t much of a surprise that she felt constantly ashamed to be the nerdy daughter of such a well-renowned athletic family. In fact, she had grown so depressed that she almost always fell asleep wishing that her life could change for the better. 

One day after arriving home after some classes at the college, the 23-year-old was feeling especially upset due to the fact that news had broken that her twin brothers had not only won a full-ride scholarship for their sports abilities, but they also decided to attend her dream school. Upon dropping her bag onto the floor, Brooke felt completely exhausted and emotionally broken. So as soon as she fell back into her bed, Brooke allowed a few tears to run down her cheeks as she slowly cried herself to sleep. As she drifted off into unconsciousness, there were so many thoughts running through her head. She wanted so badly to be respected by her father and brothers, her mind couldn’t help but feel intense rage towards them. Just because she was some average girl not gifted with insane athletic ability didn’t make her useless! “I wish I had been a boy,” she slowly said under her breath, the last words she spoke before finally falling asleep. Unknown to her, the universe heard every thought and word that she muttered and began to help her achieve her dreams and fulfill her wishes… 

* * * * * 

As the early morning chimes of an alarm rang out in Brooke’s bedroom, a hand was quick to come out from under the covers and turn it off. But instead of Brooke’s pale and dainty arm coming out of the sheets, a tanned, buff, and hairy arm was what quickly slammed down onto the clock. As this same arm ripped away the covers and sat up in the bed, it soon became that the former Brooke had become replaced with an absolute hunky stud of a man. Instead of golden blonde hair and an average-looking face, this new brown-haired individual was graced with modelesque features and impressive facial hair. Even as the man widely yawned aloud and stretched out his arms, he still looked absolutely gorgeous while doing it. Upon rubbing his eyes a few times, the man finally got himself out of bed and started to make his way towards the bathroom. As he passed the threshold of the doorway, he quickly closed the door and flicked on the bathroom light. 

While waiting for the shower water to warm up, the man took the opportunity to check himself out in the mirror. It was at this point where it soon became clear that the body of a formerly meek and nervous woman was gone besides one remnant - their shared deep brown eyes.

Besides that though, the man standing in the mirror was a far cry from the woman she used to be. But for the original girl who had made that tearful wish, she had no way of knowing what had happened to her as her mind was also completely transformed. Instead of the name Brooke, the only name that came to mind was Brock, which was most certainly befitting of a bonafide stud like him. His body was the most noticeable difference as his average and slightly toned physique was blessed overnight with incredible musculature: biceps, pecs, and abs that surely would have taken years of hard work. But in his mind, he had undergone all of that hard work as memories conjured up reminded Brock of his upbringing.

From as soon as he could walk, Brock was a naturally athletic and active man. Throughout his childhood, he played countless sports and still found himself eager for more. It was a bit of a chore for his mother to drive him to every possible game and tournament, but she was still willing to do it for her own child’s happiness. Luckily, the man soon found the perfect area to tire himself out: the gym. As soon as he was given a gym membership for his 14th birthday, Brock practically lived there whenever he wasn’t at school or at practice. 

Along with these memories, Brock also learned more about the new relationship he had with his father. For years, they had been incredibly close, but as Brock continued to mature and grow bigger and bigger, some strain emerged in their relationship. Clearly, Brad was intimidated by his son’s physique as he grew bigger than he had ever been, but nothing left him angrier than his son’s success in all of the same sports that he played in high school. One-by-one, Brock found himself beating his father’s long-held records to the point where the high school’s athletic hall of fame display was primarily composed of photos of Brock’s young jock self. Due to this, their relationship had this one-sided beef due to Brad’s intense jealousy. However, this shifting in personality made it so Brock loved that jealousy as he loved getting under his dad’s skin. In fact, there were many memories that even involved him taunting his dad by calling him “short stuff” or stating that he was looking smaller than usual. In many ways, these little jabs against his father only pushed him to get bigger and hunkier than his father ever could be! 

When it came to his other memories regarding his family, the relationship he had with his brothers seemed to be rather standard. Given his status as the buff older brother, there wasn’t a moment that went by where he wasn’t tormenting them in clear displays of his power (both physically and mental). Whenever they were distracted, Brock loved nothing more than sneaking up on them and pulling them into a headlock. It was always humorous to watch them struggle against the bulge of his bicep and dampness of his armpits, so even when they begged him to stop, Brock refused to ruin the fun he was having. 

While he was certainly enjoying his trip down memory lane, the steam billowing above the shower curtain told Brock that it was finally time to get washed up. So upon stripping out of his clothes, he took a moment to admire his muscular ass and above-average cock before stepping in and washing every inch of his broad and buff body. 

Once he had headed back to his bedroom and got dressed, he wasted no time grabbing onto his gym bag and making his way down to the kitchen. The area was rather hectic as Brock’s brothers were making a racket while Brad sat in the adjoined living room drinking coffee and watching ESPN. To Brock, this worked to his advantage though as he took the opportunity to sneak up on Braeden and do his usual headlock gag. 

“Pfft, Brock stop!” Braeden attempted to say, only to be stopped by finding his face coming face-to-face with Brock’s still slightly damp armpit. Chuckling as his young brother flailed in search of an escape, the buff older brother finally let go of Braeden and watched him fall back away from him. “Gosh bro, why do you always have to do this shit?” Braeden angrily said, trying to be intimidating but clearly failing due to his smaller build. 

“Because it’s funny when you whine like a bitch afterwards,” Brock said with a smirk, slugging his brother lightly in the shoulder before making his way over to the kitchen counter. Upon arriving, the stud began to instinctively make his usual morning protein shake before he headed off to the gym. Throughout this entire process, the two brothers were doe-eyed while talking to their brother. Clearly, despite his torment they still admired him and aspired to be as big as him one day. It was a pleasing thought to Brock as well, especially as he’s always desired to have the most respect out of anyone else in the room at all times. 

“So, when do you think you’ll finally let us be in one of your videos?” Brighton asked, trying his best to evoke puppy dog eyes while asking the same age-old question to his brother. Ever since he was 16, Brock had created social media accounts that documented his muscle growth and various routines. To his surprise though, his account “brocktherock” went super viral around his 18th birthday due to his hunkiness and affinity towards thirst trap videos, which quickly turned him into an overnight sensation. Before long, Brock had dropped out of college to embrace his workout dreams by turning his account into something that shared both knowledgeable workout tips and tricks along with consistent thirst trap material that always brought more people into his sizable following. 

With the creation of this “brocktherock” brand, this allowed him to quickly become quite wealthy from all of the brand deals, modeling gigs, and offers to pay for personal training he received. Although he still lived in his childhood home, the 26-year-old hunk was thinking strategically by living off of his father’s hard work and saving his cash until he could fully move out and buy a full place of his own. 

Returning back to the question posed, Brock shook his head and delivered the same response. “I don’t think you’re ready yet bud, maybe when you’re a bit bigger!” he said, cushioning the blow with a slight pat on the 18-year-old’s shoulder and a flash of his pearly white smile. As he turned off the blender and transferred the drink into one of his workout bottles, Brock quickly grabbed his bag and began to head towards the front door. 

Upon seeing his father though, Brock stopped dead in his tracks and turned towards him. “Hey, just wanted to let you know I’m heading to the gym to film another video. Gotta make sure to document all of these gains!” he said, chuckling to himself as Brad stared at him with intense fury in his eyes. But just as he began to move back towards the door, Brock stopped himself to give one final jab towards his father. “Hey pop, are you looking smaller than usual? I know it’s hard to stay buff at your age, but if you ever want any tips, I’m more than liking to help train you!” he smugly said, lifting up a bicep and flexing before finally making his exit from the house. 

While Brooke hadn’t intended for her wish to turn her into a shift into a buff stud even cockier than her dad and brothers, it was most definitely a necessary transformation. No more would she ever feel ignored or disrespected, especially when it came to her dad and brothers. The brothers adored Brock and essentially worshiped the ground he walked on while Brad was filled to the brim with jealousy and anger. He had always wanted a son to be athletic and hunky like him, but he never could have imagined that he could have ever created someone that was even more attractive and bigger than him!

Like what you read? Please consider signing up for my Patreon to read more stories and support my work.  

[7-wonders]

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x Reader

Summary: Life has never been the kindest to you, and you've come to expect only the worst from it. But when a golden-eyed stranger shows up at your place of work and promises you that all your dreams will come true if you just trust them, how are you to say no? Get ready—a ball in the Dreaming awaits.

(Based on the below ask)

Word count: 14.2k

Notes: A couple of housekeeping notes before we get into it! First, this is very heavily inspired by the "Season of Mists" plot from the comics. In the wider universe for this story, this replaces the events in that comic arc. There are no spoilers for the actual comics, though. The only thing you need to know about SoM is that there's an event that brings basically every important magical being to the Dreaming. This isn't super important, but I wanted you guys to be aware of the thought process behind what I did.

Also, for all my nonbinary and male readers—this fic features a gender neutral reader! I sincerely hope that everybody enjoys this.

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round (but especially comments and reblogs), so if you enjoyed, show a gal some love!

Desire of the Endless

Desire of the Endless is facing a problem.

For the first time since…well, they can’t remember, actually, that’s how long it’s been since they felt the need to apologize for anything.

Desire has always prided themself on being completely and unapologetically them. If somebody didn’t like that, or if someone’s feelings got hurt, then too bad. That was their fault for not knowing what they were going to get into when they made Desire’s acquaintance.

However, Desire can also recognize when they’ve taken things too far, which is a very steep bar to hit. Practically everything that Desire does, they can justify it completely. This time, though, they finally can’t justify what they’ve done.

So an apology it is. A simple apology, however, is not going to cut it in this situation. Not that it should! But still, it would be a lot easier to patch things up if all it took was a “sorry.” 

Oh well, Desire would just have to get creative in coming up with the apology to end all apologies. Thankfully, they had their dearest twin to turn to when they needed help with a little brainstorming, which is how Despair ends up lounging on a shiny red settee created from the very fabric of the Threshold.

Said anthropomorphic personification watches as her twin continues to pace, back and forth and back and forth, the heels of their shoes clicking against the floor for maximum effect. They perk up every so often before muttering something and shaking their head, discouraged once more. Despair, apparently having finally had enough, lifts her head from the armrest to give her full attention to her twin.

“Your despair is too much for even me to bear, Desire. Please, what is it that troubles you?”

“Our brother troubles me, and not in the way that he normally does.” Desire takes a seat next to their sister. “I find that I…regret the way that I have treated him over the past couple of centuries. I went too far.”

“Was it the ‘helping to trap him in a magician’s basement for a hundred and sixteen years’ or the ‘impregnating a sleeping woman in an attempt to make him spill family blood by killing the new Vortex’ that went too far?” Despair asks dryly.

Desire bares their teeth in a teasing warning, but Despair merely shrugs as if daring their twin to do it and rip her throat out. Desire sighs, knowing that they won’t be able to rattle her, they’ve never been able to accomplish that, and continues. “Regardless, I realize now that I went too far, and I want to make amends with him. Apologize to him.”

“And how are you planning to do that? I doubt a simple ‘I’m sorry’ will patch things up between you two.”

“I realize that too, which is why I seek to give him something to prove just how sorry I am. That’s where you come in, my dearest Despair. I’ve been brainstorming for days, but I have absolutely no idea what to give him as an apology.”

“Hmm.” After a moment, she nods. “I see your problem. Dream’s never exactly been easy to give a gift to.”

Despair begins to think, absentmindedly digging her fish hook into the skin of her face before dragging it down and repeating the process. Desire has always found themself morbidly fascinated by this compulsion that their twin has, unable to look away from the jagged skin that hangs open and the black ichor that drips sluggishly from the wounds.

The hook comes to rest on Despair’s lap, a sign that she’s finished thinking. “Most of your transgressions against our brother have involved you seeking to destroy the two things that control him most. His realm, and his loves. His realm is his duty, his function, his responsibility; he must have control over that, for it’s who he is.”

“Yes, Dream is nothing if not a stickler for his silly little rules,” Desire agrees.

“True, but you’re forgetting that second piece of the puzzle I mentioned. What has Dream always wanted more than anything?”

What was the one thing that Dream wanted, needed, desired, more than anything? The answer, though Despair already said it, hits Desire in the face. “Love,” they gasp. 

Love! A mere step away from, and more often than not, intertwined with, Desire’s very function. 

“But I cannot make somebody love him. Desire him, yes. That’s easy. Though the two are similar, love is something that even I cannot meddle in.”

“I’m not saying that you make somebody love him, nor that you even use your function to acquire this gift.”

Desire’s brows raise from the intrigue of what’s just been said. “Then what?”

“We both know that you’re extremely talented when it comes to meddling in others’ affairs. Instead of using it to harm this time, use it to help. Find Dream’s true love, and make it so that they come together. I believe mortals today call it a ‘meet-cute’?”

At first glance, it seems difficult, if not impossible. While the idea of true love is not rare (at least, to higher beings that know such a thing exists–mortals are still attempting to figure that out for themselves), true love among the Endless is, as of yet, still undiscovered. What if Dream doesn’t have a true love? Even if he does, how is Desire to find out such info—

Their train of thought screeches to a stop as they remember the function of their other brother. Of course! Destiny surely has it in his stupid Book whether or not Dream has some poor soul destined for him. And if he doesn’t, and the rest of his life is meant to be a string of shorter, passionate loves, then it would still be written down. Desire can bring him that happiness sooner as a show of good faith, a way to prove that they’re truly ready and willing to make amends. It’s growth, baby, and Desire’s entering a new era.

So yes, the task does seem difficult. But if there’s one thing Desire loves, it’s getting to play matchmaker. Getting to play matchmaker while meddling in the life of their favorite/least favorite sibling? Even better.

Slowly, a Cheshire Cat grin spreads across their face, and they press a kiss to Despair’s cheek, who begrudgingly accepts the affection. “You, my sister, are a genius.”

“I know.”

After seeing their twin back to their realm, Desire begins their second favorite hobby of scheming as they try to figure out how they’re going to trick Destiny into giving them a peek at his Book. Tough, considering the Book is literally chained to Destiny, but Desire has never been one to back away from a challenge.

Their chance at trickery comes sooner than expected, a mere two weeks later at the first family dinner held since Dream was deposed. None of the six remaining Endless are particularly thrilled to be in the Garden of Forking Ways, and it shows in the guarded way that they hold themselves as they stand around the room and wait to be summoned to the seven-sided table that sits in the middle of it. 

Well, all except for the youngest are guarded. Delirium sits upside down in her chair, creating multicolored butterflies that fly out of the palms of her cupped hands and lazily around the room.

As the shades that serve Destiny move in and out of the room with various platters of food and drink, said Endless finally motions for his siblings to sit down along with him. Even then, they remain in an awkward silence. This family dinner is such a sudden event that none of them are entirely sure if there’s a reason behind it, leaving all feeling a little wary.

Destiny, being the eldest and the host of tonight’s festivities, is the first to speak. Naturally, it answers what none had been brave enough to ask. “I suppose you must be wondering why I called you all here.”

“Yes,” Dream says, even though it’s an obvious question. Of course they’re all wondering why they’re here. 

“The Book has determined that we must meet.”

“Obviously,” Despair sighs. “But why? What are we meant to do while we’re here?”

“Rainbow butterflies!” Delirium throws her hands up into the air, releasing a swarm of rainbow butterflies. “Has everybody been watching the butterflies that I’ve been making? They’re pretty.”

Everybody simply watches the youngest sister, none saying anything. Finally, Destiny shakes his head. “No matter why we’re meant to be here. It clarified much that, previously, made little to no sense. Something important will happen. Something that sparks a chain of events, causing much change and upheaval.”

“And what is that occasion?” Death asks.

“This meeting. That is all.”

“Explain this further, my brother,” Dream prompts. “What must happen?”

“No. I have told you all I tell you. I have brought you all to this place. The rest is up to the five of you. Drink the wines. Eat of the fruit of my garden. Talk. It has been centuries since we were all together. We must have much to discuss.”

Desire sees their opening and takes it. “Mm, I bet we do. Why don’t we start with…Dream!”

Dream looks across the table at his sibling suspiciously. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Tell me...” 

Desire is tempted to say something about his scorned lovers, but since they’re trying to work on making amends and not taking things too far, they refrain. One of the most difficult things they’ve ever had to do, truly.

“Killed any more of your unruly dreams or nightmares lately?”

What? They can still try to get a rise out of Dream in ways that won’t cut so deep. By the way his nose flares as he sits up straighter at the table, they know they’ve accomplished this mission.

“It needed to be done, and I will not take criticism from you on the choices I make regarding my realm,” Dream spits.

“Okay!” Death, ever the peacemaker, attempts to cut the tension. “Why don’t we talk about a different subject. Anything exciting happening for you, Dream?”

“Yes, actually.” Dream sits up in his seat a little straighter. “There is to be a ball in the Dreaming on the next full moon, to celebrate the return of my realm to its full strength. You are, of course, all invited.” 

Ah, so Dream is to show the other monarchs and higher beings, gods and goddesses and deities, that his power has returned and that he is not to be trifled with. Desire can appreciate a good power play, and this is really all that the ball will be. A chance for the Dreaming to pull out all the stops, serve their finest food and drink, offer the most raucous and extravagant party so that every realm in existence will know that the King of Dreams and Nightmares has returned and is more powerful than they will ever be. 

“Oh, how fun!” Death claps her hands together. “I remember when those used to be a regular occurrence in the Dreaming. Your dreams and nightmares do know how to throw a proper party.”

“I like parties,” Delirium chirps, hands chasing after the butterflies. “I’m gonna wear a princess dress!”

The rest of the dinner is fairly boring, compared to other family dinners in the past. Talk of Dream’s visit to Hell and the potential concerns there, minor gods ceasing to exist in the memories of mortals and thus returning to nothing, the problems that the Endless face in their daily lives as they continue their functions: it’s too normal for Desire’s liking, but they’re truly trying their hardest to not cause any major spats. Plus, they need to remain in Destiny’s good graces if they wish to have a chance at momentarily separating him from his Book.

When the dinner finally ends–Death is the first to excuse herself, with an earthquake calling for her to return to her function–the siblings begin to trickle out slowly, one after the other. Desire motions for Despair to go on without them, and while she would normally cause a fuss at having to leave without her beloved twin, she knows that they have an ulterior motive tonight and nods before disappearing back through her portrait.

When Delirium finally tumbles her way into her realm, it’s just Desire and Destiny left remaining in the Garden of Forking Ways. Desire sidles up to their older brother, who sighs wearily and looks with his unseeing eyes at his sibling.

“Desire, shouldn’t you be back at the Threshold by now?”

“Brother Destiny,” Desire coos, trying to seem as laid back as they usually are. “Doesn’t that book of yours ever get too heavy to carry?”

“You’re not going to fool me,” he says. Desire grits their teeth and curses under their breath. “For reasons beyond my understanding, however, the Book dictates that I do this.”

“Do what?”

It’s obvious that he doesn’t want to, but Destiny holds his Book out towards Desire. They can’t believe their luck, and quickly snatch the book from their brother before he can say that the Book said something different and take it back. Their nails–red, of course–run along the plain brown cover before they flip the Book open.

There, laid out as plain as can be, is the answer to Desire’s query. Dream does have a true love, much to Desire’s utter delight, and said true love is a human. A human! If the Universe didn’t want Desire righting their wrongs, then they wouldn’t make Dream’s other half the same species of being as the one whom Desire first meddled with all those years ago.

“Did you find what you were seeking?” Destiny asks, making Desire remember that they’re not alone. When they look up from the Book, they notice their brother’s hands twitching as he fights to snatch back his most precious belongings.

“Yes, I did.” Desire hands the Book back, and Destiny cradles it as if it’s been missing for months and not like he was inches away from it the entire time. “Thank you very much, brother mine. I believe I’ll be going now.”

After all, they have a lot to do between now and the full moon.

You

You’re attempting to sneak a couple of quick bites from your shift meal when the door chimes to signal that it’s been opened, and you sigh before setting down the french fry you were so looking forward to enjoying. Though you want to be disappointed, you know better than that.

Life has taught you better than to enjoy things so that you can find yourself inevitably disappointed by them.

Maybe that’s a little pessimistic for one just entering adulthood. Still, when you’re kicked out and left to fend for yourself in your teen years while your peers are only worrying about homework and if their boyfriend will still be their boyfriend by the time the school formal rolls around, cynicism feels a little warranted. 

You’ve worked anywhere from two to four jobs at a time just to have enough money for a place to live. While you’re now down to only two jobs, which you enjoy, for the most part, it still means that you’re far more stressed and tired than you would wish to be. You’ve made peace with the fact that you’ll seemingly always have to fight to enjoy any quality of life…well, you’ve mostly made peace with it. There are times, like now, where you’re exhausted and hungry and you just want to scream and rage at the cards life has dealt you.

Instead, you just put a smile on your face and get ready for your next customer. When you make your way to the end of the restaurant’s bar where the newcomer has seated themself, they’re already watching you expectantly. Their eyes, golden and piercing, make your skin crawl in the way that it does when it feels like someone knows more about you than you’ve cared to divulge.

“Well, hello,” they greet.

The newest bar patron grins at you with dark purple-painted lips. They’re stunning, and also insanely overdressed (seriously, a fur coat?) for a casual bar. You’d think that they were just coming from a party if it weren’t for the fact that it’s 7 p.m. on a Wednesday. Going to one, then? Mid-week parties are rare, but they seem like a person who just naturally gets invited to every and any party.

“Hi there, how are you?” you greet, cringing at the worn-out sound of your customer service voice after almost 12 hours of using it.

“Oh, just swell.”

“Great! What can I get for you?”

“Hmm, gin and tonic?”

You nod, hands already reaching for the required ingredients. Though it took forever to really get the hang of bartending, it’s kind of like riding a bike; once you learn, you can’t forget. “I’m on it.”

Your patron gratefully takes the glass that you slide across the bar to them, taking a long sip before letting out a satisfied noise. “My, you do know how to make a good drink.”

“Hah, thank you. Can I get you anything else?”

“No, but I’d love it if you could spare a moment to chat.”

“Um–” You scan the bar in a quick check of your other customers, of which there are few now that the dinner rush is over. Just a couple of regulars, so you really have no excuse to say no. “Yeah, sure. Just for a moment, though.”

It’s not uncommon that people want to talk with you. Whether because of your job, that you’re a captive audience, or the fact that you’re providing them with a steady stream of alcohol, customers love spilling their guts to their bartenders. This customer, however, gives you hesitance. They just look like they’re up to no good, like they’re hoping to use you for something that you don’t want to be a part of.

Regardless, you put away the bottles you were using and turn your full attention to the customer, who’s savoring their drink in much smaller sips than they did previously. Although you’re a great multitasker, people think that you’re not fully listening when you’re doing other tasks. And though you try to get your busy work done during your shift so you can get out of here the second you’re scheduled to clock out, you also know how to maximize your tip potentials. You win some, you lose some, you suppose.

When they finally do speak, you’re not expecting them to say, “You look like someone who wants more out of life.”

It’s an odd way to start a conversation, but you’ll bite. Not the first philosophical patron you’ve had. “I mean, who doesn’t? I feel like life is just constantly seeking…more. More money, more knowledge, more connection.”

“A very interesting way of considering the meaning of life. But you, specifically. You have not had a very easy go of things, have you?”

You narrow your eyes. “What are you getting at?”

“You wish for adventure. For a purpose bigger than that which you’ve been led to believe you’re destined for. For something great.”

Swallowing harshly, your pulse thunders in your ears as you grip the wood of the bar, suddenly feeling extremely disconcerted. It could just be a generalization, one that most people would relate to were they called out on it, but it seems like the customer knows you, knows your innermost desires, just from looking at you. Finally, you slowly nod. Their grin somehow seems to grow even bigger.

“Mm, I thought so. Take this.” From within the sleeve of their coat, the stranger produces a business card. “It will help make all your…dreams come true.”

Hesitantly, you take the piece of paper from them. When you look down at it, expecting to see the usual business card information like a name and a phone number, you’re surprised to see that it’s completely blank. Even when you flip it over, the blank back greets you.

“But there’s nothing on—” Your sentence trails off when you look back up, the nameless customer long gone. In their place sits the empty glass, stained with their dark lipstick, of course, and a ten-dollar bill. Other than that, an intoxicating perfume is the only sign that they were even here in the first place.

An indeterminate amount of time passes as you try to figure out what just happened, with the only thing snapping you out of your stupor being the calling of your name. Tate, this evening’s line cook, stares at you expectantly.

“You okay?” she asks. “I’ve called your name three times now, but you’ve just been standing there like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Um.” 

Are you okay? Spooked, yes, but there’s nothing that you can really do about that now. 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good.” Tate nods, still not looking too convinced. “Table seven’s looking like they’re ready for the check.”

“I’m on it.” 

And you are. Like the good, dutiful worker you’ve always been, you push down any of your actual emotions and thoughts and put on your service face, smiling and ready to accept anything thrown your way.

By the time your shift is over at 11, the encounter with the nameless customer is long forgotten. All that you can think when you finally make it home is about going to bed and sleeping until you have to be up for your other job tomorrow morning. 

Just unlocking the door and stepping into your tiny apartment has your shoulders releasing the tension that had been built up in them all day. Yeah, your apartment is tiny and probably not the best in terms of quality. But it’s yours, and it’s home, and that’s what matters to you. You’ve made the very best of it, and for now, nobody can take that away.

It takes almost all of the remaining energy you have to strip off your work clothes and do some semblance of your nighttime routine, and you mentally thank Tate for insisting you eat something while on the clock. You don’t think you could stay awake long enough to actually eat something right now. When you fall into bed and pull the covers up around you, your only thought is that you hope that you have the type of deep sleep that doesn’t produce any dreams or nightmares. Lord knows you need it.

The hopes that you had are promptly crushed when you open your eyes to find yourself standing on a bridge that leads to a large palace. It’s the oddest place you’ve ever seen, an amalgamation of palaces from all sorts of cultures. Domes and spires and turrets make up the outside architecture, and though it sounds like an eyesore, it’s actually quite beautiful. Strains of music spill out from the open doors, and guests in a variety of finery make their way inside to join what appears to be a party. 

You should be wondering why you’re here, as well as how you’re currently having the most vivid dream you’ve ever had, but all questions seem to be answered by the logic of it being a dream. Of course weird things are going to happen; it’s a dream. Maybe tomorrow, you’ll wake up and think about just how strange the dream actually was. But right now, you’re just going to go with the flow, even if that flow is, apparently, a royal ball.

“Hello, mortal,” a voice as sickly-sweet as honey croons next to you. When you look to your right, you find your golden-eyed customer from earlier in the day standing next to you. This still doesn’t concern you, and if you took the time to be concerned, you’d still just chalk it up to the nature of dreams.

“It’s you!” you exclaim.

They hold their hands out and wave them in an effortless jazz hands. “Yes, it’s me.” 

They’re somehow dressed even more elegantly than they were at the restaurant, wearing a silver corset tucked into a pair of wide-legged, black trousers. Their heeled boots add a couple of inches to their already-tall figure, and you have to look up in order to properly look them in the eye.

“I was beginning to get a little concerned that you weren’t going to take my offer.”

“Uh, sorry? I just got off of work a little bit ago.” 

They wave a hand dismissively. “What, didn’t tell your boss that you had better things to do?”

“You weren’t exactly forthcoming with the details,” you mutter. Your former customer begins to take long, purposeful strides towards the crowds waiting to get into the palace, and you hurry to catch up. “Wait, where are we?”

“This is the Dreaming and you, my dear, are about to attend a ball.”

“What, like in Bridgerton?”

They scoff, obviously offended by your reference. “Please, this is miles better than anything Bridgerton could even hope to come close to. But yes, I suppose so.”

Panic floods you, but not for the reason you’d think. “But I’m not even dressed for a ball!”

They raise a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow at you. “You’re not?”

When you look down at yourself, you find that you are, in fact, dressed for a ball.

An entire galaxy has come down from the heavens in order to settle itself on the champagne-colored fabric of the most fancy clothes you’ve ever worn. The golden stars, all different sizes, shimmer with each twist of your body that you make in order to properly catalog your outfit. The best part of this ensemble, by far, has to be the cape that you’re wearing that’s held on your shoulders by three delicate chains clasped together across your chest.

“Oh my god,” is all you can say, finding it difficult to tear your eyes away from the complete transformation your wardrobe has undergone.

“Close, but not quite,” they say cheekily. “Though, I do enjoy being worshiped.”

You meet their liquid gold stare. “Why are you helping me? Why am I here?”

“Now that’s a long story. Let’s just say that I owe somebody an apology, and you’re a part of said apology.”

There are so many more questions bouncing around in your mind, but they turn on their heel before you can ask any of them, forcing you to keep up with them as they walk to the entrance of the palace. 

“Hello, Wyvern.”

The dragon (a dragon! You’re staring at a dragon!) bows his head at the greeting. “Desire.”

“Is that your name?” They ignore your question.

“You are, as always, welcome in my Lord’s domain.” The wyvern looks at you. “Your guest, however, needs an invitation to enter.”

“Go on, present your invitation,” Your companion prompts.

You furrow your eyebrows. “My invitation?”

Oh! The paper that they had given you back at the bar. But wait, where had you put that stupid paper? You have to think for a second before remembering, and any relief you had felt is washed away by the panic returning in full-force when you remember where it is. Looking at your mysterious benefactor with wide eyes, you grimace as you try to figure out how to explain this to them.

“I left it in the pocket of my work jeans.”

They sigh as if you’re a minor nuisance, which, maybe you are. “Check your pockets, dear one.”

Slipping your hands into your pockets, you’re already preparing an “I told you so” speech. After all, how could that business card have magically moved from one set of pockets to another? When your fingers brush against something very paper-like, you almost can’t believe it. Your mind has already worked out the whole “dream logic” issue, but teleportation seems to be too much even for that.

When your hand emerges holding the paper, your friend smiles smugly at you and nods their head in the direction of the large, mythical animals. “Now present your invitation.”

You hold the paper up towards what had previously been referred to as a wyvern. Even though there’s nothing written on it, he studies it for a moment before nodding. “I bid you welcome on behalf of my Lord. Enjoy the festivities.”

“Uh, thanks!” you say, manners winning out among the insanity of the evening.

The crowd parts for your friend as guests bow their heads politely, which makes you think that there’s a lot that you don’t know about this person who inserted themself into the middle of your life. What did I get myself into?, you wonder as you hurry behind them and into the ballroom.

You haven’t exactly seen very many ballrooms in your life before now, but even if you had, this one would be your favorite. It reminds you of pictures you’ve seen of Russia’s Imperial Palace during the reigns of the tsars, all cathedral ceilings and marble columns. One of the walls is just a line of windows that looks out over a picturesque valley, and breathtaking artwork from some of history’s most exalted artists looms overhead. The guests of this ball, all opulently dressed, mingle below, with many already dancing to the music that comes from an unseen orchestra.

At the top of a long set of stairs sits a stone throne, currently unoccupied. The ruler of this land must be really lonely, you think. Why else would they purposely place themselves so far away from everyone else, if not to feel the sharp sting of being alone?

The pièce de résistance of this entire room, however, has to be the ceiling. You’re not sure whether it’s magic or if the ballroom doesn’t even have a ceiling and instead looks straight up at the most striking view of the sky you’ve ever seen. You can’t tear your eyes away from the swirling galaxy that’s more beautiful than any NASA telescope picture could even begin to capture, and you’re sure that your jaw is hanging open and making you look like an idiot.

You’re so caught up in the wonder that sits directly over your head that you don’t notice when your new friend spots someone or something that they want to go check out. Apparently deciding that it’s a good idea to at least give you a little courtesy warning, they sidle up behind you.

“Have fun,” they whisper into your ear. 

When you turn around, they’re nowhere to be seen, which means you now have to fend for yourself in an unfamiliar situation. Not ideal, but you should be fine. After all, this is just a dream, right?

Since you were given the advice to “have fun,” you decide to try and actually do so. People watching is always fun, made even more so when everyone is dressed up in all manner of finery. As you study the crowd a bit more, you realize that “people watching” is the wrong term to use, because the vast majority of the guests here aren’t human people.

There are beings clothed in white robes with huge wings on their backs that surely must be angels. Some guests wear traditional regalia from Greek, Roman, Japanese, and other historic empires. The most unsettling are the ones that look human, beautiful, even, until you’re able to take an extended look at their faces and realize that the beastly masks they’re wearing, the horns and the snouts and any other combination of monstrous features, aren’t masks at all. Rather, those are their faces, heavily decorated with makeup, but terrifying just the same.

There’s a little girl in an oversized party dress and clown makeup clapping her hands as a gargoyle tries blowing up a balloon, and a literal void with faces in it speaks to a tall, imposing figure with golden curls and black wings. You’re pretty sure one of the guests is even a human-sized cat woman. Not Catwoman, like the supervillain, but a cat woman. You try not to stare, but it’s impossible, and your eyes keep finding your way back to her as you continue to walk around the outskirts of the ballroom.

Even though you’re completely and utterly normal, it’s impossible for anybody attending tonight’s festivities to not feel the sheer power that each and every being here seems to possess. It’s beginning to make you feel self-conscious: if you can sense the magic that all of the guests have, then surely they can tell that you’re not like them. Everywhere you turn, it seems like you’re meeting somebody else’s eyes as they judge you and how out of place you are.

Your chest grows tight as your skin pricks with heat, the room suddenly beginning to be far too crowded for your liking. There must be a way for you to get outside. You need air, or else you’re worried that you’re going to pass out in front of all these partygoers—after a moment of frantically scanning the room, you see the main hallway that you and your strange new friend had entered through. Knowing for a fact that this path will lead you outside, you set out with a determination to make it through the crowd.

This task, however, is much more difficult than you had previously thought it would be. Apparently, the room being so crowded wasn’t just a part of your panicked imagination; there are far more guests here now, and it’s almost impossible to move through all of them. The music, which just minutes ago seemed whimsical and charming, now sounds sinister in your ears as somebody grabs you and begins to dance with your unwilling form.

Like a doll, you’re spun from one person to the next, all of them ignoring your helpless pleas as you beg them to stop. Instead, much to your chagrin, they all seem to take joy in your panic as they laugh and leave you with no choice but to obey their whims. You’re dizzy and breathless, and at this point you can’t tell if it’s from the dancing or the anxiety.

The next set of hands that grab you are much gentler than all the preceding pairs, and they bring you to a stop instead of sweeping you into another dance. Finally, finally, it seems that somebody has taken pity on you, the poor human that’s become nothing more than a glorified plaything. When your vision finally rights itself, you note that your savior’s even managed to pull you out of the maelstrom of people that had so easily claimed you. You go to thank this person, only to have what little breath you’ve regained stolen from you when you look up.

The man standing before you is a classic study in contrast. His chalk-white skin stands out strikingly against his robes and his hair, both as black as pitch. The only difference in shade comes from the flames that you can see licking up the bottom of his robes like they’re meant to be there. Though, in this dream world, it makes total sense that flames would be a good accessory.

He’s objectively one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen, but his features are sharper than that of a normal human’s, from the stately slope of his nose to his high cheekbones that are completely devoid of the flush that normally hides behind skin. The biggest giveaway that he’s not like you are his eyes: black pools in which stars twinkle and sparkle. They should be frightening; after all, nobody should have eyes that look like that. Instead, you just find yourself enraptured as you try not to lose yourself in them.

“I do not know you.” The bluntness with which he makes this statement is so jarring (not even beginning to mention that he has the deepest, smoothest voice you’ve ever heard) that it pulls you out of your daydreaming about his eyes, and you glare up at him.

“Okay? I don’t know you either.”

He seems to realize that he came off like a major jackass, and quickly backpedals. “Apologies, I did not mean to make it sound so accusatory. I simply find myself…curious. I believed that I knew everybody here.”

“Well that makes one of us, because I think I only know one person here.”

“Who?” he asks curiously.

You look around the room to see if you can find your mysterious friend, but they’re nowhere to be seen. “I can’t find them, it’s too crowded in here. You already know that though, considering you just saved me from being crushed or forced to dance until I collapse from exhaustion. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Of course. After all, I could not let one unfamiliar with those here be forced to mingle with Cluracan of the Faerie.”

He nods his head in the direction of a tall, willow-thin man with golden blond hair and pointed ears. If his pompous attitude wasn’t visible even from a distance, then his outfit, a coat and breeches with the same coloring as that of a peacock, would surely clue you in.

“By the looks of it, that would have been a fate worse than death,” you remark solemnly.

The man laughs. It’s a harsh bark of a laugh, one that sounds like it comes from someone who both doesn’t know how to laugh and has never heard a laugh before. People in your general vicinity look your way in alarm and discomfort, but you can only watch with a delighted, albeit confused, grin on your face.

“What’s so funny about that?”

“If you were to meet Death, you would find that she is actually quite pleasant. It is…enjoyable…to spend time with her.”

“Sounds like you’ve spent a lot of time with her.”

“I have.” 

His eyes grow soft and distant as he thinks of Death, and it’s obvious that he’s quite fond of her. He shakes his head slightly, pulling himself back to the present. 

“You did not look as though you were enjoying yourself, even before you were forced to dance.”

“So you were watching me?”

He suddenly feels the need to fastidiously study the galaxy ceiling, but you can see how his cheeks flush with embarrassment. To your surprise, it’s not the normal pinkish shade. Instead, it’s a light purple that spreads under his skin.

“You were!” you tease triumphantly.

“As I said, I believed that I knew everyone here. I was curious when I saw that wasn’t the case.” He looks back at you, those starry eyes twinkling. “You have not answered my question.”

It takes you a second to remember what his question was in the first place. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, everything here is so wonderful and fantastical! I guess I’m just not much of a party person. Never have been.”

“I must confess, I also find I am not too fond of these parties.”

“So then what are you doing here?”

“Currently? I am attempting to avoid Queen Titania of the Faerie.” 

He nods his head in the direction of a woman with blue-tinged skin and some of the most frighteningly dainty features you’ve ever seen, almost like those of a china doll. She’s frocked in a midnight blue gown with puffy sleeves, and as she moves through the room in an apparent search for your companion, a whole entourage follows obediently behind her.

“She’s not as good of a time as Death, I’m guessing?” you ask.

A smirk is the only answer that you get from him, apparently deciding to be enough of a gentleman that he won’t outright insult anybody.

It feels like a lightbulb goes off over your head as you think over what he said. “Wait, Queen Titania, like the character from Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

He looks immensely pleased at the connection that you’ve made. “The very same.”

“Huh. I wonder how Shakespeare met her.”

This seems to make him ponder something, and after a moment, he speaks again. “Where were you trying to go? Before you became an unwilling dance partner, that is.”

Oh yeah. You’ve so thoroughly enjoyed talking to this man that you almost forgot that you were on the brink of panic just a few minutes ago. “I was trying to find a way outside so that I could get some air.”

He nods. “Come, then. We shall get you some air, myself a reprieve from hiding, and I will tell you the story of how Shakespeare came to develop his cast of characters.”

When he holds his hand out to you, taking it is one of the easiest decisions you’ve ever made.

Keeping to the walls is a much better strategy than what you had tried before, which was to forge your own path through the crowds and hope for the best. You duck through one of the stone awnings near the back of the room, one that’s partially obscured by a heavy curtain. When you’ve successfully made it out, your companion’s relief at not being caught by the Queen of Faerie is palpable, and it makes you giggle.

You walk with him through the gardens for the rest of the evening, enjoying foliage that absolutely doesn’t exist in the real world and the company of one of the most enigmatic creatures you’ve ever spent time with. Yet, as he asks you question after question about the most mundane of subjects in your daily life, listening with rapt, awed attention as you answer each and every one, you feel like you’re the one that’s mystical and worshiped across all cultures.

(Though he hasn’t said it outright, you get the feeling that he’s some type of deity, which is simultaneously frightening and fascinating)

The flowers continually pull your attention away from the conversation at hand, not that your companion seems to mind too much. He dutifully fills the air with facts about each of the plants that you stop at, which is why it’s such a surprise when you’re suddenly surrounded by silence.

Looking up from a variant of daisy that shimmers as it goes down a gradient of white to red, and back again, you notice that he’s watching you. You smile at him, waiting for him to launch into the tale of how this flower came to be in this garden, and when he still doesn’t move, you grow a little concerned.

“What is it? Are you okay?” you ask. He seems to finally rouse himself from whatever daze he had gotten himself into.

“Yes, I…” He trails off, continuing to stare, before he shakes his head a couple of times and looks back at the party. This time, when he speaks, his voice is somehow softer than before. “I believe I promised you a story, yes?”

When he finally does get around to telling you the promised story, it’s so much better than anything you could have imagined. The man is a truly gifted storyteller. You can practically see the scene as he develops it, of a man in a darkened pub being offered the tantalizing gift of inspiration for works that would live on well past his death. Did Shakespeare worry that he was making a deal with some sort of demon, or was the prospect of everlasting fame more powerful than any fear or trepidation he may have felt?

“Is it a true story?” you ask, when he finishes with the first performance of Midsummer Night’s Dream which was, surprisingly, performed for an audience that included the actual Queen Titania. Apparently, she was thrilled by her portrayal, and gave the play a glowing review.

A coy tilt of the head is the only answer that you get, leaving the true interpretation of the story up to you, the listener. Though you want to say that it’s fake–after all, Shakespeare making a pact with an immortal creature that then helped him to come up with plays that would forever change the course of humanity just sounds ludicrous–another part of you, the part that has spent this impossible night surrounded by Fae and gods and all other manner of fantastical creature, knows that this is, in fact, true.

“Are you the one that gave him inspiration?”

“Perhaps,” is all that he says.

“You’re frustratingly vague, you know that?”

This makes him smile, and he looks down to simultaneously rein his emotions back in (he does that a lot, you notice) and to pull something from the sleeve of his robe. 

“Am I?” he asks.

His pale hand comes up to present you with one of the color-changing daisies you were looking at earlier. Your breath catches in your throat when he tucks the flower behind your ear, and when his hand lingers against your cheek, you think you’ll never establish a normal breathing rhythm ever again.

“And what would you do, were a stranger to come up to you and offer you anything you ever wanted?”

“Well, I–I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

At this point, you can barely do more than whisper. “On who the stranger is.”

Though you try not to, you can’t help yourself from looking down at his plush, pink lips. You dart your eyes back up to his face, worried about being caught, only to see that he’s done the same.

He leans in even closer, nodding his head slightly towards you. “May I…?”

You nod softly, worried that any sudden movements will ruin the perfect little bubble that you seem to have found yourself in. Are you really about to kiss this powerful being, the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on? When he brushes his nose against yours, you know the answer is that yes, yes you are about to kiss him. Just as your lips meet his, a harsh alarm jerks you out of his arms and back to consciousness.

Rolling over in your familiar bed, in your familiar apartment, you hit the screen of your phone harshly until the alarm finally turns off. Laying on your back, you stare up at the ceiling and replay every moment of the dream you just had while it’s still fresh in your mind.

You let out a disbelieving sigh at just how wonderful of a dream you had. The giddy smile is impossible to remove from your face, and you run your hands over your flaming cheeks as you giggle.

What a dream. A royal ball, mythical creatures, a gorgeous outfit, and the most captivating man you’ve ever imagined. You already know that you’ll be thinking about your dream man, and the kiss you almost shared, for days to come.

A second alarm, the one that warns that you really need to get out of bed and get ready if you don’t want to be late, begins to sound from your phone.

“Fine,” you mutter to the inanimate object, sitting up and pulling it off of the charger. “You win. I’m up.”

As you get out of bed, you don’t notice the daisy petals that you leave behind on your pillow.

You go about your day feeling like you’re on cloud 9, unable to stop thinking about last night. Not that you want to stop thinking about any moment of your dream. By the time you’re back at the bar for yet another evening shift (only two more days until you have an actual day off!), somebody finally decides to ask what the hell happened to you.

“What the hell happened to you?” Reese, tonight’s hostess for the restaurant side of the establishment, asks. “You’re walking around like a Disney princess or something.”

You shrug. “Just…had a really, really wonderful dream last night.”

“Like a sex dream? I’ve had a few of those that I’d call ‘really, really wonderful’.” Tate pipes up through the kitchen window, meaning you have no choice but to reach through and shove him.

“Fuck off!”

He laughs and jumps back to avoid your ire. “So it was a sex dream!”

“No! It was just really sweet and romantic, y’know?”

“I get it,” Reese says.

You gesture to her gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Who was the lead? Mine’s usually Harry Styles.”

Though you both sigh a little wistfully, you shake your head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this man before last night.”

“Isn’t it, like, a thing that you can’t dream of people whose faces you’ve never seen?” Tate asks.

“With a face like his, I definitely would have remembered seeing him while I was awake.”

“Fuck,” Reese grumbles when the door opens and a family walks in. “Can’t people be a little kinder and realize that we’re gossiping here?”

“Apparently not.” 

Everybody shares in a “we hate our customer service job” groan before breaking to do their respective tasks. Reese slaps on a big smile and asks “how many are joining you guys this evening?” Tate flips a couple of burgers on the grill, and you turn to check on your regulars that are enjoying a couple of after-work beers.

Sometimes, it really sucks that you can’t just daydream about whatever you want because you’re forced to work in order to survive. But as the night wears on and your plastic tip cup housed beneath the bar continues to grow more stuffed with bills thanks to very generous tippers tonight, you see the importance of not living in your head.

That is, until someone’s standing across from you at the bar and you smile at them in preparation to take their order, only to almost drop the glass you’re cleaning when you lay eyes on your dream man from last night.

He’s traded the long robes for a simple black peacoat, a black shirt, and black jeans, but he still manages to look regal in them. The wardrobe isn’t the main difference, though. That would be his eyes. Where last night they were black pools of stars, tonight, they’re a bright blue. Just as stunning, but in a completely different way.

The only thing about him that’s the same is his hair. The black strands are still just as wild and untamed as they were at the ball, and it makes your heart flutter to see. You have to hold yourself back from reaching across the bar to try and smooth them out a bit, but really, you just want to feel how soft his hair must surely be.

He’s smiling at you, that same shy smile that graced his lips while he was talking to you about plants. You realize that you need to say something, anything, but all you manage to come up with is, “Hi.”

“Hello.” His voice still sounds like what you imagine melted dark chocolate must sound like if it could talk, and your cheeks grow hot from it.

“It’s you. You’re real!” You wince at the stupidity of that statement. Obviously he’s real, he’s standing right in front of you!

He looks very amused by this, and you don’t blame him. “Did you think I was not?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I mean, it was just a dream.”

“It is never ‘just a dream’.”

You come around from the other side of the bar so that you can actually be standing across from him without anything impeding you. 

“I believe we forgot to properly make each other’s acquaintance last night.”

It’s only when he says that that you realize that he’s right. You don’t even know his name, and he doesn’t know yours. A glaring oversight on both of your parts, but one that he looks ready to correct. 

He gently takes one of your hands in one of his, bending just slightly at the waist as he brings your hand up to kiss the back of it.

“I am Morpheus, Dream of the Endless. You may call me by either name, dearheart, for either shall sound sweet coming from your lips.”

You entrust him with your name, and he grins so radiantly that you feel as though you’ve been standing in front of the sun. He repeats it back to you, and you could swear that you’ve never heard your name sound so beautiful before now. You’d give anything to hear him say it again and again. Hell, if the last word you ever heard on this Earth was this man–Dream! Morpheus!–saying your name, you’d die happy.

Even though you’re totally sure that this isn’t a dream (you know, you pinched your leg to make sure), part of you is still worried that either he or you will disappear again. Who’s to say that you’ll be able to find each other a second time? Just in case your fears come true, you decide to act before you can remember why you don’t act before thinking.

Dream’s still holding onto one of your hands, and you use it to pull him closer to you, close enough that your noses are almost touching as he bends his head just slightly to look at you. His eyebrows are raised as he waits for you to make your next move. Said next move consists of you wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a long-awaited kiss.

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it at all. One hand rests on your waist while the other goes to your chin so that he can tilt your head the way that he likes–you’re certainly not going to stop him from doing that. 

The restaurant patrons all start cheering, and you can hear Tate and Reese wolf-whistling. It’s embarrassing, but you’re too wrapped up in Dream right now to fully care. Maybe after you separate. For now, since both of your arms are over Dream’s shoulders, it makes it easy for you to flip your coworkers off without having to interrupt your kiss. 

Later, you’ll have to see if you can track down your strange, golden-eyed friend and thank them for giving a blank business card to a stranger who worked at a bar. After all, they were right. That card has made all your dreams come true.

Dream of the Endless

Dream of the Endless is not at all thrilled to be playing host to beings from almost every realm that the Dreaming has even the most tentative of alliances with. He received his reputation as a recluse for a reason, and it’s certainly not because he loves being social.

But tonight is not for him, no. It’s for the Dreaming. He had been gone for far too long, even if it was against his will. Not only had the Dreaming crumbled physically, but its standing as one of the most powerful realms in existence had crumbled too. Now that he was back and his kingdom restored to its former glory, if not more powerful than it was before his departure, he intended to remind each and every naysayer just why the Dreaming commanded their respect.

Of course, right as he’s thinking that the night is shaping up to be quite successful, he sees a guest that he most certainly did not invite. He knows this for certain, because he knows everybody and their dreams just by looking at them. Even if he didn’t, when one is alive for as long as the Endless have been, one gets to know most everybody that’s of a higher rank or class of the various realms.

You, with golden stars swimming across your body, are entirely unfamiliar to him. Even more unsettling is the fact that he doesn’t just intuitively know his name, which means there are other forces at play here. And on this night, where the Dreaming is meant to be at its best, he will not allow his enemies any opportunity to take that away from him.

It’s obvious in your demeanor that you’re uncomfortable amongst the crowds, and Dream is not the only one to notice it. When the eyes of the Trickster God, Loki Skywalker, land on you, Dream can almost see the plan formulating in the Norseman’s head. He takes a couple of quick steps, and before you can even blink, he’s swept you unwillingly into a dance.

You’re immediately begging for him to let you go, your fists pounding against his arms as you attempt to free yourself from his embrace. Loki does finally acquiesce to your demands, but simply spins you into another’s arms. Those in the general vicinity all seem to be in on this little joke, all of them laughing and taking their turn to have your resistant self in their embrace.

Suddenly, you don’t look like a threat. You’re simply a person, scared and out of your element, a pawn in the games of beings much more powerful than you. Dream may not know your true intentions, but he can’t continue to let this happen under his purview. With a single thought, he’s across the ballroom and pulling you into his own arms and away from those hoping to be next in line for a dance.

You stumble over your own feet, your body still propelled forward by the inertia of the other dancers that came before Dream. Blinking furiously to try and clear your vision, you’re finally able to look up at him without getting dizzy. 

Dream watches you try to figure out something, anything to say, and in return he studies you as well. It’s still impossible for him to divine any sort of information about you, but he can’t sense any other being’s magic on you that would be blocking his access. Apparently, you’re simply an anomaly, and that’s not including figuring out how you got past the gatekeepers in the first place.

“I do not know you,” he finally settles on saying. Apparently, by the way that you glare at him, it comes out much harsher than he had planned.

“Okay? I don’t know you either.”

He has to apologize, obviously. “Apologies, I did not mean to make it sound so accusatory. I simply find myself…curious. I believed that I knew everybody here.”

“Well that makes one of us, because I think I only know one person here.”

“Who?” he asks, wondering if this is the person that is blocking his access to you.

Though you look around the room, you don’t seem to find whoever it is. “I can’t find them, it’s too crowded in here. You already know that though, considering you just saved me from being crushed or forced to dance until I collapse from exhaustion. Thank you for that, by the way.”

Dream finds himself perturbed. Why wouldn’t he have helped you out of your less-than-ideal situation? It seems like common decency, but perhaps human society has decayed so badly that even this simple act warrants a heartfelt thank you.

“Of course. After all, I could not let one unfamiliar with those here be forced to mingle with Cluracan of the Faerie.”

He nods towards the aforementioned Fae, who is currently strutting around looking for his next conquest. Behind him trails his sister, Nuala, just as fair as her brother but decidedly a much kinder creature. She whispers something in his ear, and he merely brushes her off before continuing his search.

“By the looks of it, that would have been a fate worse than death,” you remark.

The statement, said with the confidence of someone who does not know that there are forces far beyond that which they may believe, is so humorous to Morpheus that he can’t help but laugh. How could anybody regret their time spent with Death? She is the literal oxymoron of her name; in fact, she should be the personification of sunshine instead of death.

Instead of shying away from him, because he does know that his laugh is truly horrific and thus wouldn’t blame you for doing so, you surprise Dream by grinning at the sound and looking rather proud of yourself for eliciting a laugh from him. Oh, he really enjoys this. 

He’s always found himself fond of those able to look beyond his function. As he continues to interact with you, he realizes that you apparently have no clue who he is. He also realizes that talking to you is not the same chore as it is to converse with the others that are here in his realm tonight.

Before he knows it, he’s offering to take you out to the gardens and tell you the tale of how a young Will Shaxberd came to be known as history’s greatest playwright. He shouldn’t be abandoning his guests, for that’s not what a good monarch does. However, it’s too tempting to not try and have you to himself. When you accept, he finds himself thrilled for the first time since before his imprisonment.

Dream takes great pride in the palace’s gardens. Much of the flora there had long since gone extinct, and the only thing keeping them alive in this moment was the Dream Lord’s memory (or, the memories of dreamers long gone whose knowledge Dream had leached from) of when they still flourished. He was happy to share those memories with anyone willing to listen, and you were proving to be one of the most engaged audiences he had entertained when it came to his garden.

Time is a fickle thing in the Dreaming, to be certain. Hours can pass by like minutes, or minutes can be days. It’s why he tends to keep appointments in the Waking to a minimum; he loses track of time far too easily, and often needs multiple reminders that he has an obligation in a realm not his own.

Never has Dream felt Time so keenly in the Dreaming as he does when he finally looks away from the path ahead and towards you, only for Time to seemingly come to a stop. The moon shines down upon you like an ethereal spotlight while you bend just slightly in order to fully study a daisy that was last seen in the Andromeda galaxy two hundred lightyears ago. Softly, so as not to ruin it, you gently run a finger along the edges of the velvety petals. Your smile as you do so is filled with so much kindness that Dream believes he could drown in it, not that he would mind in the slightest.

Dream had experienced love at first sight far too many times for his liking. A secret hopeless romantic, it was far too easy for him to immediately see the best in any potential romantic partner and offer himself up to them on a silver platter. Indeed, he had given lovers the finest jewels or entire worlds created just for them, and every single one had ended up spurning him in the end.

Perhaps that’s why this feels so different. This isn’t love at first sight, for he certainly had held no love in his heart for the strange intruder wandering wide-eyed around the ballroom. He’s had Time on his side, allowing him the chance to actually get to know you.

And after getting to know you, Dream wants. He wants to feel the gentleness of your touch on his skin, he wants your soft smile directed towards him. He wants to hear every thought that goes through your wondrous mind, he wants to know what you like and don’t like. He wants you, in every way that you’ll allow him to have.

Time finally restarts again, and Dream notices that you’re staring curiously at him. Distantly, a small part of him wonders how long you’ve been looking at him like that. A much larger part of him admires the color of your eyes.

“What is it? Are you okay?” you ask.

“Yes, I…” 

He really must stop staring at you, he knows that it’s already far past the point of politeness. Shaking his head, Dream looks back at the ball and tries to contain his emotions once more before speaking again. 

“I believe I promised you a story, yes?”

Dream didn’t earn the title of “Prince of Stories” for no reason. Still, it makes telling stories infinitely more enjoyable when the audience is interested in what he’s saying. You, however, are not just interested. You’re enraptured, hanging on to every word he has to say. This, by far, is his favorite type of person to tell a tale to. The fact that it’s you, the mysterious human who somehow snuck into his palace, makes it even better.

After his tale is finished, you ask him if it’s true. He can’t help but to demur, planting the seeds of doubt even though it’s very much true. After all, if he had wanted you to know that, he would have told you outright during the story.

“And what would you do,” Dream asks, suddenly feeling bold, “were a stranger to come up to you and offer you anything you ever wanted?”

“Well, I–I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

“On who the stranger is.”

Dream really wants to kiss you right now. By the way that you whisper, and how Dream catches you looking at his lips, he thinks that you feel the same.

He leans in even closer, nodding his head slightly towards you. “May I…?”

You nod, and Dream is so thankful that you do. He’s not sure that he could bear the rejection, not when you’ve gone and made him fall in love with you so effortlessly.

Dream has seen plenty of teenagers dreaming of their first kiss. Mere children on the cusp of adulthood, their emotions are always so palpable. The fear of messing up, of getting this wrong. The exuberance of finally getting to kiss the one they have not been able to stop thinking about. The burgeoning passion of young love, sealed, quite literally, with a kiss.

Right now, as your lips just begin to meet his, Dream feels much like those teenagers. He’s terrified that he’ll move too fast or make some wrong move to push you away, while at the same time, he’s thrilled that you want to kiss him just as much as he wants to kiss you. Underneath it all, the embers of something more promise to be fanned into flames once he actually kisses you.

Before Dream can actually do that, though, he feels your lips become less real, less firm, against his. He can only watch as your body fades from within his grasp and you disappear, presumably back to your Waking body. After you’re well and truly gone, with no sign of you falling back asleep and appearing in his embrace once more, Dream can only stare at the spot you once occupied.

When Dream comes out of his stupor, his head falls to his hands in disbelief, unable to believe his truly rotten luck. He remains in this position until the sky begins to grow light and he remembers that he has duties he must attend to, duties that include politely but firmly seeing all of his guests out of his realm.

As Dream nods his head at guests telling him how much they enjoyed the festivities and thanks others for coming and accepts quiet alliances re-formed by those who had believed the Dreaming well and truly gone, he’s quite proud of the fact that he’s somehow pulled himself together enough to not currently have a hurricane that reflects his emotional state sweeping through the Dreaming proper. It doesn’t matter that said hurricane will likely begin to rage the second the doors to the palace close and the hastily-constructed dam holding Dream’s feelings back breaks from the pressure. For now, he has it all under control.

At least, he has it under control up until he walks back into his throne room to find Desire lounging at the bottom of the stairs.

“Sibling,” Dream greets reluctantly, his patience wearing extremely thin. “Do you not have the desires of my guests to chase after and feed off of in your realm?”

“Don’t you worry, big brother, I’m on my way out.” They stand and stretch in a way reminiscent of how a cat stretches. “Great party, by the way. Why, you look really bummed out for somebody who just met the love of his life!”

It should not be nearly as surprising as it is that Dream’s sibling has once again inserted themself into his life, where they do not belong. Regardless, it is as surprising as it is rage-inducing. Between one blink and the next, Dream has Desire pinned against the wall with his hands wrapped around their neck. Desire simply laughs breathlessly.

“I should have known that you were behind that,” Dream spits.

“You don’t have to say it–” Desire’s sentence breaks off with a choking sound, courtesy of Dream squeezing even harder and resisting the urge to wring their neck. “–Like it’s a bad thing.”

“I told you that, were you to mess with me or mine again, I would not hesitate to spill family blood. Are you really so stupid as to disregard our last talk, so soon after we had it?”

Desire looks frightened, and they should be. Dream truly wants to kill right now, to unmake something with his bare hands and feel the carnage that he creates. “No, no, no, you have it all wrong!” they say. “I’m giving you a gift, sweet Dream. No strings attached, nothing you have to do besides say ‘thank you, my favorite sibling’ and accept it!”

“A gift.” Dream’s hands loosen around Desire’s neck, but still remain fixed in place.

“Yep!”

“And why should I trust you?”

“Because I really am sorry, Dream. Truly. I regret how I’ve treated you, especially over the past couple of centuries. You’re a pain in my ass–just as I’m a pain in yours, I’m sure–but you didn’t deserve what I did to you, and for that, I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t believe them, a fact that is plainly clear and causes Desire to roll their eyes. When they push back against Dream, he finally lowers his hands and takes a step back.

“We’ve been siblings for long enough, and you’ve felt my influence on—how many lovers is it? Tell me, did you feel any of that on your little dreamer last night?”

“No,” Dream admits.

“No, exactly. So when I was trying to figure out, ‘how can I say sorry to my beloved big brother and truly mean it,’ I thought it would be nice of me to find out if you had a true love, who said true love was, and then bring your true love to you! You can thank brother Destiny’s little Book for helping me there; he would have never allowed me to look and see if you had a true love if it weren’t for the Book telling him to do so.”

“What?”

This comes as quite the shock to Dream. It’s one thing for Desire to try something as outlandish as looking in Destiny’s Book; it’s another thing entirely for Destiny to let them do so. As Desire said, if the Book did not tell him to do something, then Destiny would not do that thing.

“Mhm,” Desire says, looking entirely too pleased at this situation. “The universe itself wanted me to give you this type of an apology.”

If Desire had used Destiny’s Book to find you, then that means that they know your name. “So, you know…”

“Your little lover’s name? Yes, I do. Why, did you not catch it?” Of course they know that Dream doesn’t know your name; it’s what Dream wants most right now, so naturally, Desire can sense it. “Were you two lovebirds too busy flirting with each other to remember to ask for names?”

“Tell me, Desire,” Dream snaps. He winces, feeling slightly guilty about letting his emotions get the best of him. Not that he’ll apologize, since it’s apparently Desire’s turn to do so.

“Sorry, I had to tease you a little bit.” 

Desire finally feels a modicum of empathy and tells Dream your full name, and a part of Dream that he wasn’t aware he was missing slots into place.

“Well, I suppose I should be off now. Lots of your party guests whose desires I have to chase after and feed off of. You know.” 

They grab the lapels of their opulent fur jacket and smooth out the wrinkles that their altercation with Dream put into their carefully-created ensemble. Dream will feel even more guilt about that tomorrow, he supposes. For now, you’re the only thing on his mind.

However, Dream would be remiss to not acknowledge the effort that they know Desire put into creating this apology. He can’t let his sibling go without having them know that he appreciates it, and so he calls after them. “Desire!”

They turn on their heels. “Yes?”

“Thank you. I…accept your apology.”

Desire grins brightly and nods, which is how Dream knows they’re thankful for this acceptance. They wave their fingers teasingly before continuing on their path out of Dream’s palace. “Have fun with your present,” they say over their shoulder and promptly disappear.

Dream is finally left alone in his throne room which, at the beginning of the night, was all that he wanted. Now, with the silence only 

He knows your name. Not only that, but he knows that you and he are meant to be together. It truly is the greatest gift that anybody could have given him, made more meaningful since it’s Desire who has done this.

There are a number of actual appointments on his docket that he must begrudgingly attend to, even though he wants nothing more than to rush to the Waking and find you. That would be neglectful of his realm, though, and Dream promised himself, back when he believed you to be a threat, that he would not allow you to ruin his realm. 

Now, he would gladly ruin his realm if you were to ask him, which is why he’s so determined to see to everything that must be completed. Though it all feels tedious, the tasks do eventually get completed. Dream leaves almost immediately after the last report, delivered by a young dream in the form of a talking dog, is escorted out of the palace.

(Matthew is extremely confused by his boss’s sudden change of attitude. Lucienne, who’s seen this plenty of times before, simply sighs and hopes that he knows what he’s doing this time.)

When Dream arrives outside of a small restaurant, evening has already fallen in the Waking. It’s been less than 24 hours since you first made your way into his palace, a little over 12 since you were jerked back to consciousness and away from him. Truly not long, in the grand scheme of things, but it’s felt like a lifetime to Dream.

Your attention is divided between one of your patrons, telling a story about a mishap at work and embellishing just slightly, and the drinking glasses you’re pulling from a tray and drying clean. Dream can’t help but watch you in your element for a moment, but Dream is not a patient man, and a moment is all that he can afford before he steps up to the bar and across from you.

A smile is already on your face before you turn to look at Dream, a smile that freezes in place when your eyes meet his. Your hands begin to shake, and the glass nearly slips from your grasp before you manage to firmly set it down on the wooden countertop.

The shock is understandable. After all, most dreamers do not expect to see someone in the Waking that they have previously only seen in their dreams. Dream just hopes that it’s a good shock that you’re feeling, and not the one that he fears.

Your smile turns into something smaller, softer, and those fears that Dream held evaporate when you greet him. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“It’s you. You’re real!” 

After having spent a few moments trying to figure out what to say next, Dream is amused that this was what you decided on. “Did you think I was not?”

“I don’t know. I mean, it was just a dream.”

“It is never ‘just a dream’.” And today, he is so glad that this statement is true.

You round the bar in order to be on the same side as Dream, and it takes every ounce of restraint in him to not immediately gather you up in his arms and sweep you back to the Dreaming.

“I believe we forgot to properly make each other’s acquaintance last night.”

Gently, he takes your hand and kisses the back of it. By the surprised whimper that gets caught in your throat, Dream assumes that courtship rituals have changed since the last time he attempted a relationship. Interesting, and something that he’ll be sure to ask you about later.

“I am Morpheus, Dream of the Endless. You may call me by either name, dearheart, for either shall sound sweet coming from your lips.”

Though he already knows your name now, he still allows you to introduce yourself to him, if only for the pleasure of getting to see the starstruck way you look at him when he says it as if to confirm that it truly is your name. If there were any residual worries about your passion for each other not translating to the waking, those are promptly wiped away when you throw your arms around Dream’s neck and pull him to you for a kiss. 

Truly, this is a new age that Dream is entirely unfamiliar with if kissing in public like this is acceptable. By the sounds of patrons’ applause, it appears that it is. What a strange new world Dream has found himself in. Not that he’s complaining. No, he’ll take victories as they come. As he brings a hand to your chin so that he can tilt your face and kiss you even deeper, he thinks that this is the greatest victory he’s ever had, for this victory has brought him you.

His own dream come true.

Desire of the Endless (again)

Desire’s enjoying their second glass of ambrosia, courtesy of the Greek pantheon, when they catch sight of Death, tight curls bouncing around her head, marching straight for them. They look both ways in the hope that there’s some other being who’s about to receive their sister’s wrath, but unfortunately, it looks as though they’re the target.

“Sister, how wonderful it is to see you tonight,” Desire greets. “Are you thirsty? Let me grab you a refreshment.”

Death simply narrows her eyes in suspicion. “You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

“What?” Desire holds a hand to their chest. “Me? What would make you say such a thing?”

“Mm, the fact that I’m your older sister and I know what you’re like when you’re up to something. You’ve had that look about you all night, the one that says that you’re just waiting for one of your plans to play out.” She nudges her sibling with her shoulder. “So? Out with it.”

“Fine. I’m in the middle of apologizing to our brother.”

“Oh gods,” Death bemoans.

“Don’t say it like that! This is a good thing!”

“When have you ever apologized to anybody for anything?”

“I apologize to Despair quite often.”

“Because she’s your twin.”

“And I’ll have you know, I also recently apologized to Unity Kincaid.” 

Now that gets Death’s attention, as it should. Desire, apologizing to one of their pawns? Death might need to go check and make sure that Hell hasn’t frozen over.

“Alright, then,” Death says. “You do know that apologizing usually involves going up to the other party and saying you’re sorry, right?”

“That comes later. First, Dream gets his apology gift.”

Desire gestures across the room, where you and Dream are currently involved in some sort of contentious stare-down after Dream had come to your aid when you were being forced to dance with anybody wanting a dance. Not the best start to a relationship Desire’s ever seen, but Dream’s always liked a lover that can challenge him.

Death doesn’t see it in the same way as Desire. All she sees is Dream talking to an unknown mortal, one that Desire brought here. Naturally, she gets the wrong idea.

“Oh Desire, you didn’t!” Death scolds. “Have you learned nothing from Alianora, Killala, Nada, or any of the others?”

“This isn’t like that!”

“Really?” Desire nods. “Okay, then tell me what it’s like.”

“I simply brought the mortal here for Dream to find! Those two are doing the rest.”

“And you swear that you have done no meddling to make them have any feelings for each other?”

“Yes, I swear.”

Death continues to glare at her younger sibling, which, okay, Desire supposes that’s fair. Doesn’t mean they have to enjoy the apprehension, though.

“Fine. I swear on my function, as well as the first circle, that I have not manipulated either Dream or the mortal.” 

Desire makes sure to swear on the most solemn and binding of things that an Endless can swear on, both so that Death will realize how serious they are and because they know that they’re not telling any sort of a lie. 

“All I did was find out whether Dream had a true love, which he does, and then I made sure that the mortal would have an invitation to tonight’s festivities.”

Death nods, satisfied. “How did you find that out?”

“Apparently, even the forces of the universe want Dream to get laid. Destiny let me look in his Book.”

Death lets out a sharp laugh. “Oh, he must have hated that!”

“He gave me exactly thirty seconds before snatching it back.” Desire scoffs. “Not as if I could have done anything to it, considering it’s literally chained to him.”

“It’s like his security blankie!”

A harsh, frankly disconcerting laugh echoes from nearby. While others would simply shrug it off, Death and Desire know exactly who that laugh belongs to. When Death finally fails at trying not to spy, she and Desire both see Dream’s shoulders shaking with laughter. Next to him, you’re sporting a pleased grin from the reaction you’ve been able to elicit. It’s quite the sight, and most try not to look so as not to incur the ire of the Dreamlord. His siblings, however, are exempt from that bit of common sense.

“Aw,” Death coos, her eyes shining as she watches the scene.

Desire knows exactly why their sister has such a reaction. Never, even in the early days of his courtship with Calliope, which was easily the “best” of his relationships, have any of the Endless ever seen Dream smile so freely and openly towards someone. They’ve especially never seen him let his guard down enough to laugh–which is probably a good thing, because the few times Desire’s heard his laugh, it’s left them feeling a little unsettled for a couple hours after.

“So this is simply part one of your apology?” Death asks.

“Yes. I truly am sorry for how I’ve treated him, especially over the last couple of centuries. Dream would have every right to not accept my apology, which is why I’m not just giving him a simple ‘I’m sorry’. Instead, I decided to shorten Dream’s path to finding true love, and both find his true love for him and bring said true love straight to him. A genius plan, truly.”

“You decided?”

Damn their oldest sister for being, well, an oldest sister. “Despair gave me the idea.”

“That sounds more like what I expected.”

Desire’s about to go on a diatribe about how this family only ever sees the worst in them (mainly for the fun of it, not because they actually care), when Death squeals, smacks Desire’s chest, grabs their arm and points back towards the two future lovebirds.

Dream is looking up at the ceiling to try and hide the fact that he’s blushing. His cheeks are a light shade of purple, and you look absolutely besotted by the sight.

“Oh, this is going so much better than I could have hoped,” Desire says as Dream levels his gaze with yours once again, the two of you seemingly challenging each other again on something. If the Book hadn’t told Desire that you and Dream were meant to be, this interaction would surely let them know.

“Shut up!” Death smacks Desire’s chest even more when Dream holds out his hand, which you take, before the two of you begin to sneak off like a couple of teenagers.

“What did I say?” Desire posits triumphantly. “Those two are doing all the work.”

“He’s going to be right pissed when he finds out, you know.”

Desire nods, because they do know. They’re expecting all sorts of threats of bodily harm and promises to break the most sacred rule of the Endless, all so that Desire can finally get their perceived comeuppance. If Desire’s being honest, they deserve that rage that Dream will direct towards them. They just hope that Dream will actually listen to what Desire has to say.

“He’ll get over it once I explain it to him,” Desire says.

“For your sake, I hope so. Won’t be too much of an apology if he doesn’t forgive you because he can’t see the validity of it.”

“He will.” Desire’s sure of it, and they grin at their sister. “Even if he doesn’t today, they can both thank me for my hard work at their wedding.”

Desire has enough tact to keep their triumphant “I told you so” to a smug grin when, barely a year later, they find themself back in the Dreaming for your and Dream’s wedding celebrations.

[weirdworldofwinnie]

Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part Three: Bad Timing

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only

Summary: It's that time of the month and some new innocent boisterous visitors to the house don't make it any easier, in addition to you still being muddled over Robert's behavior.

Word Count: ~5,128

Warnings: Descriptions of menstruation, period stereotypical gender roles, some angst, nightmares, infidelity hints, age gap, slight daddy kink (sorry not sorry)

Usual disclaimers apply, obviously NOT based on complete real life historical accuracy (especially this chapter as the children and their mother are my made-up characters), and this is essentially AU fantasy/fiction with Cillian as Oppenheimer.

Part One

Part Two

Tag list: @forgottenpeakywriter, @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple, @irenethewoman @uniquetacofun

If you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know.

It happened midmorning, the familiar feeling of a bloom of crimson staining your panties as you were in the process of pouring out a full bottle of wine in the sink since you decided to purge all bottles of it from the house. Robert wouldn't be that upset; he was not extremely fond of wine and you couldn't trust it to make you feel happily drunk, for it seemed to have the opposite affect and you refused to succumb to the negativity, plus being compared to Katherine didn't help matters.

You left the bottle in the sink for the time being and hurried off to the bathroom, uncomfortably aware of the leaking blood and you pulled down your skirt and panties, frantically searching for the box of sanitary napkins tucked under the sink and once you retrieved a fresh pair of underwear from the closet, you affixed one in and groaned at the incoming cramping beginning to pulsate through your lower abdomen. You were glad Robert was not around to witness, although he had always been supportive and understanding, men in general tended to be peculiar about menstruation and sometimes you couldn't blame them; it was an intimately awkward pain in the ass.

You popped in a painkiller pill from the medicine cabinet and went back to the kitchen sink, staring down at the vibrant red splash of wine; a parallel to what just began for you. So maybe last night had not been just you overreacting from alcohol after all... As you uncorked the second bottle, it then occurred to you that this was an awful waste and you stopped, setting the wine on the counter and sighing. Maybe keeping a few around wouldn't hurt, especially when company came over... You'd just have to practice self control, that's all.

Around midday (lunchtime for most people), Robert dropped by, but he certainly wasn't interested in eating and only came to retrieve his hat and a briefcase, casting a quick cautious smile your way as you were sitting at the kitchen table, intent with studying for your nursing degree. At least that took your mind off your bleeding and the cramps had numbed from the painkiller, making the day bearable.

But around two o'clock, you heard a loud unexpected knock at the front door and startled, pushing aside papers and an anatomy book to go greet whomever it could be.

The mother, Mrs. Thompson, whom you'd discussed babysitting her two young boys on the first day here was there with them standing on the front step. Her children Duncan and Douglas were close in age, around three and four respectively and nearly twins; strikingly similar in appearance with their matching towheaded short hair and big brown eyes set in cherub faces.

You hadn't expected them so soon and it must have shown on your face because she was instantly apologetic, speaking hurriedly.

"I'm sorry if this is an inconvenient time, but I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to watch my little boys for a few hours as we talked about?"

"Oh, sure, I did promise to after all," you replied courteously.

"I'd be appreciative. It's my tentative first half day on the job and they don't have the daycare in operation yet, so it's been rather hectic and of course my husband works at the lab, so he can't babysit."

"Of course. Now what time do you think you'll be able to come pick them up?"

"Six o'clock, but we usually eat at five for supper and they tend to get so cranky and peckish, so-"

"I'll feed them, don't worry," you offered and her eyebrows shot up.

"Are you sure? I'd be so grateful if you could. Oh, and if you tend to have trouble telling them apart, just remember this: Douglas is the older one with more vocabulary and about two inches taller."

She touched the tops of their heads and bent to peck each one's cheek quickly before straightening up, giving them directives.

"Boys, please behave for Mrs. Oppenheimer and Dougie, look after your brother. Mommy will come back soon, okay?"

They nodded distractedly and then bolted off into the house curiously, already taking in this new environment and starting to chase each other around the living room. Mrs. Thompson shrugged with an exhausted laugh.

"Well, as you can see they are the opposite of timid. They can entertain themselves for hours, but that's just the problem; they just give each other endless energy!"

"I'll do my best to keep them in line and safe," you told her assuredly before bidding goodbye and closing the door, taking a deep breath and moving to sit down on a chair in the lounge, where the boys had stopped racing and were quietly exploring the space, peeking on tiptoes at the bookshelves and out the windows. You watched them bemusedly, not accustomed to children very much and they almost reminded you humorously of puppies as they wandered about and began to chase each other, a game of tag it looked to be with Douglas tapping his little brother on the back and then racing off to the other side of the room with a laugh.

"Be careful," you called out as Duncan bolted after him, bumping into the furniture along the way. It took a few minutes for you to relax and adjust to their energy, and while they were busy tagging each other back and forth, you went to retrieve the papers and books from the kitchen to continue studying, but unfortunately your headache was coming back stronger with fatigue and you really had to use the bathroom, but worried if you left them unsupervised, would they get into mischief or accidentally ruin anything? Your head kept throbbing and so you leaned back to rest your eyes just for a moment... Until a shattering crush made you gasp and you saw a guilty faced Duncan standing at the foot of a smashed vase on the floor. His older brother quickly apologized and sat down to pick at the pieces, but you rushed to take over so he wouldn't hurt his hands on the sharp shards of pottery, telling both of them to go sit down now. They obeyed, clamoring up onto a chair and swinging their legs, pouting.

"Alright you two, this is your first warning. If you break something else, I'll have to tell your mother about it," you warned, but they only gave you doe eyed innocence that made you feel a little better. You plowed through for a couple hours, taking one bathroom break and then helping Duncan with his own potty break before there was a noise at the front door at four-thirty. The boys perked up and ran to it, presumably thinking it to be their mother even though she wasn't supposed to be back until six. You heard Robert's surprised voice and entered the hall just in time to see little Duncan run straight into his legs, bouncing off and appearing confused as he staggered backwards.

"Daddy?" he asked, craning his neck upward and face falling when he saw a different man.

"Oh dear, I certainly hope not," Robert chuckled with wide eyes as he gently maneuvered around the little boy and you walked to meet him with a smirk.

"Daddy, hmm?"

He nearly flushed and glanced away as you looked down, allowing Duncan and Douglas to go play outside in the yard for awhile.

"Just stay on the grass and by the window where I can see you both," you instructed firmly and Douglas nodded, taking Duncan's hand and dashing out the open door as you looked back to Robert, still smiling.

"I kind of like the sound of 'Daddy' for you."

His eyebrows twitched in perplexion and he held up a finger, speaking with uncertainty.

"I thought we agreed to hold off on raising any children - of our own that is - until later? Or have you changed tunes already?"

You reached for his tie, giving it a teasing tug and cocking your head, playing up to his confusion.

"That's not what I meant, darling. I think you do something to me when referred to as that... Don't you think daddy has a nice ring to it when spoken in my voice, though?"

He gave you a strange look, but smiled amicably.

"I, well, I suppose it's... interesting. You continue to surprise me and nourish my expanding knowledge of various feminine desires, so I thank you for that, my love." He walked away towards the living room and you trailed behind, unsure of quite what to think of that response.

"How long have they been here, the children?" Robert asked while setting his briefcase down to the floor and you causally glanced at your wristwatch.

"About a couple hours, Mrs. Thompson dropped them off at after two o'clock."

"Well, you must have your hands full," he remarked.

"It's been easy," you half lied, knowing that broken vase was very minor loss but you weren't completely sure of what you were doing, not being an expert babysitter, and you still had to make a somewhat kid friendly dinner.

He just nodded, walking over to the large window panes and staring out at the yard, where the boys were chasing each other around a pine tree and then Douglas crouched down, pretending to shoot at his brother with a little finger gun and Duncan copied him, dodging invisible bullets. You joined Robert's side and observed unsmiling as you considered how males have such an inherent tendency towards violence, even during mock play. It spoke volumes about the tragic times you were living in and how it all was filtered down to children.

"I'm sick of all the fighting, Robert," you commented sadly and he made no expression.

"We live in a volatile planet," he replied flatly and you pursed your lips, turning away.

"That doesn't mean I have to embrace it."

"You don't; it just takes you instead, a pacifist as prisoner."

"I'm about to start dinner, would you like to help for once?" you changed the subject with a snap and he clenched his jaw, following you to the kitchen where you fumbled with pots and pans, gathering ingredients for a simple chicken with mashed potatoes and side vegetables dinner. Robert pulled out the cans of peas and carrots from the cupboard and took his time with the can opener, muttering under his breath about explosive versus implosive and you side eyed him, asking him if everything was alright.

"Yes, fine. Only conversing with myself," he answered with a thin grin and you shrugged, beginning to cook and deciding to leave out ample amounts of spices on the chicken because of the children's likely tender taste buds.

The boys came in a few minutes later and you noticed dirt and dust all over Duncan's front and Douglas had filthy hands as well.

"How did you two get so dirty? I told you to stay on the grass," you exclaimed exasperatedly and they ignored this, distracted by the dinner preparation and you had to shoo them away from the stove.

"Can we have porridge?" Douglas asked hopefully and you stared, amazed at how children's thought processes work.

"No, that's for breakfast only. It's dinnertime."

"Cereal?" Duncan added hopefully, licking his upper lip and you shook your head, looking to Robert who wasn't paying much attention and fixated on spooning out the canned vegetables into a saucepan.

"Mac 'n cheese!" Duncan suddenly shouted, beginning to hop up and down while his brother added to this impromptu guessing game.

"Hotdogs? Momma makes us hotdogs, they're my favorite!" he exclaimed as you walked over and took their small arms, marching them out to the bathroom to clean up. You can't do much about Duncan's soiled shirt other than a wipe down, for there were no clothes in the house that would remotely fit him and you hoped his mother won't be upset.

When you came back to check on the cooking and having sent the boys back to the living room with a stack of blank papers to draw on with pens from Robert's study, you smell smoke - and not the usual odor from cigarettes. The pan of chicken is burning and Robert is nowhere in sight.

"Dammit!" you cried, furious at him for carelessly and bizarrely abandoning the hot stove, and you rushed to pour a cup of water on the pan, creating a loud hiss and puff of smoke and vapor. The chicken was too blackened for consumption, so you tossed it out bitterly before going to mash up the potatoes. You felt a tug on your skirt and you glanced down, seeing Douglas looking up at you, his tiny chubby hand clutching the hem of your skirt.

"I need to go potty," he declared, hopping from foot to foot and you sighed in frustration, taking his hand and leading him down the hall once again to the bathroom and making sure he could go by himself before returning back to the kitchen, where now the vegetables were becoming overcooked mush.

"Fuck," you muttered, hurriedly removing them and dumping forkfuls onto plates. You jumped at the sound of Robert behind you and you glared at him as he looked visibly distracted.

"Thanks for nothing! We almost had a kitchen fire because you went off to who-knows-where while I was cleaning the boys up in the bathroom," you chastised and he closed his eyes briefly, stressed and guilty.

"I'm sorry, I had to run through a calculation and I thought it would be fine to leave it for a minute as long as you were coming back," he explained and you scoffed, thinking that as no excuse.

"You should know better than to leave a stove unattended, even for a few moments. And you know, this is absurd. When are they coming to finish the kitchen? If we're going to host, we'll need a bigger space."

"Don't worry, they'll be working on it and I'll fix this." He moved to take the saucepan from you and ladle out the rest of the soggy veggies. You took a seat at the table, plunging your sore head into your palms just as Douglas came wandering back in, whining.

"I'm hunnngry, Mrs. Oppen-hemmer..."

"Oppen-heimer," Robert corrected over his shoulder with a smile and you rubbed your face, standing up.

"It'll be just a minute, how about you please have a seat to wait, alright? And where is your brother at?"

"Potty," Douglas replied and you gave Robert a glance.

"Can you go fetch him and leave the food to me?"

He gave a curt nod and left the room while you took the last chicken breast left and placed it in the pan to sizzle. Thankfully it didn't take too long and you were grateful your husband was dealing with one child while the other waited, watching you curiously and kept asking if he could have ketchup, presumably for the chicken.

"Just about ready?" Robert's voice made you turn to see him with Duncan toddling in, hanging onto the cuff of Robert's sleeve.

"Did he wash his hands?" you asked and Robert nodded again in affirmative, helping the kid onto a chair. You set out their plates and once everyone was seated, the boys dug in clumsily (Duncan was definitely the messier one and you tried to help him with cutting up the chicken), but in all considered, they were fairly civilized; their mother taught them well for their age.

Robert meanwhile was quiet, neglecting a smoke as he actually ate most of the food on his plate instead and you wondered if you should have young guests over more often if they influenced him to make a better impression of an appetite.

"So how do you all like it? Good?" you asked them towards the end of the meal.

"Yummy," Duncan said while Douglas vigorously nodded with a closed stuffed mouthful and Robert smirked, gently nudging your ankle under the table with his foot.

"It's delicious as is anything you put your culinary talents to is."

"Even though it burned initially and these vegetables are a tad overdone?"

"Perhaps we should try barbeques then," he suggested, the tip of his shoe suggestively tickling your stockings and you twitched in your chair, avoiding his piercing gaze.

"I'm glad you all are satisfied."

When the boys finished, you took their plates to wash out at the sink and Robert told them to go to the living room to play. He came close, grazing your shoulder and feeling around your skirt, but you flinched away from his touch and he frowned, taken aback.

"Not now," you murmured and he backed away, retreating from the kitchen as you finished the dishes, joining the others in the main room a while later, and immediately noticing Duncan posing in front of the fireplace with Robert's tobacco pipe sticking out from his mouth. You quickly swiped it out from him while your husband only laughed as he was seated on a chair in front of the boy, clearly entertained.

"That's for grown-ups only, young man," you chided seriously (with a scoff at Robert for encouraging this) and he giggled sheepishly before getting distracted by his older brother tackling him from behind. They wrestled on the rug before getting up and Duncan attempted a handstand which ended with him falling back down with a flump to his bottom. Douglas giggled and you could only shake your head in amusement as you sat down on the sofa, Robert abandoning his chair to join you with a sigh, tucking an arm around your body as he watched the boys, displaying a pondering expression.

"I don't recall Frank and I ever being that rambunctiously cheerful at their size," he remarked softly.

"Well, from what I've heard, you were a rather unique child."

"I was sickly often; these boys are as healthy as horses."

"Well, besides that. I doubt those two will be giving a formal presentation to the New York Mineralogical Club on geology at age twelve, although you never know."

"True, but look at them; they have such modes of sensory perception and imaginations that are lost on us adults. What if they could solve the most complex problems with simplicity?"

You leaned your head tiredly onto his shoulder as he rubbed your forearm, the cramps returning and you had the thought that you wouldn't entirely mind skipping periods for pregnancy... but child rearing full time was daunting and you weren't ready for it even though the mere thought of such breeding such domesticity with Robert made you a bit weepy... or maybe it was just the period swinging your hormonal emotions about. But there is still a bright flash of reality; wasn't this how modern life, the human experience, was meant to be and what awaited you in the future if you had Robert's children?

You glanced at him, trying to read his contemplative expression. Was he thinking similar family thoughts and reflective of his own childhood, or was he only pondering his work, scientific equations, the war, or even... Jean Tatlock? You hoped not on the latter. He could be difficult to read most times, on a different wavelength from the rest of humanity and you considered yourself one of the few people in his life that felt only a minor alienation from his brilliance and knew to leave him there in his mind, for it was his true home until he orbited back to the present with everyone else.

Duncan climbed up onto the sofa, yawning widely and his brother joined a second later, scooting to your side and his chestnut orbs looked up at you with a hint of longing.

"I miss Momma," he whispered and you glanced at the clock on the wall that showed a quarter to six.

"She'll be here soon," you told him comfortingly and sure enough, not five minutes past six o'clock, there was a rap at the door. Robert stood up as you urged Douglas off the sofa and went to awkwardly scoop up his sleepy tuckered out little brother in your arms, carrying him to the door. Mrs. Thompson was relieved and so were you as you handed her youngest son off into her arms (he was heavier than he looked!) and Douglas hugged her legs happily. She thankfully didn't seem to notice or care that they weren't spotlessly clean.

"You two are so gracious, I can't thank you enough."

"No need to, we are glad to be of assistance," Robert told her sincerely and as he invited her and husband for the soonest party, you were reminded of something.

"Hold on, I have something for you before you go," you announced to her and dashed off to the kitchen to snatch up the neck of a wine bottle off the counter from your earlier attempts of purging. You presented it to her as a gift, causing her to light up in surprised elation.

"Oh, this is a delight!"

"Take it as a token of friendship," you told her as Douglas pulled impatiently at her pant leg.

"Wanna go home," he moaned and she thanked you and Robert again before slinging Duncan over her shoulder and clutching the wine in her free hand.

"Goodnight," you and Robert both called out, and you gave Douglas a little wave as they walked down the pathway and to the road. You slowly closed the door and Robert turned to you, brushing a strand of hair back towards your ear and you almost thought he might lean in for a kiss, but then he moved away, occupying himself with lighting a cigarette instead.

Later that night when you both are laying awake in bed, he seemed to sense something was up as you were curled with your back to him, riding the waves of aching pain shooting through your lower abdomen and back, waiting for the second painkiller pill to kick in while feeling mildly depressed. His hand warily made contact with your shoulder and you stirred, rolling over to face his concern.

"What is so wrong? Is it because of those boys? It was very considerate of you, but we don't have to have them over again for awhile."

"No, not at all, it's not their fault. I've been dealing with my cycle that began this morning and it's been rather... difficult on top of whatever is happening with our relationship."

Realization dawned on him and he adjusted the sheets, cocooning you and him closer together.

"I suppose tonight isn't an appropriate night for any activity then?" he asked knowingly and you shook your head, but moved into his body, fingers needlingly grasping his night shirt and he put a hand to your hip, stroking your butt and crotch soothingly.

"Cramps?" he asked in a hushed voice and you only nodded, closing your eyes.

"Let me help," he offered and you shifted to allow his hands to massage into your lower stomach and thighs, making you squirm at the kneading pressure.

"Just let Daddy take care of you, alright?" he whispered huskily into your hair and the blush inflamed your cheeks, making you twist your neck to meet his seductive eyes.

"You understand it?"

He only shrugged, nonchalant.

"It's unusual and I feel a bit perverted for using such a term for romantic purposes, but I suppose there is psychology behind it."

You stayed quiet, letting him do rhythmic circles into your skin and if you didn't feel so raw and achy, you'd be wholly aroused to high heaven.

"Were there any calls today?" you asked curiously in a casual tone, testing if he'd tense, but his fingers remained steady and relaxed as they gently rubbed into the folds of your skin.

"There won't be any for a while," he answered and now you were the one ending up tense.

"A while? What does that mean?"

Robert exhaled heavily, blowing his warm smoky breath to your forehead.

"I can't guarantee there will never be further word during the duration of our stay here. Two, three years can feel like eternity and she may still love me."

"Then she'll just have to move on. You need to get your head straight and devote your energies here to work, to life with me, not back in Berkeley."

"I intend to and I will, but Jean knew me like no other and she sees me as an incomparable love. She hasn't seen any other man since me."

"That's not what you should ever tell your wife," you muttered bitterly, hating that he was making this sound as if this was all her fault.

"Every affection I have for various women is different. You happen to be my life partner, an equal for the long journey, and I would never replace that. But Jean doesn't have what I do and one never forgets their first brightest flame."

"Must be nice to have a list of lovers to pull from. I don't care what she thinks, I care about what you feel. What is Jean to you alone?"

He didn't answer for a long while and finally you tilted your head to gaze at him with a frown.

"Answer me, Robert."

He licked his lips and spoke very softly, fondly.

"She was a possibility and then I found you and my world was altered. I knew I had to marry you instead and I did, didn't I?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No, never. There is only one Aphrodite in my universe and that is you, my love. No one else compares."

You bit your lip, refusing to tell him about the information you were given from his own secretary yesterday. Besides, you had no solid proof of that note anymore, just hearsay that he could deny, and as much as it pained you to shove this issue under the rug, you had to in order to protect your husband.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"For...?"

"All the bad timing and for being a mess through it, I suppose."

"You can't control it."

"I know, but..."

"But what?" he asked pressingly.

"What's happening to us? It's this place, I think there is just something about living here, it feels..." you trailed off, unable to dress up your emotions with words that would be tailored enough to fit the frustrated mood.

"Los álamos, the poplars," he stated abruptly and you blinked.

"Okay, what of that?"

"On the banks of the Acheron river of the Underworld, they were resurrected pillars of death-"

"You're citing Greek mythology again, aren't you?" you interrupted and he suppressed a chuckle.

"Yes, I am. Do you suppose we are living in our own version of the underworld here at Los Alamos? We have departed from the living in some fraction, rowing down such a proverbial river to Hades, outcast by the great Zeus..." he trailed off, sounding nearly emotional at his own metaphors.

"I'm not sure about that, but I do know only you could take such natural beauty and see it doomed."

Robert was silent for a while and then he sat up, tossing the sheets off and swinging his legs out of bed and you raised eyebrows, watching as he walked out of the room to return a moment later with a journal in his hands and climb back into bed. You scooted down to rest your head in between his legs, letting him place the journal in his lap as he flipped it open, ruffling pages and you had a feeling of what he was perusing.

"I've never heard your poems read aloud before," you murmured with your eyes half shut and he shifted self consciously, hesitant.

"I'm an inferior poet, it really isn't meant or fit for oratory sharing..." he protested.

"If it's legible, read it," you ordered and he sighed, beginning to read quietly and slowly, savoring every word.

"It... It was evening when we came to the river with a low moon over the desert that we had lost in the mountains, forgotten, what with the cold and the sweating and the ranges barring the sky..."

His voice gradually lulled you to a sleepy state and as he read the last line - "We didn't look back at the mountains" - you dozed off to muddle through dreams that were of strange visions of white pine trees extending into skeletal fingers scratching at the cobalt sky, shadows dancing down darkened corners in hallways as you ran, running towards the haunting sounds of children crying, but you never could get there to comfort them... and then you wondered if you were not aching to get to them, but far away. Glancing down, you saw a pair of shoes but no feet filling them, and you realized were as empty as a ghost; no body propelling anything forward as though there was no sense in motion at all. You opened your mouth to scream, but of course there was no existing voice in your throat...

You abruptly woke up with a jolt sometime in the witching hour of the early morning tinged in a sticky sweat and saw that Robert was out cold on his back, his journal having slipped from his clutch to lay facedown on his stomach and you very carefully picked it up to place it on the bedside table before exiting to the bathroom to change out your pad and fill a hot water bottle, and then you grabbed a thin blanket and sat down in a chair, straddling the warm rubber in between your thighs and wrapping the blanket around your chilled frame, watching the moonlight track ever so slowly across the wood floor as a hour gradually ticked by. You lit a cigarette and took a long drag, ruminating on Robert's poem (which now you barely remembered from the lack of consciousness) but that one last line lingered on your tongue.

"We didn't look back at the mountains."

It seemed symbolic to how you felt about the past with his ex-lovers and wishing he would learn to face forward in the saddle with you and focus on the horizon instead of taking trips back into old forays. Or maybe you had to be the one to move on from all the doubts and let this go because surely a marriage couldn't survive on such strings of sad suspicion, of done summits. Besides, he had more important mountains to conquer here, whether this location be just an expansive landscape in the American Southwest originally belonging to the Indians, or a version of the infamous "Underworld" that was imitating Robert's love of such old folklore.

Hell, this was only the beginning.

Thanks for reading, this one was interesting to write especially with adding the children in and they may come back later on. Next chapter though will definitely be more smut focused ❤️

[fortunapre]

This part is definitely my favorite so far...

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𖧞 16+(suggestive), fluff, there’s definitely romance going on, fem-gender mentioned, Use of Y/n, swearing

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𖧞 oscar piastri x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𖧞 (scene iii) 2.3k i got carried away…

𝐀/𝐍𖧞 AHHHH ITS STARTING! thanks everybody who’s been interacting, following and reading! should i start a taglist? this is all new to me, but lemme tell ya, it’s def fun! anyways enjoy :)

Go back? (scene i) click here.

Go back? (scene ii) click here.

𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𖧞 Scene iii 𖧞 (𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧...?)

Tuesday, December 11th, 7:06 pm

“Seriously? What kind of question is that?” Oscar criticized me while moving his knight. “Come on mate, do better.”

It’s not my fault my mind went blank. How else am I supposed to react while playing chess? Of Course I'm putting all of my brain power into the game, because I have a burning desire to beat Oscar. Across from me, however, Oscar’s obviously beating me with ease. How was I supposed to know Oscar only wanted to play chess because apparently he’s a prodigy?

“What do you mean? My questions are perfectly fine, just answer.” I stared at the board in front of me, and the lack of pieces I've taken from Oscar. Then across from me, basically everything except my knights and king are lined up, having been taken by him. Ugh.

“Yeah, whatever,” I heard him mumble before he looked at me. I think this is the first time we’ve made eye contact since we started. “Um, I don’t listen to alot of music but something by The Neighborhood probably.”

Safe to say, I was baffled. My question was ‘What song would play in a movie about your life?’ I thought the question was pretty good, and was fully expecting some niche house music song to be his answer. But he’d surprised me. Yet again. Oscar’s surprised me a lot today actually. Maybe it’s just because I've also been paying more attention.

“Really? The Neighborhood? That’s my favor-” I began.

“Your favorite band.” He finished for me. “I know, I hear their music coming from your room practically every day.” He almost mumbled the last part.

“Um,” I wasn’t aware he was paying attention to anything I did, let alone my music taste. I was kind of shocked but decided to dwell on this new information later. Instead I said, “Ok, your turn.” I moved my king to the right.

Instead of firing questions like he was earlier, Oscar looked like he was really trying to think of a worthwhile question, given he probably only has a few left.

“Do you remember Christmas, two years ago? What happened…” He finally said. He looked up from the game, into my eyes looking for a reaction to his words.

My mind started whirring. Why would he ask that? What is he talking about? What happened two years ago?

We would have been 20, and I know that was the year the twins stayed at a friend's place instead of coming along. But… what could he possibly mean by that. What happened?

“Sorry?” I asked because maybe I’d miss-heard him.

“2 years ago. Christmas. In this cabin. Do. you. Remember?” He looked determined to get an answer from me. Like my answer mattered.

“I, uh, I don’t remember. What happened?” My eyebrows were scrunched together, genuinely confused by this.

As I answered, I watched Oscar’s worried expression slip away, replaced with relief. “Nothing important.” he said. He refused to meet my eyes as I watched him carefully, trying to make sense of his sudden switch-up.

“Ohh kayy,” I said slowly, “now my question.”

He nodded, watching me move. My pawn reached the end of the board, meaning I could trade it for a taken piece. I opted for my queen, obviously. I tried to move quickly, grabbing the plastic piece from next to him. I had to basically crawl over the chess board to reach my queen, moving awfully close to Oscar, himself. Once I replaced the piece, before moving back, I looked up to Oscar.

I smiled at him because of my new advantage in the game. But once I looked up, my smirk dropped and my breath hitched. I was a lot closer to his face than I thought. One small move and my lips could so easily touch his-

I quickly sat back down and folded my arms into my thick sweater, suddenly feeling awkward about the thoughts plaguing my mind. He smelled nice, like pine and spearmint.

Oscar cleared his throat and said, “Make this question better than the last.” He sort of laughed, low and awkward. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he joked. “Don’t be boring.”

I laughed awkwardly. Then, I thought about what I wanted to ask. What do I want to know about Oscar Piastri? As I thought, my eyes traveled over him, looking for inspiration. He was leaning back, now, on his arms. His sleeves were still rolled up and on his wrist was a small, braided bracelet. Orange and black: it must be from a teammate.

My eyes traveled to the rest of him. His hair was messy in the front, and darker than I remembered.

He started moving around, situating himself so that he was now laying on his side, head being held up by his hand. He was watching me, waiting for me to say something.

I finally thought of a question, and before I could properly think about what I was about to say, it slipped off my tongue.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

His eyes widened and he cleared his throat. He was definitely not expecting that. His free hand, that was fiddling with a chess piece, froze. He almost looked like he had stopped breathing as well.

“Because you’re annoying, that’s why.” He joked, looking down. “You terrorize me any chance you get. Obviously, that doesn’t make me very fond of you.” he went back to fiddling with the chess piece, refusing to meet my eyes, and I could tell his answer was true. But it wasn’t everything.

“Really?” I questioned.

“Yeah, really.”

“What else?” I asked again, wanting to hear his full opinion. I don’t know what made me suddenly interested in his view of me, but curiosity was burning in my mind.

“That’s two questions, you gotta wait for me to ask something…” He tried to argue, but I needed answers.

“What. Else.” I was determined. His eyes bore into mine, suddenly understanding that I wasn’t going to let him get away from answering.

He nodded and then said, “your voice. Something about it makes me want to stay away. Same with your eyes.” He went on. “I don’t know what it is, but they just make me feel….”

He didn’t finish that thought and instead moved on. “Another thing is your attitude. Your so fucking snarky. Some of the things you say and the things you do make me want to just lock you outside, so I don’t need to be near you.”

I didn’t know what to say. Honestly, I don’t know what I was expecting. He genuinely seemed to hate me, which shouldn’t be surprising. But I think something in me was hoping this mutual hatred could fizzle out after some clarity.

“Ok.” is all I said. “Your question.”

It didn't take him long at all to think of a question this time:

“Why do you hate me?” He used my same words against me. I should have expected he wanted answers as well, and I didn’t hold back.

“The way you act. You act all saint-like around others but when it’s just us, you patronize the hell out of me. I’ve tried to explain how annoying you really are to someone, but they never believe me, because to everybody else, you're Mr. Perfectly Fine.” I rambled, my voice slightly raising. “It's just SO tiring. And also,” Once I'd started, I couldn't stop. “Your stupid smirk you do, God, I want to just wipe it off! And your voice as well. When it gets all deep when you tease me and joke, I just…” I stopped myself and let out a long sigh.

There was silence as he took in everything I said.

A beat later he spoke. “Wow, Y/n, why don’t you tell me what you really think.” Oscar teased, breaking the silence. I glared at him, rage filling my eyes.

“You asked, I answered.” I said sharply. Suddenly, I wanted to go back to my room, as far away from him as possible. I rolled my eyes and stood up, about to leave. I was about to start walking away when Oscar got up and grabbed my arm, stopping me.

“Wait,” he started laughing. “Wait, Y/n. Now I know why you hate me so much! It's just that... I wasn’t aware of just how much. It’s a little funny.” He wasn’t taking anything serious, just grinned. “Come back,” he tried. “I’m bored, just finish the game.”

I looked at him. Really looked at him. His grip on my arm had loosened but it was still there, holding me. I went to pull my arm away, but his grip only tightened, as he pulled me closer.

His face was now closer than before. His smirk had dropped, and his eyes were looking into mine. I watched his eyes flicker to my lips, to my eyes, and then back to my lips.

He smelled like pine and spearmint. His scent filled the space between us, or lack thereof. We just held in place, inches apart. My heart was still beating from the anger I was feeling before. Except now, my heart was beating from something else entirely. I couldn’t tell you what happened in the next few seconds but the proximity between us plus the heat of his touch must have flipped something in me.

I tilted my head up slightly, my nose barely brushing against his. We held there for a bit, both of us unsure. But the longer we stayed close the more desire built and beat against my chest. I met his piercing gaze and then closed my eyes, moving a little closer. I was still hesitant, but Oscar didn’t hold back. He took my movement as an invitation and crashed his lips against mine.

I took my arm out of his grip and moved to grasp the front of his hoodie with both hands, pulling him closer. I had no idea why this was happening or why it was happening right after we just proclaimed our hatred for each other, but I couldn't care less. His hands moved to my hips, pulling us flush together. He titled his head to the side, deepening the kiss. His hands moved slowly under my sweater touching the skin of my hips.

My skin burned under his touch. I gained sudden confidence and put my hands in his hair, tugging at the ends. The kiss was heated and intense now. Our lips moved in sync, devouring each other like lovers who haven't felt each other in ages. As his hands felt me and gripped harder, I gasped. It gave him an opening to slip his tongue between my lips.

Knowing Oscar for as long as I have, I never would have imagined how good of a kisser he was. But why would I, imagining what Oscar’s lips feel like was never ever something I’d ever think of. At least it didn’t use to be.

Now, the feel of him is all that's on my mind. Our tongues danced around each other, discovering. His taste was intoxicating and I couldn't get enough. Oscar’s teeth dug into my bottom lip, pulling slightly, making me release a small breathy noise from the back of my throat. Oscar made a similar noise and started walking forward, moving me with him. My back hit the wall softly.

Oscar pushed his hips into me more than before, and his hands traveled higher up, grazing my ribcage with his knuckles. His touch was driving me insane. I brought my hands around his neck, pulling closer, if that was even possible.

He let out a low moan into my mouth and kissed me harder.

My mind was going hazy from the kiss. Our teeth and tongues clashed and fought, wanting to be as close as possible. I felt the heat of Oscar’s entire body on mine. Everywhere. Heat pooled in my lower stomach and lust filled my every thought.

Oscar held nothing back as he used a hand to grab my chin. He moved my head to the side, unlocking our lips. I felt cold at the loss of his lips and took in a deep breath. But not a second later, his lips attached to my neck, sucking under my jawline. The spots he kissed turned sensitive and warm. I wanted his lips everywhere. He traveled lower, sucking, licking and biting.

I was loving the attention he was giving my neck but was more desperate for his lips to be back on mine. I pulled him back to me and kissed him. Both of us were breathing heavily and our lips were becoming swollen.

I couldn’t stop, though. He felt so good.

I let out a moan into his mouth when I felt his lower body push against me. My hands went back to his hair, messing it up further.

Just then, the door opened and I heard our families walk in the door. Where we were positioned, they couldn’t spot us immediately.

“Guys, we're back!” I heard my father yell, and I pushed Oscar away from me, hard. He stumbled back, looking wild. His lips were red and his face was flushed. God, post-makeout Oscar was sexy, but that’s not what’s important right now.

The fact that I even know what a post-makeout Oscar looks like is insane.

What. The. Fuck just happened. Everything suddenly cleared and I felt immense confusion and embarrassment.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and walked away from Oscar, who looked dazed. I left him and went to my parents. Their hands were filled with brown paper bags of what looked like Christmas decorations.

They didn’t look at all like two people who just saw their daughter hardcore making out against the wall, thankfully. My face was burning so incredibly hot with embarrassment and simmering lust. I smoothed down my hair and put on a big smile.

“Hi!” I squeaked higher than normal. “You guys have fun?,” I asked, trying to sound normal.

“Yes, we did! Look at this honey, we found a small boutique with all of this cheap decor for the cabin. The Piastris bought just as much as we did so this place will be looking super festive in no time.” My mom had a huge smile on her face as she spoke. The twins walked in the door soon after, noses red front the cold.

“There was also this neat little bookstore I bet you would have enjoyed.” My father added.

I watched as my sister looked me up and down. She smiled a little while looking around, no doubt for evidence of something. She caught sight of Oscar and I’s unfinished chess game and then began searching intently around the room. She looked at me again and tilted her head. “Where’s Oscar?" she finally asked.

At her question, I looked behind me where I had left Oscar minutes before, but he had disappeared.

“I, um, I don’t know.” I answered truthfully.

“Here!” I heard from upstairs. He must have bolted up there earlier, because he looked normal again. His hair was fixed and he looked less tomato-y. “I’m right here, I was just in the bathroom.” He called, while jogging down the stairs. He caught my gaze and quickly looked away, putting on a smile for our parents.

“Have fun?” He asked the twins, ignoring me as best as he could. But I was just staring at him.

What have we done...

(scene iv) CLICK HERE

pinterest-piece 𖧞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: M6 in OHSHC

~ I know I missed my regular HCs yesterday, so have this random crossover that's been bouncing around my head since February as an extra! credit to @helshollowhalls for getting this idea off the ground ^.^ ~

-- the M6 and MC in this case are also students at Ouran High School. MC and Haruhi are friends because they are both the relatively normal ones in their friend group. --

Julian

Joined the host club before Haruhi hit it off with MC and invited them to stop by for a visit. He saw the costumes from a distance and assumed it was a theatre club

He still thinks it's a theatre club, just weirder and more flirtatious

He's into it. Attends all the events, takes expectations seriously, and gets so into his roles that he genuinely forgets himself

He likes Tamaki, he does, but it's also a little too much like looking into a mirror so he keeps his performances on the other side of the music room, closer to where MC or Haruhi are sitting ...

His all-leather look is so popular the club has multiple plague doctor themed events, giving Julian an entirely new frame of reference for what having a long list of patients can mean

Genuinely cares about every person that walks through the doors and goes above and beyond to make them smile

Has a dedicated fan club

Desperately wants to be let in on the twin's antics, but every time they include him in their pranks he ends up spoiling them because he can't keep a secret to save his life. Still gets dragged into them

Likes to dote on Honey

Has a personal goal of getting Mori to speak more than 2 sentences to him per day. His personal record is 1 1/2

Fully aware of the fact that Kyouya is the reason the club is functional and has a healthy respect for that

Asra

They ... never officially joined, actually. Everyone thinks they have but they haven't. They just like to show up for shits and gigles

And because MC is there and it's fun to watch them laugh

Does he have a lot of fans? Yes. Does he ever sit with/entertain them? No. Do they somehow believe he's still a host regardless? Yes. Kyouya can never get a non-blurry picture of him

Somehow always has a costume on theme though. Nobody knows where they got it. Renge denies giving him one

Renge also made a mad scramble to study up on gender theory after hearing him say that it was a social construct and goes out of her way to introduce herself with she/they pronouns now

Asra and the twins kept a wary distance from each other for the first week. Then they reached some kind of mysterious agreement in three minutes and have been hell on everyone since

Between the twins' total disregard for social appropriateness and Asra's magical talents, nobody is able to see where the next prank is coming from. (except Muriel. but he's special)

They looove to make Lucio and Tamaki look silly

He's got a soft spot for Mori and a surprisingly good friendship with Kyouya. He sees right through Honey's cute facade and doesn't really care to play into it

They and Honey do have a "naptime is sacred" agreement though

Keeps falling asleep in the piano. (not on. in. it terrifies Tamaki)

Nadia

She joined officially as part time assistant manager when she found out that MC was a regular customer and that Lucio was hosting unsupervised. She sees herself as responsible for both

Until she met Kyouya and realized that Lucio was perfectly under control. And that MC was just there to hang out

Stayed anyways because 1) MC, obviously, 2) Kyouya is her platonic soulmate, 3) she likes having input on the costumes, and 4) she gets to fluster girls as much as she wants to

She and Kyouya have regular sympathy sessions about their respective loud blondes. Kyouya is significantly fonder of his than Nadia is of hers

She is unexpectedly protective of Haruhi's friendship with MC and constantly facilitates more space for them to hang out

Honey is scared of her and doesn't know why. Then he saw her own martial prowess and realized he might have found someone on his level

Mori likes her because she doesn't try to change him

Tamaki desperately wants to impress her. She likes him more than she lets on, if only to let the entertainment drag out a little

She lets the twins get away with way more than anybody expects her to, mostly because Asra's usually involved and the end result is watching MC laugh until they cry

Regularly clashes with Renge over aesthetic visions

Muriel

Has never been interested in joining the club. Will never be interested in joining the club. In fact, he has gone out of his way to hide from the club

Until the hosts thought it would be fun to secretly follow MC when they took their lunch break out in the garden maze and spotted him. Once they did, it was all over

Muriel is not a host, but he has a standing invitation and regularly gets hunted down and dragged along by the twins

Asra doesn't stop them because he knows that Muriel actually gets along with Mori really well and considers him a potential friend

Muriel usually comes by when the club is closed to visitors, if only because of his effect on guests

They either get scared off by his intimidating aura or take it as a challenge. Neither of those things end well

Honey likes to climb on him when Mori isn't available

Part of the twins' agreement with Asra involves no messing with Muriel beyond dragging him in for visits. They find that boring and generally stay away

Muriel has 0 patience for Tamaki, who ends up slowly shriveling into a ghost every time his sparkles are met with a dull eyed stare

Kyouya doesn't mind Muriel being around as long as the club is closed. And because it makes Mori unusually talkative

Renge tried to critique his character once. She needed coffee after

Portia

She's not one of the hosts but she is partners in crime with Renge so she may as well be an official club member

Their novel reading skills combined makes them both ten times stronger and it's terrifying. Nadia won't stop them because she's best friends with Portia, and Kyouya's just ... done with it all

Besides, no harm in letting them run wild when Portia's presence bumps up attendance by 15% because she knows half the school

Oh, and because Portia's the one who really took care of the Lobelia girls

What, you think they just gave up and twirled away, satisfied with being nothing more than a mini-arc? That's what Haruhi and most of the hosts think, but ...

It's got nothing on the Legendary Lesbian Showdown that happened behind the school. That entire strip of greenery is saturated with triumphant girlboss cottagecore vibes

She and Tamaki have the sibling relationship he always craved because he reminds her of another tall, dramatic, moody guy

She likes the twins but they're so scared of her general competency that they just bring her occasional pastry offerings

Loves to dote on Honey, but won't hesitate to parent him either and it drives him up the wall. Mori secretly finds it hilarious

Regularly gives tea serving etiquette lessons to the hosts because it pains her to see them doing it wrong

Lucio

He overheard several of Tamaki's fangirls talking about a handsome blonde guy and mistakenly believed they were talking about him

Got so upset when they corrected him that he went to visit just to see who his apparent competition was

Saw the costumes and daily parties and felt the FOMO so hard that he waltzed right in and started trying to out-host Tamaki

Tamaki only sees Lucio's enthusiasm to be the best host ever and completely misses all the other red flags so he makes him an official member on the spot

Kyouya initially objects, until he notices the boost in visitors due to the never ending puzzle that is Lucio and Tamaki's daily interactions (locally referred to as the "Blonde-Off")

Mori stays way far away from him because he doesn't like being told what to do. Honey stays right up close because he wants a front seat for the chaos. This does occasionally cause tension

The twins have an absolute field day with him - messing up his hair, switching out his eyeliner, leaving banana peels everywhere

Asra only enables them further

The pranks on Tamaki ramp up too, because the Blonde-Off has to stay interesting and they can't give the boss too much of an advantage. That just wouldn't be right

Lucio and Renge have a love/hate relationship over his character because her criticisms are accurate and it helps and bothers him

[i-swore-lips-were-made-for-lies]

i need some advice.

so recently, i seem to have fallen in love with my best friend. i'm not completely sure if it's romantic or platonic, probably it's both. all i know is that i love her.

she's bisexual and i'm pansexual, we are both girls (though i have recently been questioning if i'm more of an nonbinary/transmasc-oriented gender).

she's recently been more physical with me; cuddling at our sleepovers (our other friends were present), holding hands/linking arms when we walk together, etc.

she's so fucking gorgeous and we always know how to make eachother laugh. i would love to be in a relationship with her (though i am on the aroace spectrum) (a qpr comes to mind as a possiblity), but i don't know if i should confess.

1, because i haven't figured this out 100% yet and i would like to know everything that i feel about this before i tell her

2, i have no clue if she reciprocates these feelings

3, i have an INTENSE fear of losing her and if she doesn't feel the same it's going to be awkward as fuck

and 4, she has a twin whom i am also best friends with. we never get time alone, unless said twin is hanging out with the other girl in our little circle (usually in the same area as us), so there is really never an opportunity to tell her how i feel without them hearing.

as far as i'm aware, i'm so fucking lovesick it's honestly a little embarrassing. (i made a playlist for when i'm thinking about her, i feel happier just thinking about her, my stomach gets all jumpy whenever she touches me, i think about her every night before i go to bed, etc.)

neither of us have ever been in a relationship or kissed anyone, so if we do end up dating, we would be eachothers firsts.

so um tumblr work your magic and give me relationship advice

[tartagluvr]

welcome back to the devildom

this part covers lesson 1-1 through 1-12. spoiler warnings for anything included in that span.

woooo tete actually finished a piece! and then everyone clapped. if you aren't aware, this piece is part of an ongoing series of me rewriting and expanding on scenes from nightbringer that i think lack emotional depth/just need more. explanation + masterlist!

warnings: no big ones here, just angst and emotional turmoil, i hate capital letters so, mc is gender neutral, no beta we die like my love for omswd after they added ten million chapters and dipped

word count: 4323

just a moment ago, your phone was in hand, text thread with a friend staring back at you. now, you lay haphazardly on some kind of uncomfortable wooden ground as vague and distant voices reach your ears.

as you blink away blurry hues of sleep, lord diavolo stands over your form. it takes a moment to adjust to your surroundings, quickly taking note that the lord is in his demon form. something must have happened- this is not an every day sight. shuffling to pull your tired body off the ground, you meet his gaze. "thank goodness," he speaks with a small smile. "you're awake."

as you open your mouth to speak, the lord cuts you off. 'you've been out cold this entire time. we were really beginning to worry." his words send a strange feeling up your spine, head turning past his wings to notice the brothers also in full demon form are here as well. lucifer looks displeased with whatever this situation is, mammon and leviathan both look you up and down, asmodeus just looks like…well, asmodeus, and the twins are stood together seeming uninterested. it does not go unmissed that satan appears to be not present. words are falling from mammon's lips, but you do not hear. your eyes continuously scan the room, scrambling to remember anything about how you got here and were knocked out.

"wait, mammon. they don't seem to know where they are." a gloved hand is placed against mammons tanned chest, stopping his approach. you know that's lucifer speaking, so why doesn't it sound like him? something is laced within his words that you don't think has ever made an appearance. the group seems to fall into rapidfire questions and concerns, belphegor asking if you're lost.

"lost?" you finally find your voice, though it is smaller than ever. "they smell good for a lost demon, i wonder if they are hiding some good food." beelzebub's voice is deeper. the look in his eyes as you meet them with your own hungrier than you've known.

"i-" "this facility is currently under construction, and under the direct authority of the demon king. what are your intentions of being here?" the lord has an authoritative twinge to his voice. this must be some kind of fucked up dream- or maybe solomon managed to poison you all once more with some stupid enchanted muffins. regardless, you struggle to find words as the seven demons all stare down at you. a beat of silence passes before your phone dings in your pocket, the sound nearly causing you to jump. instinctively it is pulled out, and an unregistered contact pops up to greet you.

'pleased to see you. shall i take you someplace you will be happy? somewhere that will bring you more joy than any other. a world you desire and where you will be desired.'

a short text is typed in response, demanding to know who they are. and as quickly as you had replied, more texts fly onto your screen.

'i clearly have you worried, don't i? well, there's no need to be. nothing remains hidden from me. i see everything. nevertheless, we shouldn't keep them waiting. you have received a second chance at a fated meeting. do you understand?'

a picture is sent at the end of the influx of messages, your beloved seven staring at you from the screen. your eyes look up from the image to them standing in front of you, then back down. 'i don't understand.'

'let me rephrase then. the people you meet here, you are fated to form a deep bond with. i shant tell you my name. just know that you will be entering your own past. or the time of someone you don't know. but never fear, they will always be there waiting for you.'

no more messages come in. as you look up from your phone once more, you meet the lord's eyes and feel yourself freeze up. "i apologize my lord, my friend sent me an address to meet them but it appears i got it wrong." as strongly as you try to mask your fear in a bold face lie, it wafts off you in every direction. the lord seems to ponder your words before nodding slowly, his arms falling to his sides. "i don't believe we have ever met before, which is strange as i know every demon in the devildom- nevertheless, i am diavolo, the next in line to rule the devildom…" he goes off into an all too familiar tangent of each demon brother and their respective sin. "there is one more brother, but he isn't-" a loud noise cuts his speech off, startling you. it seems to have come from the halls leading to this room, which you are now beginning to recognize as the council room of RAD. "speak of the devil…" as bewildering as this whole exchange is, you have to stifle a laugh at belphegor's joke.

satan himself bursts forward into the bones of a room, a look of true rage on his face. a heavy sigh falls from lucifers lips at this. "asmodeus, you did make sure those chains were tight enough, didn't you?" at his words a scowl crosses your features. "why would he be chained up?" its a quiet comment to yourself more than anything else, but diavolo hears.

"that demon is satan, child. the avatar of wrath himself. when i stated that lucifer had another brother, he is who i was referencing." he pauses, turning to glance at satan as if waiting for him to pounce before turning back. "they have all just arrived to the devildom." you nod as if any of his words even make sense. it really is starting to feel like some fucked up nightmare of being thrown into the past, right when the brothers lost the great celestial war and fell. something about this dream just feels so real. "avatar of wrath. i understand." your head is still nodding, eyes trained on satan behind diavolo as lucifer and mammon attempt to wrangle him into submission. this moment is so personal, so raw, that you consider looking away. as if this isn't something satan would want you to see.

with you lost in thought, satan manages to escape his older brothers grips and launches at belphegor. beelzebub is body blocking him in an instant, shielding the youngest. "thanks, beel." belphegor grunts out a praise to his twin while catching his breath. the force had nearly knocked you to the ground just from the sheer mass right next to you, beelzebub turning to you now. "are you okay too? sorry about that." rapidly your head nods with wide eyes. the tall demon sighs in relief, a smile on his face. "i'm glad. can't have a random demon pulled into our mess of a family."

his words were out of kindness- yet the effect was opposite. 'random demon' pulls at your heart. after all, you are anything but random to this group. you'll wake up eventually though, that thought comforting you. maybe you and the brothers will all laugh about this when you tell them.

"i've just about had it with all of you, this world, everything." satans low growl of a voice bounces off all the scaffolding. his hands raise from his sides as he thrashes free from lucifer's hold, eyes glowing a bright emerald. "i, avatar of wrath, will obliterate every last one of you." a breath hitches in your throat. you've seen satans outbursts, his daily battle with containing the wrath that lives in him. you know he is more than his anger, and that at the end of the day- he didn't ask for any of this. subconsciously you step forward, at the same time that he does. "oh man, we're all dead now!"

your chest suddenly heaves forward, a warm and bright feeling overtaking your entire body. the view from your eyes begins to sharpen, getting clearer and clearer as your eyes meet those dark emerald ones. a single word falls from your lips like instinct. "stay."

the hairs on your neck stand on edge, skin tingling and bubbling with something trying to break out. as if someone inside of you were thrashing about, throwing themselves at your bones to break free. until this moment, you have never felt controlled by your power rather than the other way around. in one single blink, not only is satan dropped from your view and against the floor, but so are all six other brothers. a soft whimper falls into the air as you come down, the faint taste of iron on your tongue. "sorry, so sorry." you stumble over an apology looking at the sight in front of you, mammon beginning to go off on what you've done.

the lord laughing silences him immediately.

"is this- this is funny to you, lord?" lucifer pushes up off the ground, turning to glare at you with his arms crossed roughly. "you. what the hell have you done?" your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. because truly, you don't know what just happened. maybe the dream version of you has incredulous power in this way? diavolo's laughter dies down as he speaks. "well (your name), i sure have never met a demon like you. honestly, that was quite the riot."

"yo, what was so funny about that?" mammon grunts through his words as he rises too, one hand rubbing at his cheek from the impact. an apologetic smile is sent in his direction, but he does not seem to accept it.

"something about this meeting feels fated. after all, i myself can't personally watch over you lot." diavolo turns in a circle, surveying the battered up bunch standing around. his eyes turn back to you. "do you think you can handle them the way you just did, for a longer period of time?"

your head tilts to the side. "you mean, babysit them for you…?" the room fills with diavolo's laughter once more. he is nearly folded over into himself, amused greatly at your words. "these demons are new, as you know already. they fought in the great celestial war, and ended up here. things have become very…chaotic, because of this, and i need eyes on them at all times."

the lords speech ends, as if you are supposed to understand what he is insinuating. you don't.

"let me try that again," his arms cross against his chest with a smile. "until things settle down in the devildom, i'd like to ask you to attend to them. become their servant, show them around, the works." belphegor makes some offhanded comment in the back about how they don't need a 'babysitter with freakish powers', which the lord ignores as he bores holes into you with his gaze. waiting for your reply, knowing the answer is already yes. after all, he is the lord of the devildom at the moment. "diavolo, we not need for an attendant. just because we used to be angels doesn't mean you must treat us like children." lucifer all but pleads with him, to no avail. he doesn't break his gaze from you for even a second, not even blinking as he waits.

"i accept."

that would be how you find yourself holding up satan's feet as beelzebub carries him, the rest of the brothers and the lord all in tow behind. after all the commotion and complaints had died down, diavolo insisted you walk with them to the brother's new living situation. you'll need to be familiar with it of course for the job, but you also already know it like the back of your hand. these weird dream versions of the demons don't need to know that. the group makes it back in due time, satan still absolutely out cold from whatever insane magic burst from you earlier. the lord has all of you exchange contact information at the gates of the house of lamentation, giving you all the proper applications and such to reach him directly.

mammon falters at the gates, an expression you know as fear on his face. "hey, its not that bad." you give him a small shrug, his head turning to look at you. diavolo also turns to look at you, confusion on his features before you realize your mistake and rush to correct it. " i mean, looking at it from here, it doesn't look all too bad." he seems to take this answer and move on, you two standing as mammon finally makes his way inside and up towards the house. "you won't be staying with them, (your name)." you stand up a bit straighter at this, mind filling with worry on where the hell to go if not here. 'i, um. don't really have anywhere…"

the lord clasps a hand on your shoulder, leaning down closer to your height with his head tilted. "you don't have a place? no friends you stay with?" he sighs, shaking his head. "i won't pry. you seem young, and when i was younger i used to find myself in runaway situations too. but either way, the house of lamentation is the one place they will have all to themselves so i apologize."

your head nods as he speaks softly, feeling comfortable finally in his presence. "i arranged accommodations for you already, so you musn't worry child."

before you can reply, an all too familiar voice calls out from behind you two. "my goodness. there you are, (your name). i was wondering where you disappeared off to. i was worried, you know!" in tandem, you and the lord both whip around to see solomon walking up with a pained smile on his lips. there also appears to be sweat on his brow- as if he had been running around like crazy. "that was fast, solomon. i wasn't expecting you here yet." the lord's warm hand slides off your shoulder, as he extends it to the sorcerer with a shake. "and you mean to tell me you already know (your name)?"

seeing solomon sends a wave of relief over your entire body. sometime over a year ago now, you two had fiddled around with some dream spells to be able to link up and dream together. so any time you see his face in your dreams- he actually is there. it reassures you in this instance to know he is experiencing this nightmare too, but also that out of anyone in the world he is the one who can force wake you.

"i know them very well, actually. it just so happens that they are my apprentice." the tall sorcerer speaks with a smile, one hand to his chin. your eyes haven't left him since he appeared, though in contrast he has yet to look at you. "isn't that right?" he speaks to you. while still looking at diavolo.

"yes," the words finally find you. "its true, my lord." diavolo is shocked at this revelation, but accepts it as fact with a nod of his head before turning back to solomon. his hands wave in the air for a moment.

"i know you are quite accustomed to outlandish things but…a demon as an apprentice, that is a new for even you." solomon gives a soft laugh at this, slender pale hands moving to rest on his hips. "they're my top student, actually…" you tune out the conversation as they go on and on. staring straight holes through solomon, trying to will him to look at you. to acknowledge how crazy all of this is. to tell you to wake up. you're brought back down into your body when diavolo touches your shoulder once more, bidding you a farewell so he may return to the castle. "i'll be seeing you soon, and i cannot thank you enough for taking on the task at hand." with that, he is gone. you and the tall sorcerer are left in a heavy silence.

he breaks the tension first. "...i'm guessing you have quite the list of questions?"

"you're solomon." you state it as a fact, and his body finally turns so he can meet your eyes. a nod, and then, "yes, i am. and you're (your name), my human friend. not my demon apprentice." he pauses, a hand coming up to reach for your own. though you take a step back out of his grasp before he can touch you, a strange emotion flashing on his face. "i don't like this dream. can you wake me up?"

his hand hangs in the air for a moment, before falling along with his expression.

"no, no i can't." the smile on his face is full of pity, and a deep sense of dread builds up in your core. "this one isn't a dream, i'm afraid. can i walk you home…? and then explain it all, of course." you feet feel as if they were floating above the ground, your body just a ghost stood here. this has to be a dream, but...you know that if solomon is here and can't wake you…

no words come out of your mouth. instead you nod robotically, making no move to walk. solomon sighs and drops his head, hiding his face before reaching forward to grab your arm. the sorcerer practically walks you like a child all the way through the devildom to the housing arrangements, your form rigid and silent. a single puff of wind from his lips could knock you over.

"we're here," his voice is soft and careful as he leads you up and into the building. your eyes gloss over a plaque stating it as 'cocytus hall', but you show no emotion at this. he all but sets you down onto an awkwardly large bed before his hands are off of you. standing back now, he sighs again and shakes his head. "i'm so…sorry, (your name). let me explain." he kneels down in front of you on the bed edge, gently taking your hands in his.

there wasn't really an explanation you had thought of that matched any of what he tells you. not even in your wildest dreams had you ever imagined a scenario like this, yet here you are. the beloved human jewel of the devildom, sent back hundreds of years in the past for God knows why. you learn how solomon followed you here, chasing you through time to cushion the fall and see you make it out alive. there is a pause hanging in the air as he dares to ask how you feel. truthfully, you don't know how you feel. its difficult enough to wrap your head around your time in the devildom as is- but this? this...absolute nightmare hand crafted specifically for you? a warm slice of anger burns your chest, but that feeling begins to evolve into pure rage as he keeps careful watch of your trembling form. "i'm angry," you tell him. "i'm quite angry."

solomon tells you how barbatos helped him dive head first into this concrete slab of a past. "it wasn't easy," he notes with a tut, "though i knew more than anyone that it could only be me following you." the lord of time, essentially father time himself, sent solomon into a potential death trap after you. instead of maybe…pulling you from the past? doing anything at all to get you back? "i don't think i understand, there was nothing more to be done?" your empty eyes look up to his, a matching look in them. the gentle hold of your hands tightens slightly as solomon holds himself at bay.

"any of the brothers from your time coming here would spell trouble, paradoxically so. believe me, all of them would have jumped to follow you if it weren't there own past." his voice is soft, though his words are firm. this is fact to him, and you are to be convinced. you still have yet to be as a retort quickly flies from your lips. "is this not your past as well?"

the sorcerer chooses silence. you take that as answer enough.

"...regardless," you begin again with a sigh, "can't i just get myself out of here? i still have the ring of light." one hand snakes out of solomons hold to reach into your pant pocket, producing the small heirloom item. it is twirled between your fingers for a moment. "this has got to be helpful in some way, right?" your hand extends to hold the ring infront of solomons face. he ponders this for a while, seemingly deep in thought. his head quirks to the side, brow furrowed. "if you remember, you were given this ring to better control and contain your power." his fingers reach up, plucking the ring from you to examine it for damage. "as we are in the long gone past now, your power...well, lets just say it is a lot weaker. your pacts don't exist here, at least not for hundreds of years." these words are what finally knock the harsh truth of it all into you. this isn't just the past, it is someone elses past. you do not exist, not even the concept of you. you are a mere speck of dust floating by in the wind.

you have never felt so small. so insignificant and worth absolutely nothing. your mind begins to buzz and jump from thought to thought of how your beloved demons don't care for you. you're nothing but an afterthought for them to send solomon after when you get too out of control.

"no," you speak outloud to yourself, shaking the thoughts away physically. a painful chill runs up your neck. "explain the power thing to me."

without missing a beat, solomon gives you a slow and thorough explanation of your power. reminding you of how it was in your actual time, and explaining why it is lesser here. there is obviously still a very fine line connecting you to them, shown earlier when you were able to command all seven brothers with one word. thinking back on it, a grimace crosses your face as you realize it could've been avoided had you only added the name 'satan' in front.

"so...do i understand correctly that i have to reforge- is that even the right word? since this is the past-" you stop yourself with a sigh, head dropping. "i have to reforge all of my pacts to even have a sliver of a chance at getting home?" his face is mostly blank as you scan it, trying to get a read on how he really feels about all of this. then, he nods and his lips part to speak.

"great." your own voice cuts him off. before solomon has a chance to react, you're crying. there is a strange empty look on your face, yet tears run harsh trails down your cheeks.

"hey, hey- i'm sorry," solomon slides the ring back into your pocket, snaking his hands up your arms to rub soft circles on the exposed skin. "i'm so sorry." pulling you closer, one hand rubs soothingly at your hair whilst the other keeps you firm against his chest. it scares solomon how emotionless you look, how dull your usually sparkling eyes seem. especially with the added contrast of tears and reddened skin.

there was of course a lot of talk before he was sent here about how you might react to all of this. lucifer was beside himself imagining how vulnerable you would be without their care. mammon felt like his world was ending thinking about you being alone, and unable to call him for help. there was simply no protecting you with this. leviathan and asmodeus had actually shared similar mindsets, just hoping you wouldn't be so frightened or worse- hurt, by their past selves. beelzebub for once in his entire existence wasn't hungry. his stomach hurt too bad thinking about you never returning. and the youngest, belphegor, hadn't expressed concerns at least outwardly. he waited until the moment him and solomon were alone, all but threatening the sorcerer to bring you back unharmed. promising a war against humanity that could rival the great celestial one if anything irreversible happened to you.

solomon had just not expected the strong and brave human he grew so fond of to cry.

still he holds you, even long after you calm down. your face is against his chest, one of his hands soothing your hair as the other holds you around your waist tightly. "i' want to go home." your voice is barely a whisper, muffled against his cape. he hears it anyways, hushing you softly. "i know, (your name). but," he unravels from around you, the loss of warmth causing a sadness in you as he tilts your chin up to meet his eyes. "i'm in this, too. and i wouldn't have come unprepared."

"i don't know how i can face them everyday and not falter. i mean, they just fell." he frowns lightly as you talk, thumb absentmindedly rubbing against your chin. "you will falter, i can't lie and say you will be fine. but as i said, i'm right here with you. okay?"

his words should be comforting, yet they rather make you more angry and emotional. solomon shouldn't have been dragged into this, given the role of saving you. there had to have been other things to do before it got to this point. but nevertheless, he is here now and it has already happened. you tell yourself that you should be thankful even a single person cared enough to break time just for the idea of your safety. with a small forced smile, you nod at him. "thank you for following me, solomon. if anyone can get out of this shit, its you." it doesn't go unnoticed the way his own smile falters for a moment.

next piece, 1-17 through 1-18

<3 back to masterlist

[theoretical-tactician]

Hey! So, I said I might make a list of Fire Emblem modding links, so here it is! Before anything, be sure you have a hacked 3DS so you can mod your games. You can load mods directly onto a hacked 3DS OR you can use a hacked 3DS to dump your games and play them on an emulator.

If you haven't hacked your 3DS yet, follow this guide to do so! It's easy and super safe!

As for if you want to emulate, you can download the citra emulator here. Just be aware that the emulator can be demanding and not all games function great (all the Fire Emblem games are functional, though).

Now, as for game modding, here are a few of my favorite things to use as well as some interesting mods others enjoy. Feel free to share mods you enjoy and I'll add them to this list.

General Modding

Paragon - This in and of itself is not a mod. However, if you're interested in dipping your toes in trying to create your own mods, this is a good starting point! This tool provides you with a friendly user interface to mess with the code of the game and create your own custom mods (don't worry, you don't need to know how to code).

Fire Emblem Awakening

Unofficial Gay Awakening - As the name says it adds gay supports in Awakening. I can't really add anything here.

Project Thabes - This is an overhaul of Awakening, akin to a sort of remix. The idea is fixing up some issues with story, rebalancing, and remixing maps. Definitely an interesting project to check out if you want a fresh experience with the game.

Awakening HD - This is just mod to upscale textures. Really meant for people playing the game on citra, not hardware.

Twin Morgans - Y'know. If you want double the Morgan. :)

Reverse Recruitment Order - Excluding Chrom, Robin, and Lucina, all units are obtained in reverse order. Something fun to mix up your game.

Fates Stances - If you came to really love the stance system in Fates, good news! This mod implements the stance system into Awakening. Yeah, it's less broken, but way more fun.

Gender-Lock Removal - You want male pegasus knights and female barbarians? Here they are. Need I say more?

Fire Emblem Fates

Unofficial Gay Fates - It's as the name says: a mod to add gay supports to Fates. Though it's not just gay, it also generally adds additional supports between characters.

Ignis - This is a Fates randomizer that allows you to customize your own experience. This can randomize recruitment order, chest/village items, skills, classes, stats, and so on. I've been using this for years, so I can vouch for its fun and stability.

Fates HD - Just a mod to upscale textures. Meant for people playing the game on citra, not hardware.

Before Fates - This mod is currently a work in progress, but it's meant to expand the backstory in Fates. While it's incomplete, it's definitely worth keeping an eye on.

Fates Retranslation+ - If you kinda hate the translation of Fates, good news! This mod retranslates the entire game to better match the original Japanese version. It also adds some minor patches, but the idea of this mod is to fix the English translation.

Princess Personals - Legendary weapons for the princesses. Because they earned it. :)

Non-Binary Corrin - For all my non-binary pals out there, someone made a mod to make all references to Corrin gender-neutral. (Note: the mod creator is remaking the mod due to some issues.)

Playable Lilith - Do you love Lilith? Sad that she's stuck being killed off in routes and is otherwise unplayable? Well, this mod adds her as a playable character. Do it for her.

Face-Lift - This mod does some edits to characters to update things like skin tones and eye colors to look more natural/better match parents (like giving Benny darker skin rather than grey skin). It has a regular version for hardware and HD version for citra users who like having the HD mod.

Fire Emblem Echoes

Route Swap - Just a funky little mod that swaps the two parties. So now Celica and crew are on Alm's journey and vice versa.

Installing Mods

3DS

Assuming your 3DS is hacked, you should be using luma to mod games. Once you have your mod files, installing them is extremely easy. Load up your SD card and go into luma > titles and create a folder with the corresponding title id to your game.

Once you have a folder for your game, drop the mod files within (remember to unzip them, and they should be a romfs folder). If done correctly, it should look something like this.

There's one final step before you run your modded game, though! Reinsert your SD card in your 3DS and then hold SELECT while powering the console on. The luma config menu should come up. Select "Enable game patching" then press START to save.

You only ever have to do this luma step once. So once you've enable game patching, you can freely switch out mods on your 3DS and they'll run automatically. If you want to disable mods, either delete them from your SD card or disable game patching.

Citra

Just like with hardware, modding games on citra is extremely easy. All you have to do is open citra, right click the game you want to mod, and click "Open Mods Location" from the menu like below.

This will create/open a mod folder for the title you selected. Just like on the 3DS, all you have to do is insert your mod folder here. It should be inside a romfs folder like below.

If you did everything correctly, then your mods should take effect when you next run your game on citra.

[mushroomnoodles]

FAQ

this is just for some of the more frequently asked questions. i am gonna try to put things bluntly here to try and minimize any confusion, especially if folks are using a translator. tw for mentions of death and genitalia

is simon/betty trans?

up to you on simon. i don't have a preference. but most of my bettys are AMAB trans women, some have bottom surgery and some don't. of course, i have some personal headcanons on some of them, but again, nothing is "op canon" in that regard.

how did simon give birth to morri?

well, if you hc him as trans, that makes things easier, but either way he just gave birth to morrigan how a regular human being would.

if you hc him as cis, then simon would have been given the full internal AFAB equipment upon impregnation by GOLBetty- uterus, ovaries, etc- with the external equipment coming in courtesy of morrigan around month.. 6-7? that's right, i took his penis privileges. sorry king.

what gender is morrigan?

morrigan is nonbinary and intersex, and uses any pronouns. morrigan chose to develop into a human body rather than a more cosmic-entity type one as to not scare simon.

does morri have a voiceclaim?

sure does! it's shadow milk cookie from cookie run kingdom! here's a vid.

is GOLBetty alive/did she reincarnate?

i'm aware GOLBetty probably did reincarnate at the end of F+C s1. buuuuut my GOLBetty never unfused. she simply went back to sleep after impregnating simon. if someone's interested in me going into detail about how i interpretate my GOLBetty and how she thinks/functions i'll probably do that.

can GOLBetty-

when/does simon die?

he lives for about 250 years after giving birth to morrigan. the cosmic energy radiating through his body ran out, and he essentially instantly died as his organs stopped working. like someone entered /kill simon_petrikov into the world console. from there he either eventually reincarnates, or morrigan finds some way to replace him or raise him from the dead.

morrigan was the physical age of 13 when simon passed, by the way. the older morrigan gets, the slower they age.

does morri ever meet their mom?

yes, they do. by the time they do meet her, however, GOLBetty is in a deep, deep sleep.

morrigan has a complicated relationship with her, especially as, due to simon's stories of her as a human, they see her in this overglorified light. they also consider GOLBetty to kind of internally be two separate entities- GOLB and betty, rather than a fusion of the two made into something slightly different.

do you do fpreg?

nope. fpreg actually is really uncomfortable for me for some reason lol, like.. INTENSELY uncomfortable. activate fight or flight mode uncomfortable. no idea why, i know it's silly, but i can't interact with it, can't draw it, won't draw it.

side note, i'm not gonna draw simon pregnant with any more than twins at one time, barring creaturewizards au. just out of my comfort zone is all.

[angelkitty54]

Gasp! What's this? Even more Sonic fankid design even tho I have like half a dozen AUs already!? IDK man, I just like designing characters I guess! :P

Anyways, I learned some facts about hedgehogs recently and apparently during their mating season hedgehogs often take on several mates at a time, and it's not uncommon for a single litter of hoglets to have different fathers. Thus this AU spawned into being! Basically, after an odd out of season heat, Sonic realises his eggo is preggo and has to backtrack to figure who the potential fathers/mothers might be.

Also should mention that Sonadow twins Tempo and Harmony, are also part of this litter too. Look, I drew five kids and ran out of steam. If ya can't tell by the lack of shading, I just wanted this drawing to be done. I'll try to get round to drawing them later, maybe when I don't have four other half-finished pieces to be doing...

Anyways about the kids!

Amber the Echidna: Contrary to what ya might be thinking, Knuckles is not her dad. She came as a surprise to everyone as Sonic knew for a fact he hadn't been with Knuckles at the time, and didn't know of any other echidnas. They would later learn that she was actually brought into existence by the Master Emerald itself. During their last epic battle with Eggman, Sonic used it power up and it seized the opportunity to, well, get him pregnant. This, it turns out, is also what set off his heat, causing this whole mess. No one is really sure why the Master Emerald did this, but there is an awareness that Amber probably has some kind of Magical Destiny ahead of her.

Sparx the Tenrec: The result of a drunken one night stand. Coincidentally, she was conceived on the same night as Cinder, during a victory party hosted by the Restoration. Sonic does not remember much of this night as he may have partied a little bit too hard. He has vague flashes of an angry make-out session with Surge tho, the next clearest thing being he waking up in bed between Silver and Blaze. Surge was very in denial that the whole thing had happened and did not really take the news she'd had a kid with Sonic very well... Sparx is very close with Sonic and has an up and down relationship with her mum.

Cinder the Cat: Silver and Blaze are in a committed relationship, but fully accept Cinder as their kid. He doesn't really find it that weird that his mum and bio dad aren't together, nor finds Silver's presence in his life disagreeable. He gets to have an extra parent after all. It was admittedly a bit weird for the parents at first, but they made it work. Tho Sonic is still a little salty that he can't remember the details of what he thinks must have been a really hot threesome...

Trick the Wolf: Sonic just happen to run into Gadget and, tbh, both were kinda surprised that they ended up in bed together. Sonic had not been aware he was in heat during all this time and this encounter was the first to clue him in that something might have been up. Tho he wouldn't put the pieces together until much later. They were originally called "Trixie" but later changed it to "Trick" to sound more gender neutral after coming out as gender fluid.

Arthur Acorn: Sonic and Sally had a history, so when they happen to meet up and fell into to bed together it wasn't really all that out of the ordinary. Her parents very much do not approve of the fact Sally had a child out of wedlock, and that it's with Sonic of all people, AND that said child has multiple half-siblings to boot! Despite this, they can't help but love Arthur. It's very hard for people not too, he's just got so much rizz, even as a baby.

[spiralling-spires]

Guys something happened and im back on my she ra nonsense. Help all my recent tabs are tma fanfic i need to go deep in my bookmarks to pull out the she ra stuff and follow a ton of she ra posters bc its been like two years since i was substantially aware of she ra BUT THE HYPERFIX IS COMING BACK I CAN FEEL IT AAAAGH

Its 12:44 am and i’m going to write all my thoughts and theories and you are going to enjoy them

1. Beast island is actually sentient and the reason it makes that signal is because it’s achingly lonely and doesn’t want its new friends (anyone who comes to the island) to leave. Little does it know it’s forcing its depression upon everyone that visits

2. Etheria and Eternia are actually twin planets, the First Ones are humans, and Eternia is far-future Earth (idk, Earth got a neighbour and then we colonized it? Sure sounds like humans to me). This explains why the First Ones’ language is made up of English phonemes and includes English words, and why Adora looks human.

3. Horde Prime used to be an Eternian, a very long time ago. His current form is the result of hundreds of years of incredibly vain genetic engineering and experimenting. He still isn’t fully pleased with his appearance and tweaks his clones every generation in an attempt to find “purity”.

4. Hordak’s “defect” is a result of this tweaking. Imagine inbreeding, except it’s one guy who keeps turning random genes on and off and switching out base pairs to see if it’ll make him prettier. Turns out there were some nasty genetic surprises in Hordak’s version of the code. As with any other clone that had such genetic conditions, Prime tossed him out in the next major fleet movement without running any analyses first. Running an analysis would force him to confront the fact that he (gasp) made an error!

5. The “general” thing wasn’t actually complete bs. Prime threatening to take Catra’s body as his own, was. See, Prime really wants to be this one perfect thing. Why would he waste time being a cat when he could be perfect? He has a special line of “generals” whose sole purpose is to house his mind. They have two additional eyes, the ability to grow those weird chin/cheek spikes, and the capacity to be much taller (all hidden unless he gives them specific hormones in preparation for inhabiting them). All this to say: Hordak might just wake up with four eyes open one day and promptly freak himself (and everyone else) out.

6. Entrapta has been in the center of a lot of explosions (esepcially when she was a teenager and hadn’t figured out the right balance of “pursue knowledge” to “lab safety” yet) and has replaced a startling amount of her body with prosthetics covered in a synthetic skin.

7. Hordak’s body wasn’t repaired by Prime in season 5. Prime just injected him with a bunch of painkillers (not enough to not be in pain, but enough to function) and covered up the arm holes. About an hour after the finale, the painkillers wear off and Hordak all but collapses. Having a chronic muscle/joint condition + being electrocuted + being possessed hurts. Man, he really went through it, didn’t he?

8. Based on Wrong Hordak, it’s going to be… really hard for the clones to get used to being outside of the hivemind. They will form cults. They will make new pieces of technology that will mimic the hivemind. They’ll scrounge for the chips and try to implant them in each other. They will find and beg (or threaten) Entrapta and Hordak to put back the hivemind. Hopefully people will have enough compassion for them to help them get used to being individuals.

9. All Eternians have the capacity to activate the Sword of Protection and become She-Ra (or gender-correlated equivalent). Horde Prime is, initially, Eternian, based on the other headcanons here, so he hypothetically could. Any clone could. Hordak could.

Wow! I forgot about some of these headcanons! This was pretty neat. Hope you guys like em too. Also I haven’t watched canon in like a year so there might be some inaccuracies, but at some point I figured that holding onto the thoughts until I rewatched canon just wasn’t worth it. And lo and behold now you can see all my random thoughts too!

[hammerhead-jpg]

Idk if I'm ever gonna finish the refs for my redacted ocs, but here are their logos

I could make some doodles of their designs or smth idk....

I wrote some info about them under the cut if ya curious (that ended up being a lot longer than I expected so behold)

Taurus

I already made a ref sheet for Taurus so I already wrote down some info about him there so you can go see that if you wanna

I can only imagine since I established that he's friends or at least knows every single redacted de(a)mon and also is a part of the chorus that if he would be on the redacted channel he'd successfully force himself into practically every storyline.

Practically all redacted ocs that I made I more imagine as side characters than as "main" characters so they don't really have a listener, but I guess his listener would technically be freelancer.

I imagine he remembers the cacophony well, even though he wants to forget it.

Gin Asari

I'm very aware that Gin wouldn't really work as a character since, to be a sibling to a listener would mean to not have them have a distinct background, race or gender (or at least agab) since this is specifically an identical twin brother, because unless them and the listener are not blood related (and in this case they are) the characters background, race and gender would allude to the listeners background, race and gender which you're not supposed to do. But because I have already made up the listeners background race and gender as if they were an oc as most people do, I haven't really thought about this.

Anyways, this is Gin Asari! Lovely's twin brother! And if you haven't noticed they are the main character of the oc fic I wrote some time ago. I actually made 4 more chapters for that fic but didn't post it since I thought it wasn't good enough and also people hate fics written in first person for some reason.

I don't really remember why I made this oc either, I guess just because I wanted to explore the idea of a electro-energetic baddy, even though they don't really have their electric powers yet since they haven't experienced a traumatic enough experience and Lovely hasn't told them in fear that they would try to traumatize themselves on purpose to get them. I also wanted to explore Adam's backstory through them (btw I fucking struggled to make the timelines align to find out what age they are).

For those of you who haven't read the fic ("the fic" meaning also the chapters I didn't publish so I guess that's like all of you) here's a quick summary: Lovely's twin brother (who at this point isn't in contact with Lovely since Lovely ran away from their parents when they were 16) is chilling in med school with their roommate: Adam Jessup. That is, all until Adam disappears one day and is found dead in a car crash, except, Adam didn't really die and he just got turned willingly. Adam returns one year later by sneaking into Gin's room. There, Adam descides to feed on them and after realizing they're willing to let him feed on them, let's them live and starts a very unhealthy relationship where he returns to feed on them every week or so. That is until he gets addicted to their humanborn latent electro energetic blood and every week or so becomes every night. The induced anemia and stress from overworking themselves due to their parent's high expectations, Gin's mental state starts to decline. That is until they find out that Adam is a literal serial killer and he basically tries to murder them since they didn't want to continue their relationship. They run away to Dahlia, both from him and from their parents, until a couple of years later they meet Lovely, now a vampire, by chance, and they catch up and learn that Adam has been upgraded to a decapitated skeleton under a broken down rollercoaster.

I realize that I mostly wrote their backstory and not their current story, like I don't really know what happens after they catch up with Lovely. Do they descide to keep in touch with the Solaire clan or do they go back to their normal life? Does Lovely tell them about the whole electric energetic thing? Do they befriend the other vampires? I don't know! I haven't decided yet.

Methuselah

I'm trying to figure out what this fool's nickname would be besides just Meth.

I thought to myself "what was the first de(a)mon created like? What are they doing?" So I started brainstorming ideas until they eventually became an oc.

So Methuselah (named after the oldest known star, I wanted to be the first star given a name but all that popped up was the oldest star), an inchoate, the first created demon, the one who has lived for thousands of years, fought in the cacophony and created the chorus and serve as kind of a makeshift leader of it.

Some may say that Meth here is what you would call a mary sue but you know as they say when I create a character that's the world's best assassin, a science experiment possessed by a god of anger who has a corrupted form that slowly kills them when they use it, they get called a Mary Sue, but when Asagiri Kafka does it it's "I love Chuuya Nakahara!!"

If Taurus is jaded by his long ongoing life Methuselah is the most jaded of them all. Just basically barely cares about the things going around them. Even if they did care about keeping relationships everyone except some of the chorus members is scared of them due to their overwhelming power, both magical and political.

When the ruling council descided to include de(a)mons in it they were the first demon asked if they would want to join as a representative for inchoate demons their response was to spit in their face and say "was that the answer you were looking for?"

I imagine that they are currently dealing with the whole Hush situation, and that in the first time in thousands of years, they're scared of death. After the cacophony in which they almost died, saw many deaths including the death of their first and only friend, they thought that if another life threatening situation occurred they wouldn't be scared to die for the cause, but now that they're faced with a person that is not only stronger than them but could kill them in a second, they're scared of death after so many years of being untouchable.

Miles Deen

One time, my lovely mutual @cyc-chilla once said in a post about wether or not redacted characters get biches, that Frederick only seems to attract extremely shady and terribly shifty dumpster opossum men, and I thought to myself "he absolutely does"

So Miles Deen was born.

If you identify as a garbage dwelling raccoon trash goblin you obviously haven't met Miles

The icon of the two bandaids and the description of "the thrall" doesn't encapsulate him well enough, it should've been an icon of a garbage can and he should've been titled "the trash dweller" if I wanted to be accurate.

Basically, Miles is an informed unempowered guy who was a couple of years ago attacked by a shade, but instead of having all of his life force drained, he only got half of his life force drained and later found out via seer that he would only live to 27 (he's currently 25, 21 when he found out)

He's also homeless because he got kicked out of his parents house after he couldn't find a job due to his clinical depression, so as you can imagine his life wasn't looking too good.

But, he descided to keep living and use the fact that he's going to die young as a motivator to live without fear and also made a bucket list of things he wanted to do before he died.

One of those things was being fed on by a vamp, and that is how he finds himself on Solaire clan territory and is found by Fred. The rest is history.

Fred is convinced he is insane but he kinda likes that about him. Bright eyes does not like him at all.

He somehow always gets himself into trouble and then the clan is forced to protect him in all kinds of batshit situations.

If he was actually on the redacted channel, he'd probably never appear or would maybe be mentioned by name once, just because I descided to make a character for a deleted discontinued series.

Sadly, I think his story probably would end with him dying peacefully in his sleep, since he wouldn't want to get turned and him getting turned would be kinda a stupid thing writing wise since it's kinda stupid to build up the idea of a character dying only to have them live anyway (and his whole character is built on the idea that he's going to die young)

Ezra Solaire

One day, I thought to myself "Christian needs a gay awakening" and so he did.

Ezra is a cayote shifter and part of the Solaire clan, raised by William since birth.

He seems very sweet, and he is but he's also brutally honest.

He'd never let a vamp feed on him (William even set up that you are to be executed if you attempt to feed on him without his permission) but he does donate blood to the clan often. He has so many "I donated blood" stickers.

I imagine he's friends with Darlin', which is how he ended up meeting the Shaw pack

I keep thinking about what his talk with William would be like after the summit, cause it would be absolutely heartbreaking

Because I imagine Ezra was one of the people that wasn't told about the plan, so with Ezra who just wanted a normal life, now learning that the Solaire clan which they already didn't like being in since about 90% of the clan didn't like them, is/is going to become some sort of vigilante assassin squad and also feeling like their relationship with the Shaw pack is destroyed, the place where they actually felt like they had a normal life and a family, I can only imagine how upset they'd be.

But on the other hand, William is like a father to him and he couldn't imagine how it would be to leave him, and he'd also be leaving behind the few people he was close friends with in the clan (like Vincent) and he also wouldn't think it would be right to have William supporting him financially with a house and a job when he was leaving the clan, so he would have not only have his financial and social support cut, but also physical since, I forgot to mention but, he has multiple sclerosis and is disabled, so he sometimes needs a caregiver to help him do everyday tasks (which would usually be by William, Vincent or an assistant William hired). So yeah, I can only imagine how he must feel.

Atlas Madden

Watch out John I'm stealing your name or smth

To be completely transparent, I did create Atlas just to ship him with Scorpius. I know I'm cringe but I'm free

Atlas is a freelancer who works as a healer, but also has an interest in water magic and shifter magic. How is a non-shifter good at shifter magic? He isn't! He likes morphing into a disturbing half wolf half human creature and scaring people in it!

So umm I may have brainstormed Scorpiuses backstory on a whim by accident...whoops...hate when that happens

So going forward any Scorpius lore I drop is my headcannons and not actual lore

I swear this is important to Atlas

Okay so: I imagine that before being captured by close knit Scorpius worked in this kind of strip club where the whole shtick was that incubi were the strippers. The strippers weren't also escorts but if they chose you you could potentially go home with them.

That's how Scorpius and Atlas met.

Atlases friends brought him to this strip club mostly as a joke and Atlas was kinda uncomfortable the whole time.

Until he caught Scorpiuses eye, who then decided to enact his flirt persona and bring him home.

After that, Atlas eventually became his charge and they would meet every so often.

They both agreed for no strings attached, Scorpius didn't really like hookup culture but needed to get energy one way or another, but Atlas wanted him to know that he respected him as a person and wanted them to be at least friends.

One day, Atlas pushed the friendliness a little too far and Scorpius told him that he doesn't need to try to appeal to him so he could feel like a good person. Atlas got offended by this because he really just wanted to be nice, not because he wanted to pat himself on the back.

An argument ensued and Scorpius left without getting an energy feeding. He went on, trying to find somebody else to feed on, and that is when he gets tricked and captured by close knit. With no way to communicate to Atlas, Atlas believes Scorpius left him for good.

I have a lot more planned out for them but that takes place after Scorpius leaves the basement, which as you can see he hasn't yet, so I'm obviously waiting til that happens so I'm not writing lore for something that hasn't happened yet.

So um yeah

[thetoadcrow]

responses for when kids ask what your gender is:

ok so I've been babysitting kids since I was 10 and growing up afab with really short hair and not really dressing feminin and later discovering my genderfluifity when I was 14, kids would ask me "are you a boy or a girl?" basically instantly after laying their eyes on me, before I came out I would always just respond "I'm a girl" but now I prefer to avoid answering the question if possible and if the kids parents aren't aware/accepting of my queerness then truthly answering "I'm genderfluid" isn't always a possibility, so I decided the best way to deal with the question is to mess with them.

My twin ate my gender in the womb (even better if you don't have a twin)

My parents couldn't afford a gender for me

shit bro I don't know, go ask your mom she loves seeing me naked (intended for asshole kids who are over the age of 11)

I traded my gender away to some fairies in exchange for a nintendo switch

I sat too close to the tv when I was younger and it made my gender disappear

what's that?

ok don't tell anyone but I'm an alien and on my planet people aren't boys or girls and when I landed on earth I didn't know about gender so I kinda messed up my human costume while designing it

look down your shirt/dress/whatever and scream "damn it I forgot my gender at home"

do I really need to be a boy or a girl to be this good looking? (strike an exagerated pose)

Ya know, I've been wondering that myself too, am I a boy or a girl? how about you pick for me?

does it matter if I'm a boy or a girl while we talk about/play *inserts kids favorite subject*? (if the subject is something like knights and princesses or whose the red power ranger and whose the pink, let the kid choose which role you'll be playing)

Guess.

*under your breath* the alien space captain didn't tell me humans have gender *act panicked*

well... I'm scretely mothman.

I'm a robot A.I. and my programmers forgot to give me a gender before putting me out in the public

what I am is hungry, do you want food too? (if kid answers yes proceed to acquire food, if no change the subject quickly)

*pretend falling asleep instantly*

I got grounded and I'm not allowed to be a boy or a girl anymore

I'm Batman

I mixed a pink slushie and a blue slushie together and now I'm both

I lost my gender in the trojan war

[dearest-siblingtwst]

°•Admiring or In Love•°

• Deuce Spade x Reader •

Note: Reader is Gender-neutral and might OOC, Reader was a bit shy / Blunt, bad grammar Chapter 1 & 2 Spoiler!

⊱──────────── • °. °

Name!Rosehearts, you are Riddle's twin who has the opposite character of Riddle, but you also avoid breaking the rules so you don't get Collar cage by your own twins.

°•°.⊱──────────── • °. °

You still remember where you were dragged into a problem by your underclassman.

the moment when you were ordered by the Headmaster to take care of your underclassman and the magic-less student with their familiar.

You still remember where you first looked into the eyes of your underclassman who was higher than you, his gaze that was filled with awe and warm as he stared at you.

the same gaze after he saw you take responsibility for the Unbirthday party Incident just because of Marron tart.

you still remember where he and Ace wanted to fight your twin to take over the dormleader position.

you remember how Deuce tried to protect you when your Twins, Riddle Rosehearts, Overblot.

You still remember Deuce's words when he tried to comfort you who was very worried about Riddle who fainted after the Overblot.

and here you are now, sitting at the unbirthday Party heartslabyul which was held after your twin began to fully recover from his Overblot.

"So what happened to that tart Dorm leader?" Ace asked Riddle the tart that Ace ordered from last week.

"I made it for you, as I promised I would Here: one strawberry tart, crafted by yours truly." Riddle shows the strawberry tart he made, you look at him happily.

"Psst, [Name]." your friend calls you which makes your attention move to them. "Need something?" You raise your eyebrow knowing damn that if your Dormmates calls you there must be some latest gossip.

"Are you not aware of how that underclassman behavior when you are around him?" your Friend ask you with a mocking smile while pointing their finger at Deuce, it makes you turn your head after hearing the sound of shouting "SALTY from your twins group.

seem like that the Tart that Riddle made only have the beautiful decoration but not with the taste, You just sighed at the sight and your Friend laughed but were little annoyed because the question they ask had not been answered.

You were surprised by Deuce who turned his gaze toward you, but look like he realized he just made eye contact with you and looked the other way with a tint blush.

it makes you a little confused but ignore it, But you notice that some sweets on your table are missing.

"Magical shift tournament? yes I've been practicing so no need to worry!" you said answering your another classmate's question.

"I'm just making sure you're ready to compete in the tournament!" your classmate from Diasomnia puffed his chest with a pride making sure everyone knows you're really cool especially when playing in tournaments.

"But be careful. I hear that there have been incidents of many students getting hurt for no reason, especially those who get hurt are Mostly great players in every dorm." one of your classmates who is from Scarabia warns you with concern and you nod in response.

You also heard that from other students gossip, you also have to be more careful, especially your childhood friend, Trey. who broke his ankle by falling down the stairs.

but for a moment, deep down you feel something heavy like you are worrying about something.

You always think about what Deuce is doing now. Is he not a victim of this incident? Is he Practicing well? Is he thinking about you? your mind is filled with your worries about Deuce making you just quiet and making your two classmates look at you full concern.

"[Name], are you okay?" the Scarabia student asked you with worry and fear that something was making you un-energetic than usual.

"uh-? oh i'm fine don't worry, it's just that.. I'm worried about my underclassmen" You waved your hand to sign nothing happened to you.

"Deuce Spade ?" your Diasomnia friend guesses while holding his chin like a detective.

"yes it's him and- wait, how did you know?" You stopped and widened your eyes at your friend in surprise,

"Diasomnia thing fufu, I didn't think you would like your own underclassmen who are even higher than you."

"And more importantly he admires you, wait- the word admiration doesn't really fit, in love! yeah!" exclaimed your Diasomnia friend making your cheeks red and looking at your Scarabia friend to defend you.

Unfortunately your Scarabia friend just stares with a smile as if he's holding back his laughter making you pout.

"Sorry sorry- i'm just messing around, hey don't be angry at me!" Your Diasomnia friend laughs and hugs you so dramatically and makes you just roll your eyes but make you slightly smile.

The Diasomnia and Scarabia Student stopped laughing when they saw your small Grin and just look at each other and smile warmly.

"aww our dear Rosehearts has grown up!" Your Scarabia friend hugs you like a mother hugs her child, making you flustered.

"OI !!"

because the event this afternoon made you just eat your dinner in silence.

you looked at Deuce and saw him chatting with Ace made you stare at him for too long, Deuce, who feels he is being watched, turns to you which surprises you and goes back to seeing your own dinner.

Riddle who saw only raised his eyebrows as if there was something suspicious, while Deuce was just silent and didn't expect that the person staring at him was someone he admired, wait- he doesn't even know if he's just admiring you or more than that.

he realized and just after his shoulder was hit by Ace, Ace mocked him and said that Deuce was looking at [Name] lovingly

making Deuce blush.

..

...

you came into your room after dinner and Immediately threw yourself on the bed, You Think that today is a tiring day.

but you are still thinking, is it true what people say that Deuce is in love with you?

you buried your head in your pillow feeling your head is very dizzy thinking about unimportant things.

maybe Deuce just admires you! Yes, that must be the reason that makes Deuce shy when you're around him!

But still, your heart feels a little cracked if he only admires you as if you want the rumors is actually become reality it feels selfish but you still expect that, but why?

You are really confused with your own feelings, do you actually consider him your dearest underclassmen or not?

Why did you just realize this feeling is the reason that makes you feel something strange?

feeling your brain getting dizzy with so many thoughts stuck in your head, you close your eyes hoping all the bad thoughts are gone.

You start to wake up early morning,

you realize that you are wearing a blanket even though last night you didn't wear anything to keep you warm, could it be Riddle? Your dearest twins?

You don't really care about it because you still feel your head is very dizzy and even your forehead feels hot.

Wow, it turns out that a lot of stress will make you sick. You are not sure if you can survive if you go to class without breakfast?

Well let's try:D

........ ........ ........🍭

it was a bad decision you chose and now you regret it.

Now you are lying in the infirmary with a broken leg. What? Too fast?

repeat the scene.

—

you walk out of class with your other friends, all the way you just hold your stomach in pain from hunger.

your pomefiore friend who saw you miserable offered to help find medicine for a stomach ache. Of course you, who felt suffering, nodded without hesitation because you couldn't stand it anymore.

when you want to go down the stairs you feel your legs move on their own as if someone is moving your body.

You haven't fully thought what going on before your friend screamed your name and your vision started to darken.

—

you are sure that your Diasomnia friend will lecture you and your Scarabia friend will cry hysterically at your condition.

not to mention what Riddle would do when he found out his dearest twin was doing something reckless.

You try to sit up but it only makes the pain in your legs even more pronounced, making you groan painly.

you hear the sound of the door opening making you turn your head and see the figure of Deuce entering the infirmary room carrying a plastic bag.

"[Name]-senpai, you awake!" Deuce beamed at you and walked over to you, he put the plastic he was holding on the table near you and sat beside you.

"Deuce, what brought you here?"

"Of course to visit you! , Dorm leader was very worried when he received news that you had fallen down the stairs and were unconscious from your friends.."

"And also.."

"Also…?"

"We have found the culprit behind all these incidents, it was Ruggie Bucchi." Deuce's answer left you speechless in disbelief that Ruggie was the culprit,

you sighed heavily and wanted to go back to rest but you felt your stomach hurt again because you hadn't eaten yet made you sneer while holding your stomach and Deuce who was surprised and worried stood up to check on you.

"What happened!?" deuce asked while looking at you with panic on his face.

"I forgot that I haven't eaten since morning-" your answer makes Deuce immediately take something out of the plastic which you assume is a piece of cake that Trey made.

"luckily Trey-Senpai prepared a cake which didn't contain fruits" Deuce cuts the cake with a plastic fork and reflexively feeds you and you eat the bite too.

That unexpected right made you and Deuce freeze before you both heard a door slam,

you see your Scarabia friend who looks very worried and panicked with your Diasomnia friend, you also see Trey, Riddle and also Ace behind them.

"DEAREST, I JUST GOT A MESSAGE FROM YOUR CLASSMATE THAT YOU FALL FROM STAIRS AND—" they all fell silent seeing the position of Deuce who was still feeding you.

Deuce and you burning up with embarrassment while Trey and your Diasomnia friends stare at the both of you with an amused smile.

"looks like they need some time alone" your Diasomnia friend chuckled and pulled your Scarabia friend who was still in shock and was followed by Ace, and Trey

Riddle glanced at you briefly and then followed the others.

"I'm sorry about that- um.." you look at Deuce with worried fear he feels uncomfortable but what you get is Deuce looking at you with a sheepish smile.

"Ah no, I should be the one who apologizes.. I'm feeding you without your- permission?" you stare at him but start to smile a little, feeling cute seeing him like that.

"I mean, I do not mind really, I even loves you feeding me! E- " You stare at Deuce embarrassed while Deuce can't say anything before you both laugh together.

"[Name] really take my word seriously" said your Diasomnia friend looking at Riddle who was pressing his temple while Ace and Trey just sweat drops seeing your Scarabia friend crying ugly.